Truth Lies Bleeding drb-1

by Tony Black

  ‘Right, Rob, glad you’re here.’

  He wondered if this was sarcasm.

  ‘Oh, yes.’ He pulled out the chair next to McGuire, sat. ‘Morning, Stevie.’

  ‘Sir.’

  The Chief Super walked round to the other side of the desk, smoothing her hair as she went. ‘There’s been some developments…’ She sat down and opened a blue folder on her desk.

  ‘There has?’

  She looked up; her eyes widened. ‘We tried to contact you. Was your phone off?’

  ‘No, I, erm…’ Brennan knew he was squirming, ‘I missed a call.’

  ‘Never heard of calling back?’

  ‘I was on the way to the office.’

  She seemed unconvinced, but let it slide. ‘Look, Stevie has the details. Why don’t you fill Rob in?’

  McGuire coughed nervously. He looked unprepared for the honour. ‘Eh, sure.’ He sat fidgeting in his chair, uncrossed his legs. ‘We have a positive ID.’

  Brennan leaned forward. ‘The teenager — Trish whatever — she came good?’

  Galloway interrupted, ‘No, Rob… That theory of yours was pretty wide of the mark.’

  He felt stung. Looked first to Galloway, then back to McGuire. ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘No, I don’t think you do,’ said Galloway. ‘Go on, Stevie.’

  By the time the DC had finished detailing the fact that the parents of sixteen-year-old Carly Donald had been able to identify their daughter without any doubts, Brennan’s mind had shifted from disbelief to stupefaction. He had dropped all the facts into the personal computer that was his brain and the answer had came back the same every time: local girl. If he was wrong, and it seemed he was, then he had lost his touch — that, or this murder investigation was shaping up unlike any other he’d been involved in.

  ‘Have you got that, Rob?… She’s not a local girl,’ said Galloway.

  Brennan twisted on the chair. ‘Yes, I heard the boy.’ The news had came as a shock to him, but the method of receiving it had come as an added embarrassment. He had told McGuire to relay all developments to him first. There was the missed call, and he could use that to cover his arse, but the lad had fucked him over for a second time and he didn’t like it. Putting Galloway in the picture about every new development on the case before him was going to make it impossible to operate, and the thought burned Brennan. He needed to get away, get out of the Chief Super’s office and try and make sense of all of this.

  Brennan stood up. ‘Right, I want the full SP, Stevie.’

  McGuire looked at the Chief Super first — was he waiting for her say-so? thought Brennan. ‘So, let’s get moving… Now, Stevie.’

  Galloway nodded and the DC rose, turned for the door. Brennan followed. He got as far as the other side of the glass, handle in hand, before the Chief Super called him back. ‘A word before you go, Rob.’

  He halted. ‘I’ve got my hands full here.’

  She pointed to the seat he’d risen from. ‘A word, Rob.’

  Chapter 19

  Brennan felt the muscles in his shoulders tightening as he went back into the Chief Super’s office. He didn’t give her the satisfaction of seeing him lowered before her — he brushed aside the offer of the chair and stood, hands on waist. ‘What is it?’

  Galloway rose to face him. She wasn’t going to give him a height advantage when she was wearing four-inch heels, he thought.

  She picked up the News, dropped it again. ‘They’re having a fucking field day.’

  Brennan shrugged. ‘Tell the press office.’

  She pointed a maroon fingernail at him. ‘I’m telling you.’

  He looked her in the eye. ‘What are you telling me, ma’am?’

  That riled her, the ma’am bit, always did. Brennan knew he was in no position to be cocky. To be cocky, you needed something to back it up, or big-time supporters, and he had neither.

  Galloway upped the volume a notch. ‘I’m telling you that if there’s another set of headlines like that, I’ll be wearing your balls as earrings. Do you get me?’

  He smiled. ‘I think they might stretch your ears.’

  She didn’t flicker, held her face stone. ‘I’m warning you, Rob… You’re on probation, don’t forget that. As easily as I handed you this case I can take it away.’

