by Bill Daly
Lesley Adams threw back the rest of her drink. ‘Everything’s a complete and utter mess!’
‘Get a grip of yourself. You’ve got nothing to reproach yourself about,’ Myra insisted.
‘Try telling that to the police.’
‘Is anyone saying you’ve done something wrong?’
‘Not so far. But you can bet your boots the cops will as soon as they find out about me and Gavin.’
‘You’re beating yourself up about nothing, Lesley. Gavin was nineteen when the two of you got together.’
‘The rules aren’t the same when you’ve been his social worker.’
‘He was nineteen, for God’s sake. It’s not as if he was a child. He was old enough to know his own mind.’ Myra got to her feet. ‘Same again?’ she asked, pointing at Lesley’s empty glass.
Lesley nodded.
Jack Mulgrew walked up slowly to the reception desk in London Road Police Station.
‘What can I do for you, sir?’ the duty officer enquired.
‘I want to file a complaint,’ he mumbled.
‘What kind of complaint?’
‘I want to report an assault.’
‘Who was assaulted?’
‘Me,’ Mulgrew said, holding up his bandaged hand.
‘When did that happen?’
‘Last Saturday night.’
‘Where?’
‘In The Jacobite Arms.’
‘Do you know who assaulted you?’
Mulgrew nodded. ‘Two blokes. Andy Carter and a boy called Gavin. They grabbed me in the bog and they nailed my hand to a cubicle door. It happened at half-past ten,’ he added quickly.
‘That’s a lot of detail, sir,’ Sergeant Harding said folding his arms across his chest. ‘Why did you not file a complaint before now?’
‘I was… I was scared of them.’
‘But you’re not scared of them any longer?’ Mulgrew lowered his eyes. ‘How come?’ Harding asked.
‘Of course I’m still scared of them – shit scared,’ Mulgrew said, looking up quickly. ‘But I’ve had it up to here with them. That wasn’t the first time they’ve given me a doing and if I don’t do something about it now they’re going to kick the fuck out of me again.’ Mulgrew hesitated. ‘Are you going to arrest them?’
‘Before I decide about that, how about you tell me what really happened?’
‘That’s what really happened!’ Mulgrew spluttered indignantly. ‘Andy Carter and Gavin grabbed me in the pub on Saturday night, at half-past ten, and nailed my hand to the bog door. If you don’t believe me, you can ask the landlord.’
‘Did he see them do it?’
‘No, they’d buggered off by the time he got there. But he found me nailed to the door all right. Just you ask him!’
Harding fixed Mulgrew with a stare. ‘Are you quite sure you want to go through with this?’
Mulgrew gazed down at the floor. Without raising his head, he nodded slowly.
‘Very good, sir,’ Harding said, heaving a heavy sigh. Pulling open the top drawer in his desk, he took out a form. ‘Let’s get all this down in writing.’
*
Gavin Carter was lying stretched out on the settee, watching the football highlights programme on television, when his mobile phone rang. When he saw who was calling, he hit the mute button on the television and took the call.
‘Can you talk?’
‘Sure.’
‘I think he suspects.’
‘Christ! How can he? What did he say?’
‘Nothing in particular, but he’s been acting strangely. He asked to borrow my phone because he said the battery on his was flat, but when he went to the loo I checked his phone and the battery was fine.’
‘Fucking hell! I hope there wasn’t anything on your phone?’
‘Of course not. I delete everything straight away.’
‘Shit!’ Gavin exclaimed. ‘I can hear someone at the door. I have to go. I’ll call you tomorrow morning.’
Cutting the call, he turned the sound back up on the television.
‘Just me!’ Lesley announced as she turned the key in the front door of the flat.
‘You’re late on the road tonight,’ Gavin called out. ‘What happened?’ he asked as he used the remote control to switch off the television. ‘I was starting to get worried about you.’
‘I like it when you worry about me,’ Lesley said, a silly grin plastered to her face as she stood in the doorway.
‘It looks like you’ve had quite a session,’ Gavin said, eyeing her up and down.
