***
Dornan and Healy sat in Susan Dornan’s room. Dornan didn’t like Joe Turner, but believed him. Healy didn’t like him much either, but definitely didn’t believe him.
‘It was him…no doubts at all.’
‘No. Harris is our man.’
‘Weekend in Marbella says it’s Turner?’
‘Deal!’
The word had come out of Dornan’s mouth before she had really thought about what the bet actually was. Healy left her office with more than a hint of a smile. Dornan followed with a look of bewilderment on her face.
The DNA results from the semen samples would be available in the next couple of days. Dornan and Healy were both confident things would be clearer then.
‘Susan, fancy a quick drink tonight?’
Susan felt awkward. She might be reading Healy all wrong but woman’s intuition and all that.
It was only one drink.
‘OK, fine.’
‘Maybe catch a bite to eat,’ said Healy, ‘hear Dan’s Diner is not bad.’
***
‘Colin Banks was a very good surgeon officer. Some would say a little bit strange, distant, childlike, odd even; but it was when his mother died he completely retreated into his own world’ explained Mary Stringer to Paul Allan; as they sat in her office in Ross Hall hospital.
‘In what way?’ asked Paul Allan.
‘You have to understand the background officer. It’s not an excuse for what Colin became; merely a partial explanation.’
‘Can you tell me...this is a murder investigation?’
‘Colin Banks lived with his mother right up until her death about 15 years ago. She was the real monster in my opinion; a domineering, frightful woman. A staunch catholic in the very worst sense, she brought up Colin alone after her husband ran off with another woman when Colin was only one or two. Guilt and punishment were the order of the day and an almost pathological hatred of women, “fallen, all of them, sluts”. Colin never stood a chance.’
‘Yet he became a surgeon.’
‘Oh yes. He was extremely intelligent, but the pull of Oedipus is strong, officer; too strong for many to resist.’
Paul Allan wasn’t exactly sure what that statement meant, but he had a very uncomfortable feeling about it.
‘Please go on.’ he urged.
‘As I said, Colin was always a little bit odd, but after his mother’s death unsettling things started to be noticed here. Then a Funeral Home Director contacted us to question if it wouldn’t be more appropriate if our research were carried out in a hospital.’
‘What kind of research?’
‘That’s just it. We didn’t know what he was talking about.’
‘So Banks was carrying out research on his own?’
‘I wish that were the case officer. I do so wish that. To cut a long and complex story short; Colin Banks had been removing tissue from dead patients, females only. He didn’t have access to enough dead bodies here in the hospital and so he had approached some undertakers with a complex story about vital research, saying he only needed a short period of access to the bodies. Paid them, of course, no questions asked. It was later found out he was removing tissue from the bodies.’
‘What was he doing with the tissue?’
Mary Stringer shrugged.
‘That’s not all. I’m afraid.’
‘Oh.’
‘It was noticed that a certain substance appeared on the bodies, or the coffin, or sometimes here on the sheets of a dead patient’s bed.’
‘Certain substance?’
‘Semen.’
Paul Allan thought he might well throw up.
‘You mean...?’
‘Strictly no, not necrophilia, penetration never took place. Colin Banks masturbated over the bodies. You know officer a man is far more likely to turn into the thing he hates than kill that thing.’
‘Meaning?’
‘He became a hater of women.’
Paul Allan thanked Mary Stringer and left her office as quickly as possible, more for fresh air than a desire to get back to the station. He was glad it was now his week-end off, he needed a drink and to take his mind off what he had just heard.
Like any major city, Glasgow has a wide cross section of the human condition, and an ample number of night clubs to cater for all tastes. At any given moment in time there are “in” places, “so yesterday” places, and places where trendy footballers and policemen are never seen. These clubs are otherwise known as gay clubs.
Paul Allan was always discreet and he was sure that no-one on the force knew about his private life. He wasn’t entirely sure why it was that he felt he had to keep his sexuality private. He just knew that it would be better all round.
He was standing at the bar in Bennett’s, Glasgow’s foremost gay club. He was relaxed enough, and was receiving admiring glances, but despite downing a couple of JD’s and cranberry he couldn’t get Colin Banks’ past proclivities out of his head.
‘And they call us queer. Jesus Christ.’
Chapter 6
A fortnight had now passed since the killing of Kate Turner. Pressure had been put on the Forensics labs to produce the results for the DNA samples that had been sent; but sheer volumes of work meant that no specific times could be guaranteed. However, Dornan had received a call the previous evening to say that the results would be known in the morning. Dornan called Healy and they agreed to meet up at 7.00am. Healy still had a good feeling about the way their drinks night had gone. Susan Dornan spent the drive into work wondering how to deal with what she felt was becoming an awkward situation. Maybe I should be flattered but for reasons too numerous to count there was no chance of a romantic relationship with Matt Healy forming. No way. She knew she would have to let him know; but how to do it without causing a rift between them or, even worse, having to request a move for Healy thereby further damaging his career and self-esteem? She would mention in general conversation that she had a date the following night and that would maybe ease the situation. In truth, she had been quite surprised when she had gotten the call from Tom Barbour, a man she had met a few nights previously in the Merchant City, but he seemed nice and he had booked “Rococo” for a meal so he was no meanie. Unless he expects me to go Dutch, of course!