  It was a bluff, he was sure of it; who else was there to take over? The squad was stretched too tight. Not even her golden boy Lauder could take on another case. He was sound. Brennan stared at her for a moment: she was no more police than Stevie McGuire, she was a shiny-arsed careerist. A manager; an actress like Wullie said. But she had rank, and the force was all about rank. He held himself in check, said, ‘Nobody wants this bastard more than me.’

  She made a moue of her mouth. ‘I know that, but there’s a difference between wanting something and getting it.’ She’d made her point, asserted herself. As she sat down again she picked up the newspaper, folded it in two and dropped it in the waste-paper basket beside the desk. ‘No more headlines, Rob.’

  Brennan nodded, turned for the door.

  DC Stevie McGuire was waiting for him outside the Chief Super’s office. ‘Rob, can we talk?’

  Brennan walked past him, heading for the incident room. ‘Oh, we’ll talk Stevie. Soon enough.’

  Brennan walked fast, his stride powerful enough to lift the carpet at his heels. As he reached the room, the door was already open. One or two officers approached; he could tell they sensed the shift. Brennan flagged them down, said, ‘One minute.’ He made for the end of the room, stood looking at the board where the pictures of sixteen-year-old Carly Donald had been pasted up. There was a lot of white space.

  As Brennan placed his jacket on the back of a chair a small crowd began to gather. He noticed DC Stevie McGuire lurking at the back and motioned him to the front.

  ‘Right, listen up.’ Brennan’s voice reverberated around the room. ‘We have a positive ID for our victim. I don’t need to tell you that we have our nuts over the fire, and the press are pouring on the petrol, so we need to get moving.’ He turned to McGuire, who had reached the front of the crowd. ‘Right, Stevie… Fill them in on our victim.’

  There was silence in the room as the DC cleared his throat, and read from the file. ‘Carly Donald was sixteen, a schoolgirl from Pitlochry.’ Some audible surprise was registered.

  ‘Listen up,’ said Brennan. ‘Go on, Stevie.’

  ‘She’s the daughter of the Reverend John Donald, and his wife, Frieda, a housewife. They’ve formally identified the body.’

  Brennan took over. ‘Right. That’s it so far. Not much to go on but we’ll be interviewing the parents in due course. Meantime, I want this girl’s world turned upside down and anything that falls out put on my desk. I want you out there knocking doors, now. Friends, teachers, hockey team-mates, youth club members, the man she bought her Smarties from — I want them all spoken to. Got that?’

  The group answered together, ‘Yes, sir.’

  Brennan held the crowd rapt as he moved on to disseminate specific instructions. ‘Brian, I want you to grab all the CCTV. I want footage from the train stations, the bus station, taxi ranks, BP garages, truck stops… Anywhere you might think she’d show if she was coming here from the north.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Lou, get on the homeless shelters in the city. She had to be staying somewhere. Check out all the halfway houses, the cheap hostels in Hillside and elsewhere. This was a young girl away from home… Think where she’d go, think where she’d end up.’

  ‘Sir.’

  Brennan looked round the room again. His eyes lighted on another face. ‘Davie, find out how she supported herself. Was she brass? If she was working the streets, who was pimping her? Call the faces in — all of them.’

  ‘Yes, boss.’

  The room remained quiet, still, as Brennan leaned forward, rested his elbows on the back of his chair. ‘I don’t need to remind you that this is a young girl from a respectable family.
She’s been cut up in the most brutal fashion imaginable. The media are already interested. When they get the full details they are going to go ape-shit. I want you all to work fast, but stay alert. Don’t let anything slide, don’t think twice about throwing up anything to Stevie or me — we’ll look at everything. Now, one more thing: I’m cancelling all leave with immediate effect.’ He paused, expecting to hear groans. None came. ‘Good, I’m glad you understand. We need to move like lightning. Our killer has already tried to cover their tracks and I want this bastard behind bars. Right, get to work.’

  The group scattered. Brennan yanked his jacket from the chair, headed for the office. As he went, he called out, ‘Stevie, in here now.’

  DC McGuire followed him in.

  ‘Shut the door.’ The young officer pressed a hand on the glass panel; there was a gentle click as the door closed.

  McGuire was speaking before he turned round: ‘I didn’t go to her. I went to you, but your phone rung out… What was I supposed to do?’