‘I had a couple,’ Lesley said defensively. ‘I was celebrating with Myra.’
‘Celebrating what?’
‘Murdoch getting what was coming to him.’
‘So you heard?’
‘The police came to see me this morning.’
‘The police?’ Gavin hesitated. ‘What did they want?’ he asked, frowning.
‘They asked me lots and lots of questions – about your Dad – and your uncle Andy – and Tommy.’ Lesley weaved her way across the room. ‘And they wanted to know all about you,’ she added, running her fingers through Gavin’s hair before planting a slobbery kiss on his lips.
‘What sort of questions were they asking?’ Gavin asked, easing Lesley away from him and holding her at arms’ length.
‘They’d seen the Drumchapel social work reports and they wanted to know if there was anything I could add.’
‘What did you tell them?’
‘Not a lot,’ Lesley shrugged.
‘Do they know who killed Murdoch?’ Gavin asked.
‘I don’t think so. But if they do,’ Lesley slurred, ‘they weren’t about to share the information with me.’
‘Did you tell them about us?’ Gavin asked.
‘No.’ Lesley let out a long, low sigh as she flopped down on the settee. ‘But I wish I had.’
CHAPTER 16
Tuesday 6 September
When Charlie Anderson arrived a few minutes early for his nine-thirty meeting with Donald Parker, the school secretary ushered him into the head teacher’s office.
Parker, a tall, slim man with rounded shoulders and a pronounced Adam’s apple, got to his feet. Stretching across his desk, he took Charlie’s hand in a limp grip, fingertips only.
‘Thank you for agreeing to see me at short notice,’ Charlie said as he settled down on the leather chair on the other side of the desk.
‘What can I do for you, Inspector?’
‘You know that we are investigating John Preston’s death?’ Charlie said. ‘The man you knew as John Murdoch?’
‘Yes.’
‘I would appreciate some background information.’
‘Such as?’
‘Were you aware that, some time ago, Murdoch was in a relationship with a male member of your staff?’
‘If you’re referring to Malcolm Steel,’ Parker said stiffly. ‘The answer is yes.’
‘How did you find out about that?’
‘They told me.’
‘On their own initiative?’
Parker nodded. ‘They both came to see me. It must have been about three years ago. Malcolm was head of the maths department at the time and John was a member of his staff. They told me they were intending to move in together – and they realised that could be perceived as causing a conflict of interest within the department.’
‘How did you resolve that?’
‘The month before, John had applied for a vacancy as a guidance teacher – and I knew he was going to be offered the position. He was qualified to teach both mathematics and computing science, so I adjusted the timetable in such a way that the only classes he would be taking from then on would be in computing science, which meant he would no longer be working in Malcolm’s department.’
‘Did the fact that they were going to be living together give you a problem?’
‘Not as such. They assured me that they would be discreet about their relationship, which they were. The official l
ine was that they were going to be flat-sharing, which is not at all uncommon – in fact, quite often necessary these days, considering the pitiful salaries teachers get paid. Of course, there were rumours. In such situations, there invariably are. But as long as it wasn’t affecting the smooth running of the school, I had no reason to interfere. However,’ Parker added, his brow wrinkling, ‘things turned sour about eighteen months ago when their relationship came to an abrupt end.’
‘Do you know what caused the break-up?’
‘Round about that time,’ Parker said, ‘Martin Gilligan, the father of one of our second-year pupils, Ronnie Gilligan, came to see me. He told me he wanted to lodge a formal complaint about Murdoch’s behaviour towards his son.’
‘What was the nature of the complaint?’ Charlie asked.
‘That Murdoch had made – how can I put this?’ Parker paused, his Adams’ apple bulging as he swallowed. ‘That Murdoch had made an improper suggestion to Ronnie in the school library.’ Parker broke off to cough into his fist. ‘I asked Mr Gilligan if he would be prepared to repeat his accusation in Murdoch’s presence. He said he would, so I summoned John to my office. John denied everything. He told Mr Gilligan that his son had a crush on him and that it was Ronnie who had made the so-called improper suggestion.’
