18 - Aftershock

by Quintin Jardine

  ‘If that’s what it takes,’ said Maggie, grimly, ‘I’ll take a blood sample myself.’

  ‘You’ve got to find him first. That may be impossible. Right now, I agree, it looks as if your best route is through Richards, but that won’t be easy. He’s part of an international trading company, and if the CEO won’t fly, he must be all over the place on business. He’ll have dozens of opportunities to make contact with Dražen in the course of a year. Best thing to do is have a talk with our friend Adrian; see if he can help.’

  ‘First thing tomorrow. Thanks again, Bob, for all this. You’re only indulging me, I know, but I appreciate it. You’ve no idea how much it helps.’

  ‘Indulging you? I’m bloody well not. You’ve only been on this for a couple of days, and look at the results you’ve got already.’

  ‘The next part’s going to be the hardest, though,’ she said. ‘But I promise not to disturb your holiday again. Say sorry to Aileen for me, please.’

  ‘I will. She’s upstairs just now, refreshed after a siesta and getting ready to hit the town.’

  ‘Sounds good. How’s it going anyway? Are you having a quiet time, apart from me, that is?’

  She heard him chuckle. ‘Quiet time? You ask your ex and his mate how quiet it’s been.’

  Thirty-seven

  ‘From where you’re sat, Jack,’ Lisanne Weekes asked, ‘do I look like a fool?’

  ‘No. You look to me like someone who’s guilty of nothing worse than trust, and that isn’t a crime in my book. It’s a virtue, even though it can get you hurt.’

  ‘Like when it’s given to the wrong person, you mean?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘See?’ She smiled at him wistfully. ‘You do think I’m an idiot.’

  ‘I don’t, honestly. I don’t think that Mae Grey’s an idiot either, and from what I’ve heard of Sugar Dean, I don’t believe that she was. You’re good women, all of you, who happened to fall for a bad man. In my job, I’ve met a hundred people like you . . . not all of them women, I have to say.’

  They were in an Asian restaurant, near Haymarket, not far from McGurk’s office. It had not been one of its busiest nights: as their coffee arrived they were the only customers left, although the sergeant expected that there would be a late rush as the pubs began to empty.

  ‘Are you a good person?’

  He looked at her across the table. ‘What do you reckon?’

  ‘I reckon you are, otherwise I wouldn’t be here. But there you are, I’ve never met you before in my life and I trust you to keep me company while your people tear my home apart.’

  ‘And put it back together again.’

  ‘I’m sure they will, as best they can, but I’ll still know they’ve been there, touching my stuff. I’m sure I’ll feel terrible about it tomorrow. Right now, it’s all a blur: I don’t really think I believe it yet.’

  ‘I’m sorry. Truly, I am. It’s not a job that Becky and I enjoyed.’

  ‘You did it very well, though. You were very kind, both of you. You’ve been kind here too. I was expecting the interrogation to go on, but we’ve talked about football, films, the Royal Family; anything but Theo bloody Weekes.’

  ‘We’ve asked you all we need to ask you,’ said McGurk. ‘You can interrogate me now, if you like.’

  ‘About him? No, he’s a rat: I don’t want to know any more about him. He and I have been cruising along for too long. Like I said, he’s been my weakness. I don’t think I’ve ever stopped to ask myself whether I love him, but sitting here now, I know that I don’t. We were young when we met, barely out of school. One thing just followed another, until we wound up married, just before he gave up his garage job and joined the police.’ She stopped abruptly. ‘You’re holding him overnight,’ she said, ‘but will he be out tomorrow?’

  ‘Maybe. I can’t say.’

  ‘If you do have to let him go, will you tell him to stay away from me?’

  ‘I can pass that on.’

  ‘But can you make him?’

  ‘I can’t order him not to go near you. But if he does, and he persists, you should phone me or Becky and make a complaint. His feet won’t touch the ground then. Mind you, even if he is cleared and released, his police career will still be hanging by a thread. If he’s got any thought of staying on the force, he’ll listen when he’s warned to leave you alone.’

  ‘Is there anything you haven’t told me about him?’