  ‘How about fucking try again?’

  McGuire’s mouth opened, closed quickly, then words seemed to come through clenched lips: ‘I did. I did. Look, she was here, in the office and asking questions all night. I could hardly…’

  Brennan got the picture. He conceded that McGuire hadn’t gone out of his way to shaft him. At least, he gave him the benefit of the doubt on this occasion. Too much had happened in the last twenty-four hours to think about settling scores right now. The case had to be first priority.

  ‘Did you haul in Trish Brown last night?’ said Brennan.

  ‘Yes, I did. Look, boss, I saw the initial pathology report too and I thought about the indicators but I just don’t think-’

  Brennan interrupted, ‘Good, I don’t fucking want you to think. Did you get her swabbed and dabbed?’

  McGuire nodded. ‘Yes. Should have results around late morning.’

  ‘Where’s she now — Trish?’

  ‘Downstairs. We’re holding her and the other girls. Sir, I have to say, they knew fuck all.’

  Brennan shook his head from left to right. ‘Not a hint?’

  ‘They were silly wee girls, just talk, y’know. Lou and me, we went through them till the wee hours. Got nothing. I think we’re barking up the wrong tree.’

  He was probably right, thought Brennan. If the victim wasn’t local, the chances of her knowing the girls that found her remains looked slim now. He said, ‘Wait for the lab boys. If you get the all-clear, let them go. But if there’s any dubiety, I want to know.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘And you warn them to keep their traps shut in front of the fucking press!’

  McGuire nodded. ‘Of course, sir.’

  Brennan told the DC to type up the interviews and have them on his desk by close of play, then, ‘Tell me about Carly’s parents, Stevie.’

  He moved forward, pulled out a chair. ‘Queer fish if you ask me.’

  ‘How come?’

  ‘Well, they’re your typical sheep-shaggers for a start — northerners, y’know. Full of religion.’

  ‘He’s a minister — I’d be surprised if they weren’t.’

  McGuire sat on the edge of the chair. ‘Nah, it’s more than that. There was a couple of times I thought he hushed her up, like she was going to say something he didn’t want to get out. They were very guarded, cautious.’

  Brennan leaned forward. He scratched his brow. ‘You think they’re not letting on about something?’

  ‘I don’t know… It was just a feeling I got.’

  Brennan had learned to trust those feelings. ‘Then we should get them on the rack.’

  McGuire seemed doubtful: ‘They were a nice couple.’

  ‘I don’t give a flying fuck, boy. Their daughter’s been killed — you know most victims know their murderers, don’t you?’

  McGuire looked at his hands, turned over his palms. ‘Yes, boss.’

  Chapter 20

  DC McGuire stood up. He was turning for the door when it was suddenly flung open. Dr Lorraine Fuller stood in the jamb.

  ‘I’ll get you in the car park, Stevie,’ said Brennan.

  ‘Yes, sir. Do you want me to call ahead?’

  The DI nodded. ‘Yes. Do that.’

  As McGuire left the office Lorraine walked towards Brennan’s desk. He offered her a seat. For a moment Brennan wondered if she was going to cause a scene, then he remembered who he was dealing with — Lorraine was far too collected for that kind of thing. Then there were the consequences; neither of them wanted black marks on their employment records at this stage.

  ‘Would you like something? A coffee, maybe?’

  ‘I’m not here for tiffin, Rob.’ She lowered herself onto the office chair, crossed her legs. Brennan noticed her calf — she had very defined muscles.

  ‘If it’s about last night…’

  ‘You know bloody well what it’s about.’

  Brennan sighed. The heavy rise and fall of his chest didn’t go unnoticed by the psychologist. Lorraine rolled her eyes in response. When she brought them back to Brennan he had eased himself onto the corner of the desk. A siren howled from beyond the window. ‘I had every intention of coming round but I stopped off at the morgue on the way home and…’

  She looked at him as he spoke; her lips widened momentarily then dropped slightly. ‘I didn’t realise.’

  ‘The victim was a young girl, barely sixteen.’