‘How was the matter resolved?’
‘The nature of the accusation was extremely serious so I had to report the matter to the police. I informed Murdoch that he would be suspended from all teaching duties, pending an inquiry. However, before the police had time to even initiate an investigation, Mr Gilligan phoned to tell me that, having spoken again to his son, it appeared that there had been some kind of misunderstanding and he informed me that he was withdrawing his complaint. I pressed him to explain the nature of this misunderstanding, but he wasn’t prepared to discuss the matter any further. On that basis, Murdoch was re-instated.
‘At the same time as he withdrew his complaint, Mr Gilligan informed me that he intended to take Ronnie out of the school. Things then went from bad to worse. Within a month, two more boys in Ronnie’s class were withdrawn from the school in midterm for what were, at best, spurious reasons. I assumed that Gilligan must have been stirring things up with some of the other parents. I was starting to have serious concerns about the damage this might do the school’s reputation but, fortunately, things calmed down after that and there were no further withdrawals of pupils.’
‘Was that the end of the matter as far as you were concerned?’
‘A pupil has a crush on a teacher – the teacher doesn’t reciprocate – the pupil turns spiteful and accuses the teacher of sexual harassment. It wouldn’t be the first time that had happened, Inspector. I can’t say with any degree of certainty that that’s what happened in this case, but there are vindictive children around who would like nothing better than seeing their teacher get into trouble. Not long after that incident, I found out that Murdoch and Steel were no longer sharing a flat – in fact, it appeared that they were no longer even on speaking terms.’
‘Do you know why?’
‘No. But I suspected that Ronnie Gilligan’s accusations might have had something to do with it.’
‘Do you think there was any substance to those accusations?’
Parker shrugged his shoulders. ‘I can’t comment on that.’
‘Would Tommy Carter have been aware of Ronnie Gilligan’s accusations when he claimed that Murdoch had raped him?’
‘I don’t know. However, what I do know is that when Tommy’s social worker got in touch with me – a lady called Lesley… something or other.’
‘Lesley Adams,’ Charlie offered.
‘That’s the name.’ Parker nodded. ‘When Lesley Adams contacted me to tell me that Tommy Carter had accused Murdoch of assaulting him, she also told me that she knew about the Gilligan affair. I can only assume that she must have heard about that from Tommy.’
‘Would it be possible for me to speak to Mr Steel this morning?’ Charlie asked.
Parker consulted the timetable on his desk. ‘He’s got a free period at ten o’clock.’
Charlie glanced at his watch. ‘In which case, I’ll wait.’
‘You can use the deputy head’s office,’ Parker said. ‘I’ll let Malcolm know that you want to see him.’
Sergeant Harding called the Pitt Street switchboard and asked to be put through to Tony O’Sullivan.
‘Harding from London Road,’ he said when Tony took the call. ‘I believe you were called out to an incident in The Jacobite Arms last Saturday night when a guy by the name of Jack Mulgrew had his hand nailed to a door in the toilets?’
‘That’s correct.’
‘I thought you might be interested to know that Mulgrew came here last night. He wanted to file a formal complaint about the assault. He claims to know who attacked him.’
‘It wouldn’t happen to have been Jim Colvin, by any chance?’
‘Apparently not. He says it was someone called Andy Carter and a boy called Gavin.’
‘Really! That’s very interesting. What did you make of his story?’
‘More fishy than a barrel of kippers, if you ask me. After saying nothing for two days, all of a sudden, out of the blue, Mulgrew decides to file a complaint. And for some strange reason, he insisted that I record the fact that the assault took place at exactly ten-thirty.’
‘How did you leave it with him?’
‘I took down his statement and got him to sign it, then I told him I’d initiate enquiries and get back to him.’
‘I know Andy Carter, Sergeant. Leave it with me and I’ll get back to you when I get to the bottom of what’s going on.’
‘Very good.’
Charlie Anderson glanced up when he heard the sharp rap on the deputy head’s door.
‘Malcolm Steel,’ the tall figure announced as he strode in, offering his hand. ‘Mr Parker told me you wanted to see me, Inspector.’
