‘How is Griff?’ Mario asked Pye, as the DI handed him a mug of coffee.
‘He’s a mess; he’s angry, he’s feeling guilty and he’s resentful, all at the same time. He’s angry that Alice let him down, yet he blames himself for putting her in a position where she felt she had to warn her uncle; all that aside, I get the impression he’s thinking that she’s being too harshly treated.’
‘And how do you feel about that?’
Sammy frowned at me. ‘Feel about Alice? I don’t want her back here under any circumstances, not even out front in a uniform. I’m sorry if that seems hard, but. .’
‘No,’ I said quickly. ‘That was the right answer. . not that my question was a trap. How do you feel about Montell?’
‘I’m sorry for him. I talk to my wife, don’t you?’ Words spoken can’t be recalled, as many a TV pundit has found out after thinking that his mike wasn’t live. ‘Ouch,’ he hissed.
‘That’s okay, Sam. I did,’ I acknowledged, ‘in the certain knowledge that what I said wouldn’t be all over the supermarket checkout queue next morning.’ I turned to Mario. ‘Where is Alice?’
He checked his watch. ‘She should be downstairs. She was told to report here at ten o’clock sharp.’ He drained his mug, laid it on the desk and smoothed down the lapels of his immaculate jacket. ‘Let’s go.’
I followed him out and down to the foyer. ‘Is DC Cowan here yet?’ he asked the desk sergeant.
‘Yes, sir,’ she replied. ‘She’s waiting in interview room two, as DI Pye requested.’ I sensed a vibe coming off her. Inevitably, the suspension must have become public knowledge in the office, and the absence of detail would have led to speculation. Sides would be taken, until the full story was known, and probably afterwards. I guessed that the sergeant was leaning towards another female officer.
If Mario picked it up too, he didn’t react, not even when she added, ‘She has a Fed rep with her.’
He led the way out of reception and through to the interview rooms. He knew the place better than I did, so I tagged along like his nee’bur, as they say sometimes in Strathclyde.
Alice was standing when we walked into the room, in earnest conversation with her Police Federation representative. God, but she had changed since the last time we’d met. She’d been a fairly conservative dresser in those days, and even in CID she’d managed to make her civilian clothes look like a uniform. Her hair had been dark and simply styled, hanging down to her shoulders. She’d also been fairly well upholstered, not fat, I wouldn’t put it that way, but solidly built, if that’s not politically incorrect. . although it shouldn’t be, since I’d say the same about a guy.
The Alice who turned to look at me was clad in what I’m told are called distressed denim jeans and a white, knitted, sleeveless top that emphasised her tanned skin, and the slimness of her arms and shoulders. Her hair was bleached blond, cut short, probably done at home from the look of it, and gathered into spiky clumps, that I guessed were held in place by gel.
The rep stuck his chin out aggressively as he stepped up alongside her. I’d seen his sort before; confrontational by instinct. He was well into his forties, and his face was familiar to me. Mario put a name to it. ‘Sergeant Gahagan,’ he said. ‘I’m surprised to see you here.’
That helped me place him; a capable officer frustrated because his career had stalled at sergeant, and who became active in the Federation as a way of gaining a little more influence, a little more authority. There are a few like him in every professional body.
The Scottish Police Federation isn’t a union as such; indeed by definition it isn’t. It was created by statute in 1919 by the same act that banned the police from membership of trade unions, to give them an acceptable. . to the establishment of the day. . means of voicing concerns about their welfare. It looks after all ranks below super-intendent and it’s run by serving officers, elected to full-time posts. There’s a branch structure as well and within that each force chooses a full-time local representative. Gahagan is Edinburgh’s; why they picked him, given the bag of chips on his shoulder, heaven only knows.
‘Don’t know why you should be,’ he snapped. He thought his position entitled him to leave out the ‘sir’. ‘Detective Constable Cowan is entitled to Federation support, and I’m entitled to sit in on this interview, which I fully intend to do, otherwise it won’t take place.’
Inwardly, I moaned. The idiot was waving a red flag in the face of the bull that is Mario McGuire. He might have thought he was armed with the sword of justice, but it was going to be as much use to him as a strand of wet linguine, cooked just past al dente. I decided to save him.
‘That would be the case,’ I told him, ‘if this was purely a disciplinary matter. But it isn’t. You know who I am, Sergeant?’
‘Yes, Mr Martin,’ he replied.
‘And that I’m now a senior officer in an outside agency?’
‘Yes.’
‘Yes what. . Sergeant?’ I murmured.
His body language altered, subtly; his posture became just a little defensive. ‘Yes, sir,’ he grunted. He resembled a man crossing a lively stream on stepping stones, not sure if he was going to reach the next one or take a dip.
‘The fact that I’m here, and that I’ve been asked by the chief constable to be here, should indicate to you that this isn’t an ordinary disciplinary hearing. It’s part of a wider inquiry into a crime that may have been committed and DC Cowan is a potential witness. I can understand why she asked you to be here. .’ I paused as a possibility ran itself past me. ‘You did ask Sergeant Gahagan to attend, Alice?’
‘Actually, sir,’ she replied, ‘I didn’t; he volunteered. I think it was Griff who called him.’
I’ll swear I heard a hungry growl from McGuire, beside me. ‘Do you want him to remain?’ I went on. ‘Even though he’s got no locus here, I’d be prepared to allow it, provided that he says nothing without invitation, and agrees not to reveal anything he may hear.’
‘No, sir,’ she declared firmly. ‘Since I’m going to be talking about my uncle, I’d rather he wasn’t here. That’s what I was saying to him when you came in. Besides. .’ She peered into the bag that was slung over her shoulder, then withdrew a white envelope and handed it to Mario. I looked in her eyes; they were clear and calm.
‘What’s this?’ he asked as he took it. I glanced at it and noticed that the letter ‘R’ was printed on it.
‘It’s my resignation. I reckon I should beat the system to the punch, if you’ll accept it, that is. I’ve got some pension accrued, and I’d like to keep it.’
‘I understand,’ he murmured. ‘I’m sorry, Alice. I’ll take this, but whether it’s accepted or not. . that’ll be the chief constable’s decision.’
‘Hold on a minute,’ Gahagan protested. ‘There’s no need for that, Constable Cowan.’
She turned on him. ‘Of course there is,’ she snapped. ‘I know it and you know it, or you would if you were halfway to being a decent cop. Now please go away.’
Gahagan picked up his briefcase from the table. ‘I won’t forget this,’ he muttered, glaring at McGuire.
‘Neither will I,’ the big guy promised. ‘You won’t always be a full-time Fed rep, Sergeant, so be very careful who you try to threaten from now on.’
Silence followed him to the door, but it didn’t end with his departure. Cowan stood, backlit by the sun streaming through the small window behind her, with her eyes on me at first, then switching to Mario, then back to me. She wasn’t quite sure who was taking the lead, and at that moment, neither were we.
McGuire ended the impasse by walking round behind her and adjusting the venetian blind to give us complete privacy. ‘Sit down, please,’ he said, drawing a chair out from the table and offering it to her.
She made herself comfortable, and he and I settled down opposite her. There was a dual deck recorder on Mario’s right, with two blank CDs still in their boxes. He unwrapped each one and loaded the machine. ‘Ready?’