  Lorraine stood up. ‘Look, I shouldn’t have come. I know this must be very stressful for you after…’

  Brennan smiled. ‘It’s my job. It’s not stressful in the slightest for me, you know that… I hope that’s what you told Galloway as well.’

  Lorraine leaned over, picked up her briefcase. As she did so, Brennan noticed more buttons than usual were open on her blouse. ‘Aileen only listens to what she wants to hear.’

  ‘We need to talk about that… and a few other things.’

  Lorraine turned from him, walked for the door, said, ‘You know where to find me. I’m home alone most nights and the number hasn’t changed.’

  Brennan placed a hand on her arm. The act made him feel self-conscious and he ceased it quickly. ‘Let me get a handle on this case… Once I’ve done that…’

  She nodded. As she held her head firm a small muscle twitched in her neck. ‘Look, Rob… I have something to say.’

  ‘Well, say it.’

  She lowered her grey eyes; her lids closed for a moment and then she lifted her head towards the ceiling in one swift movement. Brennan knew she was searching for strength. He was about to prompt her again but she seemed to find some steel, raised up her briefcase on one leg and popped the fastener. She appeared to know what she was looking for and found it quickly. As she removed her hand, Brennan spotted the small piece of card. She put it to her chest for a moment, shielded it, then turned it over and handed it to him.

  Brennan took the card — it was a picture. Black and white, a bit fuzzy round the edges, but he’d seen something like it before. ‘What’s this?’

  Lorraine stayed quiet, stared at him.

  ‘Is this a scan?’

  She nodded. ‘I didn’t expect you to be overjoyed but I thought you might take it better than this.’

  ‘You’re pregnant.’

  A tut. ‘Ever the detective.’

  Brennan didn’t know what to say. He offered the picture back to Lorraine; she shook her head. ‘Keep it, I’ve got others.’

  ‘Lorraine, I–I…’

  She turned around. ‘Take your time… You’ll find the words.’

  As she left the office, Brennan tucked the picture in his pocket. He put on his jacket and collected the blue folder from his desk. His mind seemed to be ablaze, unable to settle on one set of thoughts. He took a moment to look out the window towards the city streets; it was cloudy, but there was no rain. He pitched himself on the rim of the ledge to see further into the distance but the view had no appeal. Brennan turned away and sighed. He
knew Lorraine had every right to feel angry with him: she had stood by him, helped him straighten things out with the review board and with Galloway. She had even offered to resign her job so they could formalise their relationship, and he’d rewarded her how? By treating her like a tart. And now she was carrying his child. He had felt something for her, genuinely. He may not have known just what it was but there was a definite connection. Had it passed? Was it just another phase he was going through that made him think he had no more time for Lorraine? He didn’t know. All he did know was the situation had suddenly got more complicated than ever.

  Brennan rubbed the stubble on his chin. So, there was more than one difficult situation that needed his attention, but they would all have to wait. Until he had that young girl’s killer before the courts, everything would have to wait. He headed out.

  In the car park Brennan lit a Silk Cut and waited for McGuire to work out that he was waiting to be collected from the front of the building. He got three or four good pelts out of the cigarette before the silver Cavalier drew up beside him. He let McGuire sit with the engine running for a moment or two as he took short draws on the filter tip. He still couldn’t get a decent smoke out of the Silk Cut but he persisted. Life was all about perseverance, wasn’t it?

  In the car Brennan opened the file and looked through some of the notes that had been made by Galloway that morning. She had scribbled some inane remarks about the pathologist’s preliminary report and double-underlined instructions to make the kind of checks even the most wet behind the ears on the squad would do without thinking. The woman infuriated him. She was completely unaware of her own unsuitability for a life in the force and seemed to be in full receipt of the kind of arrogance that made her stupidity even more galling to all those who noticed it. She was, however, racing up the ranks. She obviously had her protectors and backers and it wouldn’t be wise to get on the wrong side of her. Certainly not in a probationary period.

  Brennan was first to break the silence in the car. ‘Where are they staying?’

  ‘The Travelodge, sir.’

  ‘Which one?’

  ‘The new one… Out at Cameron Toll.’ Brennan felt relieved — there was also a Travelodge on the same street as the morgue; staying there would have been more than a little odd.