by Tana Collins
‘I thought you were allowed to be a member of the BNP if you were in the armed forces,’ said Brown.
‘My understanding is that, membership, whilst serving Queen and Country, is still legitimate, unless service personnel are actively recruiting. It looks as if Roberts certainly fell into the latter category.’
‘What happened to all the BNP propaganda in Roberts’ room, sir?’ asked Fletcher.
‘I’ve spoken to the RAF,’ said Bingham. ‘There’ll be an internal investigation. Seems Dave Roberts, whilst unpopular on a lot of fronts, still had his friends at the base. It’s likely one of his mates got rid of it for him, along with the poster, after he went missing. This is a mess for the RAF to clear up, but I wouldn’t want to be in the shoes of the young man or woman who took those magazines. They’ll be in a hell of a lot of trouble. The RAF police are taking this very seriously.’
‘I feel sorry for Dave Roberts’ parents,’ said Fletcher. ‘It will also probably open an investigation into the disappearance of that black apprentice at the garage where he worked.’
‘Rest assured, if that man cannot be found, there’ll be huge public pressure put upon the South Wales Police to open an investigation into his disappearance.’
‘I blame Stephen Lawrence for all this,’ remarked Harris.
‘You can’t blame somebody who got murdered by racist thugs. If you want to blame anyone, blame the murderers and the incompetence of the Met,’ retorted Fletcher.
‘Well, all this crap about institutional racism,’ Harris threw back. ‘And this drive that’s been launched to recruit more ethnic minorities on to the Scottish Police Force. It’s pish. I mean, how many black and Asian faces do you see in some parts of Scotland?’
‘Ethnic minorities make up four per cent of the Scottish population,’ said Fletcher, ‘however they only make up one per cent of the police up here. I think having a drive to recruit more is reasonable.’
Harris snorted. ‘All I can say is, thankfully, we already have our ethnic minority so we dinnae need to take anyone else on,’ said Harris.
‘Do we?’ said Bingham looking confused.
‘Aye, we do. We’ve got Andie. She’s our ethnic minority on account of the fact that she’s English.’
Fletcher gave Harris the finger.
‘Right, that’s enough,’ said Bingham. ‘Settle down. As I said, good job well done. That’s it. Thank you for your time.’ The room started to clear. ‘Carruthers, can I see you in my office please? What I’ve got to say won’t take long.’
Carruthers looked up, his heart sinking. He caught Fletcher’s sympathetic eye. He glanced around the room and noticed Harris was smirking. He wanted to follow Fletcher’s lead and give Harris the finger too.
Carruthers followed Bingham out of the room and into his office.
‘Right, close the door.’
Carruthers did as he was bid.
‘Take a seat.’
Carruthers looked at the proffered brown leather chair but continued to stand. He waited for Bingham to speak.
‘Stand if you wish.’ Bingham was silent as he scrutinised Carruthers.
Carruthers wondered if he was looking as careworn as he felt. He tried to hide the wariness and resentment he carried, but he could see Bingham looking at his swollen and partially closed left eye. Bingham let out an audible sigh.
‘You and Fletcher did a good job with certain aspects of the investigation.’ He paused and Carruthers could see that Bingham was deliberating how to continue. Carruthers’ face was immobile but his heart was thudding. Bingham went on to speak his mind in his characteristically blunt fashion.
‘However, you don’t listen to orders. And when you do, you choose to ignore them anyway.’ Bingham looked Carruthers in the eye. ‘Then there’s the matter of the fight between you and Alistair. Bad enough if it had happened outside the station. But here? Right under my nose? Where junior officers saw and have been talking about the incident. I can’t let it go. I hope you understand that.’
Carruthers nodded.
‘You will take an extended period of leave while I make a decision about your future.’
Carruthers made to speak but Bingham held his hand up.
‘We’ll discuss it when you get back. However, I should tell you that if you do remain at this station, it won’t be as a DCI. You’ll be lucky to remain as inspector at all,’ Bingham sighed. ‘Dismissed.’
***
Carruthers walked out of Bingham’ office. He closed the door carefully behind him, momentarily standing with his back to it allowing his head to rest against its coolness. He remained like that for a few seconds, then walked away back to his office.
‘How did it go with Bingham?’ asked Fletcher, putting her head round his door.
Carruthers couldn’t bring himself to make eye contact with Fletcher. ‘He’s ordered me to take an extended period of leave in which time he’s going to consider my future.’ He didn’t tell her about the demotion: that wasn’t official yet.
‘I’m sorry. That’s tough. Do you want me to talk to him?’
Carruthers looked up fondly at Fletcher, knowing she couldn’t do anything to help.
‘No, it’s OK.’
Fletcher was frowning. ‘How long will you be off?’
‘I don’t know. The details haven’t been discussed yet.’ He realised he hadn’t asked Bingham. He swallowed down a lump that felt the size of a golf ball. ‘At least I can take that camping trip I was planning on. You look as if you want to ask me something?’
‘Whilst you’re off, can we keep in touch?’
‘Of course.’
Carruthers saw a look of relief pass over her face.
‘There’s something else,’ she said. ‘About the case. Do you think Holdaway had a right to get his book published?’
‘That came out of left field, Andie.’
‘I know. But, well, Bingham has just been talking about freedom of the press. I just wondered what you thought.’
‘Of course he had a right to get it published. I guess the problem is he didn’t think about the consequences.’
As he said it he thought about the satirical cartoonists over in France who had poked fun at Islam. Fully aware of the dangers, they had been determined to exercise their right to freedom of expression. And they paid the ultimate price.