They had both grabbed for what passed as coffee and were sitting in Dornan’s room along with DC Paul Allan. The rest of the squad hadn’t arrived yet.
‘Jesus fucking Christ,’ but for once Healy wasn’t shouting at Allan, who had just recounted his conversation with Mary Stringer.
The DNA results from the two sets of semen found on Kate Turner’s body came in later that morning as promised. One didn’t throw up any matches; but it had been confirmed that the other one belonged to Peter Harris.
‘Right. Let’s think this through. We’ve got that bastard Harris but that still leaves one sample of semen unaccounted for,’ stated Susan Dornan.
‘What if Banks....you know.’ Allan glanced at Dornan as he spoke.
‘We don’t even know Banks was anywhere near the body. We’ve got to find him, though. Absolute fucking must’ said Healy.
‘The other semen sample could be the mystery boyfriend’s since we know for sure it’s not Joe Turner’s.’ Allan was enjoying his input.
It had been confirmed at the same time Harris was put in the frame that Joe Turner was out the immediate picture for now. Dornan was somehow pleased about that. She felt Joe Turner was a bit of an arse but he’d been through a lot, and Healy could maintain his theory on murder still stood; Kate obviously knew Harris. But, in some ways, the results didn’t change a thing for Healy.
‘We don’t know for sure there is a boyfriend, Susan. But, yeah, let’s assume there is. It still doesn’t prove that Turner didn’t kill his wife. Jesus, this is a right fucking mess but, well done, Paul ’
‘OK. Paul, you concentrate on finding that weirdo, Banks. Matt you and I will pick up Harris. I’ll get the rest to keep trying on the hotel
thing although I think that’s a waste of time. And see when this is over, I want that hospital investigated. ’ Dornan said.
Paul Allan left the room with only one thought in his head; Matt Healy had just called him Paul.
Cause for celebration or what?
‘I’ve organised a couple of back-up Susan, but hopefully this will be same as last time. Unless his wife kicks off, of course; I bloody hope the kids are at school.’
When they reached his house, Peter Harris was not at home. His wife, Sally, opened the door. Dishevelled and strained looking. She also had bruising clearly visible around her left eye and she had obviously been crying.
‘Are you Mrs Harris?’ asked Dornan.
‘Yes.’
‘Is your husband at home? Are you OK?’
‘No, no. He’s not. Come in.’
Dornan and Healy were shown into the living room. It was neat and tidy; perhaps surprisingly so, given that two children also lived there. Sally Harris sensed their reactions.
‘Peter insists on the house being tidy.’
‘Really. Where is he at the moment?’
‘I don’t know. Honestly.’
‘Is there anything you want to tell us, Sally?’
Sally Harris slumped rather than sat down onto the couch. Susan Dornan sat down beside her. Healy sat on the edge of the coffee table.
‘I’m leaving him.’
‘Why, because he hits you?’
‘No…..because he killed that woman.’
‘What woman?’
‘Kate Turner.’
‘How do you know?’
‘On the night she died, he phoned me from a call box. Said he had a burst tyre somewhere out Lanark way. When he got in, he had dirt all over him and blood on his hands, and some on his T shirt. I asked what had happened. He said the jack was useless and had slipped a couple of times and caught his fingers; and that the dirt was from changing the tyre and wiping his hands and stuff.’
‘Did you believe him?’
‘No reason not to, at the time.’
‘When did you start to think something was wrong?’
‘Last night. I was cleaning in here and found an old copy of the Times down the back of the couch. When I read the story about the dead woman being from Spain, her name, I put two and two together.’
‘What did you do?’
‘I confronted him.’
‘What did he say?’
‘He laughed. Shouted at me. “Killed her! Why would I do that? I loved her!” God, how I hate him.’
‘What are you going to do?’
‘Collect the kids from school. Go down to my mother’s in England. Stay there till I pull my thoughts together.’
‘Write down the address and phone number, Sally. We’ll need to talk to you again.’
‘It won’t be the first time, you know.’
‘What won’t?’
‘That he’s killed someone.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘His first wife; Anne, He killed her. He told me. Some sort of row over the kids. I thought he was just trying to scare me. Not now.’
***
The owner of Mario’s Restaurant, not far from Boom Boom’s spot, was getting a bit hacked off. He complied every time with Council regulations about putting waste food out and, nearly every time, the next morning the refuse bags were open. Sometimes it was probably the foxes he saw quite regularly in the area, other times he knew it was the bloody tramp who was always hanging around. He had complained to the police but that had been a waste of time. This time, though, wasn’t going to be because the tramp was still there, sleeping beside the discarded food.
‘Sir, sir. Wake up please, sir,’ said Constable Toal as he shook the tramp.
The tramp came round. He was stinking but seemed sober enough. Normally Toal would have told him to shove off somewhere else but he remembered word was out that the murder squad guys were looking for a “no fixed abode”.
‘What’s your name, sir?’ Toal asked.
‘Professor Colin Banks at your service, Constable.’
