Mackenzie’s sigh seemed to fill the car. The ACC looked at his wife, via the rear-view mirror and rolled his eyes.
‘If you insist. I’m not happy having Detective Sergeant Neville under my command.’
‘Actually she isn’t,’ McGuire pointed out, ‘not directly. She reports to Jack McGurk, who’s acting DI while Becky Stallings is on maternity leave; you’ve just acknowledged that yourself. That makes you her two-up boss. That aside, what’s your problem with her?’
‘I’m not sure she’s competent. She’s been away from the force for several years. During that time things have moved on, yet she’s come straight back in as a detective sergeant and here she is on the ground in what might be a very important investigation.’
‘You mean “high-profile investigation”, don’t you?’
‘Well, yes,’ Mackenzie concede, ‘I suppose so. But that doesn’t matter. In my view she should have had a probationary period in uniform and retraining before she was let anywhere near a CID office. To be honest, I don’t understand why Mary Chambers didn’t insist on it when she was interviewed.’
‘Chief Superintendent Chambers wasn’t there when Neville was interviewed,’ the ACC said quietly. In the mirror, he saw his wife wince. ‘She was on holiday. I did the board myself and I took the provisional decision to put her straight into CID. . provisional, because in the circumstances, I felt it should be ratified by the chief constable, and it was. So, David, you’re questioning my judgement and Maggie Steele’s. Is that it?’
The car fell silent, as if Mackenzie was contemplating the ground beneath his feet and the speed at which it was rising up to meet him. ‘I’m only expressing my concern,’ he replied, ‘and voicing an opinion. I meant no disrespect.’
‘Fair enough, and I’ll accept that because I know your concerns aren’t based on Karen’s ability at all. Your objection to her is transparent, man. She’s Andy Martin’s ex-wife; that’s your problem. You don’t like Andy. That’s an open secret. You don’t like him and you’re concerned that she’ll have his ear, and be marking his card about you.’
‘No, sir,’ Mackenzie protested.
‘Oh but “yes, sir”. And you’re wrong. Karen and Andy have a civilised relationship, but they spend about five minutes a week in each other’s company, when he collects the kids and drops them off. In those five minutes, there is no way that they’ll share any sensitive policing issues. They’re both far too responsible and too professional for idle gossip.’
McGuire paused, then decided that frankness was necessary. ‘The sad truth is, David,’ he said, ‘that you’re flattering yourself. You mean nothing to Andy Martin, nothing at all. In the unlikely event that you ever apply for a secondment to his agency, you’ll be judged on your record, your performance at interview, and that’s all. . just as Karen was, incidentally. Are we clear on all that?’
‘Yes, sir.’ The superintendent’s hostility was evident, even in those two words.
‘Good. Now let’s get back to matters in hand, for my Paula is mightily pissed off to be sitting in a layby when we should be at her sister’s for lunch. You will call Pye and Neville, please, and tell them that if the blood in that kitchen did belong to Cramond Island woman, the subsequent investigation will be run out of Leith, with Sammy as SIO. Not you, him; that’s a direct order from me. He will report to you, yes, and through you to Mary and me, but it’s his show and all future public statements, press briefings et cetera, will be down to him.’
‘If you insist, sir.’ To Paula, it was as if the temperature in the car was growing icier by the second.
‘I do, Detective Superintendent, I do. And one other thing, I want you to call Arthur Dorward in Forensic Services and ask him, as a favour to me, to put the DNA analysis of the blood from Caledonian Crescent right to the top of his priority list. I’d like a yes or no on whether it matches that body within twenty-four hours. I trust Karen’s instincts, though. I’m damn sure it’s her.’
‘I prefer evidence to instinct.’ As Mackenzie spoke, Paula saw, in the mirror, her husband’s eyes flare. She mouthed the word ‘No!’ to ward off any explosion. ‘But,’ the superintendent continued, ‘I’ll call Dorward right away and pass on your instruction.’
McGuire exhaled. ‘Fuck me! My request, David, my request. You don’t instruct Arthur, you humour him. He’s a prickly sod, and when he was one of us, a police officer rather than a central service person, he was often on the wrong side of insubordinate. He’s got away with it, though, for twenty years because he’s bloody brilliant at his job. This too: the chief constable has a high regard for him. When Stevie Steele, her husband, was killed on duty, Arthur’s work led to us catching the guy who did it.’
‘I didn’t know that.’
‘Well, you do now, so ask him gently for a hurry up on the blood from. .’ He paused. ‘What’s the woman’s name? The missing occupant? We do know for sure she’s missing, yes? It wouldn’t do if she turned out to be up the shops, liked dead flowers and had an accident with a juice carton.’
‘She’s missing all right. The downstairs neighbour said she hadn’t seen her for at least three weeks, and Neville’s view is that she doesn’t miss anything.’
The ACC laughed. ‘She sounds like my Granny McGuire. She knew everything that happened in the whole damn street. What’s her name, the vanished householder?’
‘Spreckley, Isobella Spreckley.’
‘Is there a husband to go to the top of our suspect list?’
‘No. She’s Miss Spreckley, according to the NHS, and the woman downstairs.’
‘Let’s hope she’s not the late Miss Spreckley, but I fear she is. Let me know the outcome of this, David. Also. . for fuck’s sake, man, lighten up on your subordinates. And lay off Karen. If you put the chief and me in a position where we had to transfer one of you out of the city, don’t assume it would be her. So long.’
He hit a button on the steering wheel to kill the call.
‘Jesus Christ!’ Paula exclaimed. ‘What’s that man’s problem? What’s with the attitude?’
‘I wish I could be sure,’ Mario replied. ‘He may just be insecure, coming back into CID after having a breakdown last time he was there. Neil McIlhenney thinks he’s jealous of me. I suspect he’s jealous of every officer senior to him, and most of his subordinates as well. The bloke thought he was a whizz-kid in Strathclyde, and that us lot through in Edinburgh were just hicks beside him. He’s found out that neither of those things are true and he may be having a hard time accepting it.’
‘So why’s he in that job?’
‘Because he is a good detective: when I put him there I didn’t appreciate what a bloody awful man-manager he is, that’s the trouble. But it’s only been a few weeks; there’s hope for him yet if Mary Chambers and I point him in the right direction.’
‘Let’s hope so, but. .’ She was interrupted by a rising wail from the baby chair. ‘Damn it! I’d planned it so wee Eamon’s next feed wouldn’t be due until we got to our Viola’s; thanks to Mr bloody Mackenzie he’s needing it now. Mario, do you. .’
‘Of course not,’ he laughed. ‘Eamon comes first. Plug him into the mains and I’ll wait till you’re done. Your Viola knows the score; she’ll understand.’
He leaned back in the driver’s seat, smiling as he watched her unbutton her shirt then flip up her bra, to grant the baby access to the milk supply, and knowing that he had never been happier in his life.
His mind had been in neutral, but without warning it slipped back into gear. ‘Spreckley,’ he murmured. ‘That’s a name I’ve heard before.’
He switched off the car’s electrics to kill the Bluetooth, and dug his mobile from his pocket. The number of every CID officer from detective sergeant upwards was registered in his contacts. He scrolled through them until he found Neville, K, and called her.
He heard street noise as she answered. ‘Karen,’ he began, ‘Mario McGuire here. Are you still at Caledonian Crescent?’
‘Yes, sir. I’m just on my way to re-interview the downstairs neighbour. Am I in the shit?’