  ‘Yes, but you probably don’t want to hear it.’

  ‘You’re bloody wrong: I do.’

  ‘Sure?’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘Sugar chucked him because he gave her gonorrhoea.’

  Lisanne threw back her head. ‘The bastard,’ she hissed. ‘The dirty bastard.’

  ‘You told us about that time a couple of years ago when he didn’t see you for a bit? It was probably because he was being treated.’

  ‘I’m surprised he didn’t accuse me of giving it to him.’

  McGurk frowned. ‘All other things aside, he’d know you didn’t have the opportunity. Remember Byron? Weekes was stalking you, Lisanne: all the time, you, and Sugar, and Mae.’

  ‘He’s nuts.’

  ‘Whether he is or not, his return to the job will depend on a psychologist’s report.’

  She shuddered. ‘That’s enough. Not only do I never want to see him again, I don’t want to hear any more about him. Change the subject. Let’s talk about you instead. Are you married? I guess not, since you were free to take me out.’

  ‘Separated,’ he told her.

  ‘Do you stalk your ex?’ She put her hand to her mouth, as if to stop the question, but it had escaped. ‘God, I’m sorry, that was terrible.’

  He grinned. ‘Yes, but in the circumstances, understandable. I admit that I had a problem for a couple of months; I went through the jealous phase, and I did watch the house once or twice after I moved out. But we’re fine now. The job’s been our main problem. Mary’s never liked it. Eventually she gave me an ultimatum.’

  ‘And you chose the police?’

  ‘I’m afraid so. Still think I’m a good person?’

  ‘I think you’re an honest one. I think Mary’s dead wrong, expecting you to give up a career you love. If you did that you’d never look at her in the same way again . . . at least, I wouldn’t in your shoes.’

  ‘That’s what I’ve tried to tell her, but without success. She’s tried support groups for officers’ wives, we’ve tried marriage-guidance counselling . . . disastrously, for the counsellor turned out to have a police record and took her side . . . but nothing’s helped. I reckon we’re at the end of the road now.’

  ‘And you don’t sleep with her any more?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Wise man. If you’re ever tempted, look at me and the bother that got me into.’

  They were still laughing when his mobile sounded. It was Stallings.

  ‘That’s us done, Jack,’ she said. ‘You can bring her home now. No firearm. Nothing at all, in fact, but we’ve bagged the jacket and jeans Lisanne told us about for further examination.’

  ‘And the rest?’

  ‘Bin-bags. I’ll have someone dump them in Weekes’s place tomorrow.’

  ‘Okay. See you in the morning, unless you want me back at the office.’

  ‘Hell, no! I’m off home to debrief Detective Sergeant Wilding. Good night.’

  ‘Cheers.’ He switched off the Samsung and slipped it back into his pocket, then waved to a waiter for the bill. ‘That’s it,’ he said. ‘We’re out of your life.’

  He paid by card and kept the receipt. ‘Theo knew about Mary and me,’ he told her, as they left the restaurant. ‘I used to be the deputy chief’s exec, and his marriage broke up at the same time as mine. “The curse of the command corridor,” they called it. It was the talk of the force for a while, went all the way round the gossip circuit.’

  ‘Were they saying you had a thing going?’ Lisanne laughed.

  ‘You’ve n
ever met the deputy chief. Anyone whispering that even in jest would be singing soprano for the rest of his short, sad life.’

  The drive back to her flat took less than five minutes. ‘I’ll walk you up,’ said McGurk. ‘I need to reassure myself that they haven’t left a mess.’

  They climbed to the second floor of the old sandstone building. It had been renovated, like most of the property in the area, and the stairwell was brightly lit, and carpeted. The front door was larger than usual, but the six-foot-eight-inch sergeant still had to watch his head as he stepped inside.

  He stood in the hallway as Lisanne moved from room to room; when she reappeared she was smiling. ‘It’s tidier than I left it,’ she told him, ‘and I’m not kidding.’

  ‘That’s good. I must get them in to do my place.’ He turned and ducked under the door. ‘Good night, then.’

  ‘Jack.’

