‘With cheese and petit fours to follow.’
‘Going to let me peruse the menu?’
‘I don’t think you can afford the prices, DI Clarke.’
‘My credit’s no good?’
Fox sighed. ‘John was trying his damnedest to tie Cafferty to Bloom’s disappearance, even if it meant feeding lies and half-truths to a friendly journalist or two. He was hoping to flush Cafferty out, I think. It didn’t work, but one of the journalists ended up in hospital.’
‘Cafferty’s doing?’
‘A street mugging. But reading between the lines, yes, Cafferty’s doing. The reporter made a complaint about John. John denied everything.’
Clarke digested this. ‘Cops and journalists, eh?’ Her eyes were fixed on Fox’s. ‘It can lead to all manner of complications.’
The silence lay between them until Fox broke it. ‘You know, don’t you?’
‘That it was you leaking to Laura Smith? Of course I know.’
‘She told you?’
Clarke shook her head. ‘Laura always protects her sources — we both know that. But you’re forgetting that it was me who introduced you to her. Who the hell else was it going to be?’
Colour had risen to Fox’s cheeks. ‘I was so sorry ACU went after you.’
‘Not sorry enough to own up.’
‘No.’
Clarke shrugged. ‘Steele and Edwards saw what they wanted to see. They knew I had a relationship with Laura. You were canny enough to keep yours well camouflaged. Then there was my history with John.’
‘They were trying to get to him through you?’
She shook her head again. ‘They want me because they’ve never managed to hook him.’
There was a further silence until Fox cleared his throat. ‘We still pals, Shiv?’
‘Unless you’re bumping me for Tess Leighton — then again, maybe you see her as more than just a pal.’
‘Time will tell. And meanwhile, if you need my help holding anyone’s feet to the fire...’
‘Flames are getting closer to Steele and Edwards,’ Clarke stated, nodding slowly.
‘Their kind usually has an extinguisher to hand.’
‘They might find they’ve all been emptied.’
‘By you?’
‘By John and me,’ she corrected him. ‘I just hope we get to them before they get to me.’ She fixed him with a stare. ‘Remember to keep all this to yourself — just for a change.’
She was watching the colour rise to Malcolm Fox’s cheeks once more when Graham Sutherland put his head round the door.
‘Our presence is requested at St Leonard’s,’ he said.
‘Mollison?’ Clarke guessed.
‘Mollison,’ Sutherland confirmed.
44
DCS Mark Mollison was seated behind the world’s tidiest desk in his office at St Leonard’s police station. There were awards arranged on the windowsill behind him and others on the walls. Siobhan reckoned some probably dated back to schooldays. He’d even framed what looked like his university degree. He offered a seat to neither her nor Graham Sutherland. He’d had time to prepare the frown on his face and the hundred-yard stare.
‘You had a meeting with this Kelly scumbag just before his outburst,’ he said without preamble. ‘A little warning would have been nice.’
‘DI Clarke has assured me—’ Sutherland began, but Clarke took half a step forward, not quite shouldering him aside.
‘Would I be wide of the mark if I guessed it was ACU who told you?’ He didn’t seem inclined to answer. ‘With respect, think about how they could possibly know.’
‘What is it you’re saying?’
‘I’m saying they’re the ones who leaked to Dougal Kelly.’
‘As part of a continuing vendetta against you?’ Mollison smiled with half his mouth.
‘I know it was them,’ Clarke continued. ‘And they knew I’d call them out on it, so they got their defence in first.’
‘Did you or did you not meet with Kelly?’
‘I didn’t know he was going to be there.’
‘So you just thought it would be you and Laura Smith — the same reporter who saw you become the focus of an ACU investigation lasting much of last year?’
‘I didn’t realise she was on some sort of blacklist — anyone else I’m not supposed to consort with?’
‘Siobhan...’ Sutherland was giving her a warning.
‘I note,’ Mollison broke in, eyes on Sutherland, ‘that none of this seems to be coming as a surprise to you, Graham.’
‘DI Clarke volunteered the information, sir. She knew how it might look and wanted me to know.’
‘You didn’t see fit to pass the news along?’
‘Apologies for that.’
‘Our media office are apoplectic. They’ve got reporters demanding to know why we would talk to an incomer like Kelly and keep them in the dark.’
That figured, Clarke thought. With Mollison it was all about the public image.
‘All I can say, sir,’ Sutherland went on, ‘is that I’m minded to accept DI Clarke’s version of events. Someone leaked, but not her.’
‘And keeping her on the case won’t poison the atmosphere within MIT?’
‘DI Clarke has earned our trust, sir.’
Clarke kept her eyes on the wall behind Mollison, her face betraying nothing.
Mollison stayed silent, then gave a sigh. ‘ACU are champing at the bit to open an investigation.’
‘Surprise, surprise,’ Clarke couldn’t help muttering, earning her another hard stare.
‘From what I’ve heard,’ Mollison said icily, ‘I can’t see any reason for that investigation not to happen.’
‘Except,’ Sutherland broke in, ‘that it would interfere with the inquiry, just as we’ve reached a critical point. And hasn’t Police Scotland aired enough of its dirty laundry in public of late? Surely ACU can wait till the case is wrapped up?’
‘When someone is drip-feeding evidence to outside parties?’
‘No one from inside my team, sir.’
‘Who else then? Who else does Kelly know? Who has he met with?’ Mollison held up a thumb. ‘He knows Laura Smith — and who is it she knows?’ His eyes were on Clarke again.
‘He knows ACU too,’ she stated. ‘They’ve been giving him titbits from the original inquiry, covering their arses by grassing up everyone else.’
‘You can prove that, can you?’
‘My word against theirs,’ Clarke conceded. ‘Right up to the point Dougal Kelly goes public with it.’
Mollison grew thoughtful again. ‘Maybe ACU should be having a chat with Mr Kelly.’
‘Oh aye, that’ll go well.’ Clarke just about succeeded in not rolling her eyes. Sutherland was squeezing her elbow with his fingers.
‘Is there anything else, sir?’ he enquired.
Mollison considered this, then made a brushing motion with one hand.
‘Thank you, sir,’ Sutherland said. He gave Clarke the chance to say the same, but all she did was free herself from his grasp and open the door.
Outside, he puffed out his cheeks and exhaled.
‘Thanks for sticking up for me,’ Clarke said. ‘Even if it did mean telling a few untruths.’
‘I dare say it’s not the first time Mollison’s been lied to.’
‘I don’t want you getting in trouble on my account.’
‘I’m only protecting that game of pitch ’n’ putt you promised me. Besides, ACU do seem badly to want another crack at you.’
They had exited the station and were in its rear car park, where Clarke’s Astra waited. Another unmarked car sat at the end of a line of patrol vehicles — the black Audi, its driver’s-side window lowered, giving a view of Brian Steele.
‘Speak of the devil,’ Clarke commented. Then, to Sutherland: ‘I need a word with him, and I’d rather you weren’t a witness.’