‘ It turned out there was nothing anyone could do. The house was in his name so it was legally his. The police told Lotty that it was a civil matter so they couldn’t become involved. All they could suggest was that she contact a battered women’s support group. Shortly afterwards Mission sold the house and rode off into the sunset leaving Lotty penniless.’
‘ I don’t know what to say,’ said Steven. ‘There are some people in this world who take your breath clean away.’
‘ I’m not a violent man Dr Dunbar but I would cheerfully have throttled that bastard with my bare hands and not have lost a wink of sleep over it. Lotty deserved better after what she’d been through.’
Steven nodded, feeling a little embarrassed at being an outsider listening to family confidences, but it was obvious that Grant was a decent man who cared very much for his daughter. ‘I’m very sorry,’ he said.
‘ It’s me who should be sorry,’ said Grant. ‘This is really none of your concern. Please excuse the ramblings of an old man.’
‘ I’m so sorry I had to upset your daughter by raking up the past,’ said Steven.
‘ You were only doing your job I’m sure,’ said Grant graciously. ‘I hope she was able to help you.’
‘ She was,’ said Steven, getting up to leave. ‘Please thank her for me. I hope I won’t have to bother her again.’
A cold wind had sprung up and was gusting in from the North Sea as Steven made his way back to the car park near the beach. It whipped the tops off the waves, sending clouds of spindrift up into the air. Nearer the shore a grey, threatening swell rose and fell around the barnacled support columns of the pier. The clouds were darkening and it looked like rain could not be far away. Steven pulled up his collar and made for the cafe he’d visited earlier.
‘ Not so nice now,’ said the cafe owner.
Steven agreed and asked for black coffee.
‘ Find the place you were looking for?’
‘ Yes, thanks.’
When nothing more was forthcoming, the owner busied himself behind the counter although Steven suspected that he might have been his only customer of the day.
He sat down by the window and looked out at the grey scene while behind him the owner noisily cleaned the components of the Italian coffee machine. He felt it had been worthwhile coming. It seemed almost certain that the utilities disk that Charlotte Little unwittingly had passed on to her husband had been the source of the pornographic material found on his computer. The fact that it had actually cured the problem on his machine meant that he had not been alerted to anything being amiss at the time.
The plan had been cleverly conceived but he couldn’t come up with a reason for Paul Verdi wanting to embarrass his secretary’s husband. Apart from that, it hadn’t been Verdi who had provided the sophisticated software, necessary for such a scam; it had been his unnamed friend, the ‘computer expert’. Could he or she also have been his contact within the forensic lab? Once again, his thinking hit the wall. As far as he knew, no one in Ronald Lee’s lab either knew or had any contact with David or Charlotte Little.
Steven walked back to his car and turned his mobile phone back on — he’d switched it off while talking to Charlotte Little. There were two messages on the Voicemail service. One was from Susan Givens saying that she had the new DNA fingerprint; he could pick it up at his convenience or she could mail it to him electronically. He should let her know. The other was from Peter McClintock asking that he call him back as soon as possible. Steven called.
‘ You’re not going to like this,’ said McClintock. ‘Santini got cold feet over the raid tomorrow. He decided to bring in Tracy Manson for questioning today instead.’
‘ But that will just alert Verdi to the fact that we know something about the source of the porn film!’ protested Steven.
‘ You know that: I know that, but apparently the great Santini couldn’t work it out,’ said McClintock.
‘ Shit for brains,’ murmured Steven. ‘Did you get anything from her?’
‘ You were right. It was her who featured in the stuff on Little’s computer. She didn’t deny it — seemed quite proud of it in fact, like she was some kind of film star. I guess everybody wants to be in show business these days. But we couldn’t get her to finger Verdi. She maintains that she had no idea who was behind the video business. She just did what she was told.’
‘ Believe her?’ asked Steven.
‘ She’s a smack-head. You can’t believe anything they say.’
Steven’s blood ran cold and he didn’t speak for a few moments as a nightmare was born inside his head. ‘A smack-head?’ he repeated slowly. ‘Tracy Manson’s a heroin addict?
‘ Oh Christ, I never thought,’ said McClintock, suddenly understanding Steven’s concern. ‘Look, I know what I just said but she did happen to tell me that she was registered and on a methadone programme so she’s not injecting and sharing needles.’
‘ Doesn’t mean to say she didn’t in the past,’ said Steven.
‘ No,’ agreed McClintock. ‘It doesn’t.’ There was an awkward pause before he said, ‘Better get yourself a blood test.’ Then he asked, ‘Where are you at the moment?’
‘ Norfolk.’ Steven felt as if he was now on autopilot but he went through the motions of telling McClintock what he’d learned. ‘You don’t suppose that utilities disk might still exist do you?’ he asked.
‘ Seems unlikely after all this time but I could ask around at Little’s old lab at the hospital,’ said McClintock.
‘ There’s one other thing,’ said Steven. ‘Could you run a DNA fingerprint check for me? I need to compare it with the ones taken from the males in Julie Summers’ village at the time of her murder. I’ll get it to you as quick as I can.’
‘ No can do,’ said McClintock, stopping Steven in his tracks.
‘ You can’t?’
‘ They don’t exist any more,’ said McClintock. It’s Force policy to destroy all DNA samples from innocent people after a case is closed. It’s part of the deal, a social contract if you like.’
‘ Shit, I should have thought of that,’ said Steven feeling annoyed with himself. ‘Maybe you could run it through the criminal database anyway?’ he asked. ‘Just in case.’
‘ Sure.’
Steven called Susan Givens and asked her to send the DNA fingerprint she’d come up with to Peter McClintock as an e-mail attachment. He gave her McClintock’s e-mail address.
‘ Everything all right?’ Susan asked.
Steven was tempted just to say ‘fine’ but he admitted, ‘I screwed up. The police destroy all DNA fingerprints taken in mass surveys as soon as the case is closed. Sorry.’
‘ Well, it was a good idea while it lasted,’ said Susan. ‘Are you sure you still want me to send the file?’
‘ They’ll run it against the known criminal DNA database anyway,’ said Steven.
‘ You sound a bit down,’ said Susan.
‘ Just fed up swimming against the tide,’ said Steven.
‘ Know the feeling,’ said Susan. ‘You’ll get a break soon.’
Steven took his time driving back to Edinburgh. He was angry with himself for having overlooked the DNA problem and he was annoyed with Santini for screwing up the chances of a more successful raid on the saunas but the thing that was uppermost in his mind was the revelation that Tracy Manson was a heroin addict. Needle sharing by drug addicts was a classic way of spreading AIDS.
If Tracy Manson had shared needles in the past, she might well be HIV positive and if she was… he had had unprotected sex with her. Ironically he might already be under the same death threat as David Little.
He rubbed his forehead nervously. He would have a blood test done as soon as he could arrange it but even if it turned out to be negative he knew he would have to go on having tests for many months before he could be sure that he was in the clear. There would be no quick answer. In the circumstances it was impossible for him not to think of Little and his skeletal appearance, and then his thoughts turned to Paul Verdi. ‘Bastard!’ he murmured, ‘I owe you, mister!’