  He paused.

  ‘Would you think I was pushy if I asked if I could see you again?’ she asked.

  He frowned, until his eyes gave him away. ‘I was going to give it a couple of days,’ he replied, ‘then call you. What are you doing on Friday night?’

  ‘Whatever you like.’

  ‘A meal and a couple of pubs? Pick you up about seven?’

  ‘Sounds good. See you then.’

  He was half-way downstairs when she called after him: ‘Hang on!’

  They met on the first-floor landing. ‘There’s something else,’ she said, removing, as she spoke, the necklace charm he had been admiring all evening. It was silver, like its chain, but he had been unable to see what it was meant to be. ‘I forgot I had this on. Would you put it with the rest of Theo’s stuff? He gave it to me that last Friday he was here. I want no part of it now.’

  ‘No problem.’ He held out his hand and she dropped it on to his palm. He looked at it in the bright light of the stairwell and felt his heart jump. The charm was small, about half the normal size, but it was, unmistakably, a representation of a cube of sugar.

  Thirty-eight

  ‘You’re looking good,’ said Andy Martin.

  ‘But different, sir, yes?’

  ‘That can’t be denied. The uniform suits you, though.’

  ‘Thank you, sir.’ Chief Inspector David Mackenzie snapped his heels together and gave a small mock bow. ‘It’s taken some getting used to, I admit, but the alternative was losing it, leaving the force altogether, and I didn’t need that. I may have said so, when I was at my blackest, but the job’s important to me.’

  The two men had met before, on a drugs operation in Edinburgh. It had been successful, but it had started a chain of events that had proved disastrous for Mackenzie, plunging him into depression and a bout of near-alcoholism.

  ‘I’m different in a few ways,’ he said. ‘For a start, nobody calls me Bandit any more. That persona’s gone for good: when it came to the test, I didn’t have the nuts to live up to it.’

  ‘That’s not what I’ve heard. It was a bad scene, and you went into it.’

  ‘Then froze solid, sir. You can’t do that: if you do, you’re putting the lives of colleagues in danger.’

  ‘That’s true,’ Martin conceded, ‘but, David, you didn’t go to work that morning expecting to go into armed action. You weren’t part of a specialist unit, you just happened to be there at the time. I was told that you volunteered, and that once you were in you went as far as you could. That’s all any of us can do. You’re a damn good officer, and I’m happy to be working with you.’

  ‘It’s good of you to say so, sir.’

  ‘Ask around and you’ll find that I never say things I don’t mean. Now, let’s get on with this task. You know what I’ve been asked to do?’

  ‘Yes, sir. The chief constable gave me a full briefing.’

  ‘Good. Before we get started, though, that’s five “sirs” in as many minutes. I’ve never been one for formality, among senior officers at any rate, so when it’s just you and me, it’s Andy. Fair enough?’

  Mackenzie nodded.

  Martin moved behind Bob Skinner’s desk, settled into his chair, and glanced out of the window, across to the deserted Broughton High School, its pupils turned loose to holiday with their parents, or to roam the city’s streets. ‘Right,’ he continued. ‘I’ve been doing some thinking about this overnight and I’ve decided how I want to proceed. The investigation shouldn’t take more than a couple of days, but for its purpose I must be formal, from start to finish. I’m going to be interviewing people I know, guys I used to go to the pub with when I was here. So we’ll do it in uniform, both of us, and we’ll record every word said.’ He smiled. ‘From what I’ve been told, that’s going to cause the Crown Agent a lot of grief, but I haven’t been brought down here to massage his ego.’

  ‘How do you want to begin?’ asked Mackenzie.

  ‘I’m going to spend this morning reading the files relating to all the investigations, including the Sugar Dean inquiry. While I’m doing that I want you to speak to DCS McGuire and Detective Superintendent McIlhenney and have them help you compile a list of all the people in this force who had access to those details of the Ballester murders that were kept from the media. Before that, though, I want you to phone the Crown Agent and have him do the same thing, list the people in his office that we need to interview. That’s where we’ll begin, this afternoon. And I want Joe Dowley himself to be our first appointment. There’s something about his whole attitude that I don’t understand, and I’m going to find out what it is.’