‘No, but, well, he wasn’t to know that the brother of the girl he shot would have actually recognised his photograph on the back of the book forty years later and gone after him.’ However, thought Carruthers, how long would Holdaway have kept his anonymity for anyway? Would he have eventually been charged with attempted murder for the shooting of Holdaway’s sister? He didn’t say any of this. Instead he said, ‘I wonder if Holdaway would have committed suicide further down the line anyway? I guess we’ll never know.’
‘Has it been confirmed, Jim? Did Nicholas Holdaway commit suicide?’
‘Mackie’s pretty convinced. The injuries had all the hallmarks of suicide.’
‘You wonder how the blokes who served in Northern Ireland and places like the Falklands actually coped afterwards.’
‘Well, there was certainly less help for them than there is nowadays. At least post-traumatic stress disorder is now a recognised mental health problem.’
‘I’m not sure that they’re getting the help that they need,’ said Fletcher. ‘You and I both know that there’s still a disproportionate number of service personnel who have mental health problems, end up homeless living on Britain’s streets. I think the soldiers on that peace march were just as much victims as the people they shot. After all, they were young, scared, just following orders. It must be a terrible thing to have to live with afterwards.’
Carruthers thought the soldiers, like the marchers, would have been made up of a cross-section of society. There would have been good and bad people amongst them. ‘The real victims were the people shot on the march and their families,’ said Carruthers, remembering the details he’d r
ead. He wondered how long it would be until he got the image of the man gently taking the shoes off the feet of his dead friend out of his head.
‘What about Siobhan Mathews? Will she stay in Castletown?’
‘Siobhan Mathews?’ said Carruthers. ‘I don’t know. I’m not sure she’ll be able to continue her studies. She may well have to take some time out. If she does leave Castletown, will she ever want to come back?’ Carruthers thought if it was him he’d probably want a fresh start somewhere else. He thought about what Siobhan had said regarding Rhys Evans looking for his birth mother. A birth mother he would now never find, who would never know the baby she gave away. ‘I found the folder by the way. At the farm. Evans had enough ammunition in it to bring down both Roberts and Williams. He’d also found his birth mother. I guess that’s what he was on his way to tell Siobhan.’
‘Oh my God, that’s so sad. Are you going to tell Siobhan?’
‘I think she’d like to know.’
‘You never know what’s going to happen in the future, boss.’
‘No, you don’t. Maybe that’s a good thing. And talking about the future, Andie,’ he said, ‘tonight I want you to go home and talk to Mark about the pregnancy. You need to start making plans. Who’s going to look after the baby when you’re at work, for example?’
‘Mark’s family live close,’ she said. ‘I get on well with them.’ She sighed. ‘But you’re right. We do need a proper chat.’
‘That’s a good start.’
But despite his positive words he remembered Mark’s strange reaction to Fletcher being taken to hospital and a knot of anxiety gripped him. ‘What about your own parents?’
‘Telling them is going to be more difficult. They’re old fashioned. They also live too far away to be of much help.’ She looked across at him. ‘You look as if you need a break,’ she said. ‘Especially after this business with McGhee. I hope you enjoy your time off. What are you going to do whilst you’re off?’
‘When I’m not exercising and drinking beer you mean? Hopefully lots of reading.’ And brooding. He’d worked hard to become a DCI. Couldn’t believe he’d thrown it away. ‘Actually, that reminds me. Have you seen that bomb disposal thriller that’s been kicking around the station, The Tick Tock Man? Thought I might take it away with me, along with a couple of Bond books.’
‘Bloody hell. Thought you’d have had more than enough of explosives and mayhem, Jim. Why don’t you stick to fishing and hill walking?’
Carruthers looked over at Fletcher and smiled.
THE END
Also, now available in the Inspector Jim Jim Carruthers series
Care to Die
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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
The encouragement and support I’ve had from family, friends and fellow crime writers has been huge, in particular, Sarah Ward and Alison Baillie who were my first readers. I would also like to thank Allan Guthrie who was very generous with his time.
Jacky Collins, Barry Forshaw, Kim Miller, Mike Linane and Rosy Barnes deserve a special mention for all their help and friendship in all things crime and writing.
Peter Robinson for his writing courses and DCI Banks series. It was the reading of ‘In a Dry Summer,’ that made me fall in love with crime fiction.
Tony Fyler and my wonderful and very talented former Editor, Gail Williams from Jefferson Franklin Editing Agency.
Avery Mathers, Kevin Blackley and Lester Knibb for police procedure although Avery was also a huge help in the writing department. Chris Wilson for advice on RAF procedure. Stewart Sutherland for obscure facts about Fife.
All at Bloodhound Books especially Betsy Reavley, Alexina Golding and Clare Law.
I am indebted to you all.
And finally, but most importantly, Ian Brown for encouraging me to board the flight that would take me to the University of Tallinn to study under Peter Robinson in the summer of 2011 at a time when my writing was faltering.
I would like to dedicate this novel to Brian McGrath, a thoroughly decent guy, who gave me huge encouragement to write this book. He sadly passed away before the novel was completed.
This is a work of fiction but based on certain real events. Those who know the East Neuk of Fife will recognise the fictional town of Castletown as being loosely modelled on St Andrews but any characters in the book are products of the author’s imagination. Although this is a police procedural it is still a work of fiction and I hope I can be forgiven if I have stretched things a wee bit to suit the storyline. Any mistakes are my own.