The unburied dead

'How can I help you, Sergeant Hutton?'

'Won't take much of your time, Mr. Montague.' Had a geography teacher in first year called Montague. Hated him. Used to skelp you over the arse with the blackboard eraser. I could probably sue him now, if it wasn't for the fact he was murdered by one of the sixth years. 'Just like to ask you a couple of questions about Ian Healy.'

He looks vaguely curious, like he doesn't recognise the name.

'Your lawyer,' I add.

'I think there must be some mistake, Sergeant. All my affairs are handled by Harper, McCalliog and Brown of Ingram Street.'

Affairs? Harper, McCalliog and Brown? Bastard. Feel like arresting him for being an annoying bastard with a posh accent.

Subtlety edged to one side.

'Rape case, last year. Janie Northolt, one of your employees. Harper, McCalliog and Brown didn't handle that affair.'

Patronising smile disappears off face.

'Oh, him,' he says. 'What about him?' Looks at his watch. 'I really am rather busy, Sergeant.'

'Perhaps then you could come down to the station later to answer some questions?'

Gives me the look. That one always shuts them up. Trying to throw his weight around, but he ought to know better. No one gets away with that for long in Glasgow.

'Very well, Sergeant. But I really don't see how I can be of any help.'

'You know Ian Healy is wanted in connection with the murder of a woman and two police officers?'

He nods. Course he knows.

'We're just following up on all of his clients from the past couple of years. See what we can find.'

'Very thorough,' he says. Voice drips. What would I have to lose by punching this bloke in the face? Apart from, obviously, my job, and possibly my freedom for a few months?

'If all your affairs are handled by Harper, McCalliog and Brown, why did you go to a small time lawyer like Healy to deal with the rape charge?'

Stares down his nose at me.

'It was a delicate matter,' he says, voice thinner than cat gut. Looks at his watch.

'It was also a pretty big matter. A rape charge from one of your employees. Aren't Harper, McCalliog and Brown competent to deal with big matters?'

His teeth clenched behind pursed lips. Jaw pulses.

'The law may be black and white to you Sergeant, but there are some matters which you clearly don't understand.'

Right, that's it. Fuck this guy; fuck subtlety. Any more of that and I'm arresting the prick.

'Listen.' Lean forward. His head moves an inch or two back. 'I don't give a fuck about your sordid little rape. We know you raped the little fucker, we know you were arrested by Chief Inspector Crow, and we know you went to Healy because you found out he was a man who could deal with Crow. Money exchanged hands, Crow screwed up intentionally, and you walked.'

He starts to object, but I'm rolling.

'Fucking shut it. I don't care about your rape. I don't care about the pay off, about any of it. I'm worried about Healy. The guy's a murderer, we need to catch him. I just need from you everything you can tell me about him. That's it. Where you got his name, if you know why there's a connection between him and Crow. You can tell me now, or else there are certain people who can find out about your dodgy fucking dealing with serial killers.'

Say it all in about three seconds. Feels good. That's the thing about the police sometimes. You can let rip and they have to sit there and listen.

He fidgets. Fingers some papers which are lying on his desk. Toying with the idea, I suspect, of calling up some big cheese arsehole on the force that he plays bridge with on a Tuesday, and telling him to get the low-life cretin of a sergeant off his hands.

Fixes me with the look.

'I took it to Harper. He deals with my business.' That'll be Harper of Harper, McCalliog and Brown, presumably. Not Joe Harper, once of Aberdeen and Hibs. 'When he heard the name of the policeman involved, he said he had a reputation. That we might be able to deal with him. However, he didn't think it would be appropriate for Harper, McCalliog and Brown to get involved.' I bet he didn't. 'They mentioned the name of Ian Healy.'

'And you know why Healy and Crow were able to do business together? Was there a history?'

Looks smug. Not getting any more.

'Businesses trust me to run their affairs and to take care of their money, Sergeant. They don't need to know how I do it, or my relationship with others in the banking world. I don't see that lawyers and policemen are any different, do you?' Point taken, but he continues to spell it out because he likes the sound of his own voice. 'I know nothing of the way these men work. I paid the money, I was released from that ridiculous and wholly unfounded charge.'

Class dismissed. The look says it all.

'Did you deal with Ian Healy on any other matters?'

'No Sergeant, I did not, and I must say I'm finding all of this rather tiring. I am a busy man, Sergeant, so if you wouldn't mind taking your leave.'

Don't know how she knows, but the Germanic weightlifter in a skirt appears at the door and stands there waiting for the uninvited guest to get the fuck out of Dodge.

Have to accept defeat. I can't possibly arrest them both, no matter how much I'd like to. Stand up.

'Just don't think of going anywhere in case we need to speak to you again.'

His face starts to go red. With anger. Hit the mark.

'As it happens,' he says, and you can hear him struggling to control his voice, 'I'm taking my wife to Austria tomorrow night to spend New Year in Vienna.'

We stare each other down. Like in a movie. Man stuff, and a complete load of shite it is too. Decide against annoying him further and retreat slowly from the office.

Out into the freshness of afternoon. The snow in the centre of town has turned to slush, but it still lies on the roofs. Low cloud and cold. Looks like it might snow again.

Grab a burger, having had a totally unsatisfactory sandwich on the way there, then head back to the office. Some time after three when I walk in. Taylor's in his office, feet on the desk, staring at the ceiling. Wonder if he's found our man. Should know better.

'Hard at work?' I say as I walk in.

Takes his feet down, straightens up.

'You're a fucking idiot, aren't you, Hutton?'

'What'd I do now?'

Looks at me. I should know. Realisation kicks in. Didn't take the wanker long to get on the phone.

'Be subtle. Remember that instruction?'

'The guy was an arsehole. He was lucky I didn't… I don't know, kick fuck out him.'

'Nevertheless, even though you elected not to do that I still had Miller in here like a fucking tornado. Seemed to think it was my fault.'

'Well, if you can't control your staff,' I say, with that cheeky grin I nicked from Ally McCoist.

'Fuck off.'

Puts his feet back on the desk.

'Well, before you offended the delicate banker, did he tell you anything?'

'Nothing much. He was put onto Healy by his solicitors, Harper, McCalliog and Brown.' Taylor raises his eyebrows at the name. 'Said that he was known as someone who would do business with the police. But that's it. Or at least, that was all he was saying. Waste of time, I suppose. Still, I enjoyed annoying him.'

'Great, Hutton. Well, you can go and annoy Miller now, 'cause she wanted to see you when you got in.' Looks across the desk at me. 'You've been in there a few times in the last week. You're not shagging her are you?'

'I am as a matter of fact.'

He snorts. 'Aye, you fucking wish.' Stares at the floor, runs a hand through tired hair. 'Might have a go at it myself,' he says, 'now I've no reason not to.'

Quick change of subject.

'What about Bloonsbury,' I ask. 'You see him?'