  Thirty-nine

  Becky Stallings glanced at her watch as McGurk stepped into the incident room, transferred from the golf club to divisional headquarters at Torphichen Place.

  ‘Sorry, boss,’ he said. ‘I had a call to make before I came in.’

  ‘Ah,’ said the inspector. ‘I was beginning to think you’d had an unexpectedly late night.’

  He smiled ingenuously. ‘Don’t know what you mean.’

  ‘Nice meal?’

  ‘Yes, it was. I kept the receipt, though.’

  ‘God!’ Stallings gasped. ‘I put you in the way of a date with a nice girl and you want to put in on exes. You Scots guys, you’re amazing.’

  ‘That’s often said, Becky. Any developments?’

  She nodded. ‘Some. The boys at the lab have been putting in overtime. They found a hair on Weekes’s jacket that’s a match for the victim.’

  ‘Have you charged him yet?’

  ‘It’s not as easy as that. That jacket’s three years old. Sauce checked the bar code with River Island and they confirmed it. He could have picked up that sample a while ago, so it doesn’t help us place him at the crime scene.’

  ‘What about the DNA traces that were found there? Does he match any of them?’

  ‘No, that’s a blank.’

  ‘So what’s our next move?’

  ‘We’re going to re-interview him, but he’s got a solicitor on the case now, and she’s insisting on being present. Her name’s Frances Birtles. Do you know her?’

  ‘Frankie Birtles? Also known as Frankie Bristles. Oh, yes, we all know her. She’s a hard case.’

  ‘I was afraid of that. That’s how she struck me, and it’s why I’m not getting excited about the jacket. We could try and bluff him, hit him with it, hard, but we wouldn’t get far: she’d be on to us straight away.’

  ‘We could lean on his behaviour,’ McGurk suggested, ‘his admission of stalking Lisanne and Sugar, and the threat Mae heard him make. Female lawyer: even Frankie might not be too impressed by that.’

  ‘He’s already backed off that. His brief’s already told me that any statements made at his first interview were under duress and are withdrawn.’

  ‘Duress, my arse.’ The sergeant laughed.

  ‘She’s saying more than that, though. She’s claiming he felt under career pressure, and that he was telling us what he thought we wanted to hear, to protect his job. No, Jack, we’ll interview him, but then we’ll have to turn him loose, mayb
e even return him to duty if she pushes it.’

  ‘I don’t think that’s going to happen.’ McGurk was still smiling.

  ‘What’s with you?’ said Stallings. ‘You didn’t score, did you?’

  ‘In a manner of speaking.’ He reached into his pocket, took out a small, clear evidence capsule and laid it on the inspector’s desk. ‘Lisanne gave me that last night,’ he said. ‘It was a present from Theo, on the day that Sugar was murdered. I’ve just been to see John Dean. He confirmed that his daughter had an identical necklace to that one. It was a Christmas present from Weekes, when they were going out. She liked it: after they broke up it was the only thing from their relationship that she kept. She wore it all the time, and she had it on the last time her father saw her, when she left for work on the day she was murdered.’

  Stallings stared up at him, her mouth slightly agape. ‘Jack,’ she murmured, ‘you have made my morning. Let’s go and talk to PC Weekes.’

  ‘And will we do his lawyer the courtesy of telling her what we’ve got?’

  ‘Nah, I’m out of courtesy. She can find out at the same time as he does. Come on. They’re both waiting for us in the interview room. The custody officer told me that Weekes is in a foul mood after his night in the cells. Let’s go and make it worse.’

  She led the way downstairs, to the interview room at the back of the building.

  Theo Weekes was seated at the table, beside a fair-haired woman, power-dressed in a pin-striped trouser suit. He glared up at the two detectives as they entered: his eyes were bloodshot and the dark outline of an incipient beard covered his chin.

  ‘You’re fucked,’ he said, glaring directly at McGurk, ignoring Stallings. ‘This is going all the way when I get out of here. The Federation’s going to crap all over you, pal, and so am I.’