Charlie did his best to hide his surprise as he took Steel’s hand in a firm grip. Not at all what he’d been expecting. Mid to late-fifties, shoulders pulled back, ramrod straight back, narrow, pencil moustache – more of a military bearing than that of an academic – thick-rimmed, tortoiseshell spectacles, prematurely greying hair.
‘Please accept my apology for interrupting your free period, Mr Steel,’ Charlie said.
‘That’s not a problem.’
‘The reason I wanted to talk to you today is that I’m investigating John Preston’s murder.’
Steel nodded. ‘Mr Parker told me that. It sounds strange when you refer to him as John Preston,’ Steel said. ‘To me, he’ll always be John Murdoch.’
‘I can understand that. How long had you known John?’
‘For about six years. In fact, ever since he came to work in my department, which was in 2005. It was his first teaching position after he graduated from training college.’ Steel hesitated. ‘I assume you know that we were in a relationship?’
‘Yes. I’m told your relationship broke up,’ Charlie said.
‘That is correct.’
‘Would you mind telling me why?’
Steel’s cheeks reddened. ‘Do I have to?’
‘No, you don’t have to.’
Steel shook his head. ‘I don’t suppose there’s any point in trying to cover anything up now,’ he said with a quick shake of the head. ‘There were problems, Inspector.’
‘What kind of problems?’
‘Other people. Young boys,’ he added quietly.
‘Did those young boys include Ronnie Gilligan?’ Charlie asked.
‘Yes.’
‘And Tommy Carter?’ Steel nodded. ‘I’m trying to establish if there was any substance to the accusations those boys made against John,’ Charlie said, ‘in order to determine who might have had a reason, real or imagined, to want to harm him.’
Steel walked slowly across the room to the window and gazed down on the empty playground. ‘I did everything I could to protect John, Inspect
or, even though I knew what he’d done.’ His voice dropped to little more than a whisper. ‘You see, I was in love with him.’
‘There’s nothing you can do to protect him now,’ Charlie said.
Steel turned round to face Charlie.
‘My job is to find out who killed John and bring them to justice,’ Charlie said. ‘It would assist me greatly in my enquiries if I could have your cooperation.’ Steel nodded his assent. ‘You mentioned just now that you knew what John had done.’ Charlie took out his notebook and unscrewed the top from his pen. ‘What did you mean by that?’
‘The reason John and I split up was because I found out about his paedophile activities.’
‘With Ronnie Gilligan?’
‘I know he tried to groom Ronnie. I don’t know if he managed to seduce him.’
‘Did he assault Tommy Carter?’
‘I’m sure he did. And there were others,’ Steel added.
‘Other pupils?’
‘Other young boys – none of them pupils here, as far as I’m aware.’
‘When did you find out about this?’
‘About eighteen months ago.’
‘How did you find out?’
‘I was on my own one evening, in the flat I shared with John, when my laptop went on the blink. There was an e-mail I needed to send urgently, so I borrowed John’s iPad – and I stumbled across images there I would have preferred not to have seen.’
‘Was his iPad not password protected?’ Charlie asked.
‘It was, but I knew the password. John was blasé about such things. He used the same password for just about everything. When I stumbled across those images, I looked up the history of his online searches and I discovered that he had visited several paedophile websites the previous day – and that he’d downloaded dozens of intimate photographs of young boys. I then looked through his e-mails and found out that he had been grooming several young boys, in various chatrooms. It looked as if this had been going on for months.
‘As soon as he got home, I had it out with him. At first he tried to make light of it. He said it was all just a bit of fun. He told me that he had only been amusing himself. He said that he liked looking at young boys’ naked bodies. Then he started teasing me – or, to be more precise, taunting me. He reminded me how much I enjoyed looking at his naked body, which was twenty years younger than mine – so why shouldn’t he enjoy the same kind of pleasure? I pointed out forcibly that grooming children wasn’t at all the same thing. He then came over all apologetic, telling me that he would mend his ways – promising me that he would never again get involved with young boys.’