Constable Toal radioed in and quickly received word to bring Banks in immediately. Gold Star for me, then.
***
Frame and Allan conducted the interview.
‘Where are you living these days, Colin?’ John Frame asked.
‘Everywhere my good man. No fixed abode, as they say.’
‘Lived out the Clyde Valley recently?’
‘Quite possibly, memory not all that it was I’m afraid. A virus I suspect.’
‘Booze I suspect.’
‘Yes. I like a small libation I admit; good for the heart; keeps out the cold.’
‘What’s your favourite tipple then, Colin?’
‘Anything I can afford, young man, even brake fluid if necessary.’
‘Jesus.’
‘It’s OK. I can stop anytime.’ Boom Boom burst into a coughing fit of laughter. ‘Get it? Chic Murray would appreciate that one, don’t you think?’ Boom Boom added with droll comic timing.
Frame suppressed a smile; Allan was too intense to even notice.
‘That was a nice knife we found in your pocket, Colin?’
‘Yes, fine workmanship.’
‘Where did you get it?’
‘Seek and ye shall find.’
‘Where?’
‘By a river, dammed if I can remember which one, though, old chap.’
‘Would that be the river next to the phone box you were in the other week? The time you found the dead girl and graciously phoned the police to let us know?’
‘Ah. Quite possibly.’
‘You don’t seem too bothered by these questions, Mr Banks, sorry Professor Colin Banks once of Ross Hall Hospital and various Undertakers of these parts.’
‘Ah.’
‘Ah. That all you have to say?’ It was Paul Allan who asked.
‘Long time ago, dear boy. Besides, nothing ever proved. I’ve moved on to another life now.’
‘Yes, you have, Colin. Problem is your old ways seemed to have gone with you.’
‘Ah.’
‘The name “Tunstall” mean anything to you, Colin?’
‘Handmaiden to the Greek goddess, Aphrodite?’
‘Eh?’
‘Only teasing. No, nothing.’
‘You kill the woman, Colin?’
‘Certainly not! I am a doctor. I have taken the Hippocratic oath, sir! I found the body, poor lass, phoned you lot and moved on. I have committed no crime.’
‘Wanking over a dead body, stealing a mobile phone and money, disturbing a crime scene, I’d say there’s a crime or two there, Colin.’
Frame was guessing but he was pretty sure.
‘You have no evidence I stole anything. As for the rest, my lawyer will challenge your assertions; that an actual crime was committed, in a court of law.’
Frame noticed he hadn’t denied his first point.
‘Lock him up, take DNA sample, get him overalls, send what passes for clothes to the lab.’
Frame and Allan were leaving the Interview Room, Banks called after them.
‘Officers, I’ll be entitled to three meals a day, I assume.’
Frame nodded.
‘Thank you,’ replied Professor Colin Boom Boom Banks.
Frame and Allan walked back towards the squad room not quite sure what to make of Colin Banks.
‘Well, Paul, you’ve got a dilemma.’
‘What’s that?’
‘Whether to charge our Professor friend with interfering with a crime scene…….or interfering with himself.’
***
Dornan and Healy arrived back from Harris’ house. Healy was busy arranging an arrest warrant for Harris. The phone went on Susan Dornan’s desk.
‘Dornan.’
‘Yes, hello, it’s Julie Connor.’
‘Sorry I .....’
‘From The Marriott Hotel.....Kate Turner’s friend.’
‘Oh yes. Hello,
Julie. Sorry. There’s a lot happening.’
‘I understand. It’s just that I think I should speak to you.’
‘OK, what about?’
‘Joe.’
‘Joe Turner? What about him?’
‘Kate was leaving him. She’d met someone.’
Susan Dornan reflected immediately on Healy’s conviction that Joe Turner might well be the killer. She waved him over. Julie Connor agreed to come into the station immediately, as being questioned in the hotel was not really an option. Julie Connor had a haunted look as she sat in the deliberately bleak Interview Room 2. She told Dornan and Healy that Kate had been in touch both before the fateful week-end, and that she had been part of Kate’s alibi should the shit hit the fan.
‘What shit might that have been?’ Dornan knew but sympathised with Julie’s awkwardness.
‘Kate had met someone. She was leaving Joe as soon as she could, but the kids were the issue.’
‘Who had she met?’
‘I don’t know. Honestly I don’t.’
‘Could it have been Peter Harris?’
Both Dornan and Healy could see the surprise in Julie Connor’s eyes.
‘No!....No way!’
‘You know him, then?’
‘Yeah, you could say that. It wasn’t him. That’s a definite.’
‘You seem awful sure of that.’
‘She would have said…..but no, believe me, it wasn’t him.’
‘Do you think the guy is from Glasgow or Spain or what?’
‘I don’t think Spain. Why meet him here if he is?’
‘Did she even mention a first name?’
‘No. Any time I asked, she just laughed.’
‘Was it Tunstall?’
‘I don’t know. Possibly. Why?’’
Dornan and Healy could tell Julie Connor wasn’t telling the whole story. She was fidgeting in her chair, twisting her hair around her fingers and looking generally agitated.
The Initial Blow Page 9