‘Maybe what?’ I said.
‘Maybe I saw something. I’m not sure.’
‘Tell me. Please,’ I said.
‘Look, I don’t know, all right. But there was this one afternoon I was putting away some things, cleaning things and there’s this area, a sort of storage area, utility room sort of thing. Anyway, I got a fright when I opened the door, because I wasn’t expecting to see anyone, but aye, this priest was there and, well, he was there with one of the boys.’
‘What was he doing with the boy?’ I asked.
‘I don’t know. Not really. The boy was upset. He ran off when he saw me.’
‘Mr Bradley. If you know more than that, you need to tell me.’
‘I swear. I mean, the priest was sort of doing himself up I suppose, but I didn’t see anything, not really.’
‘You think the priest was abusing that boy?’
‘I don’t know.’
I folded my arms and exhaled in frustration. ‘I think you do know, Mr Bradley. I think you know more than you’re saying. I think this is exactly why you went for legal advice. Look, right now all I want to do is stop anyone else from getting hurt. I’ll ask one more time. Did you see this boy being assaulted by Father Livingston?’
There was a pause. The old man looked at me, to his son and then out of the window again.
‘Dad …’
‘Maybe. Maybe that’s what I saw, all right. I don’t know for sure, but maybe.’
I wasn’t going to get any more than that out of him. I changed the question. ‘Do you know which boy it was? Do you know his name?’
He slowly lit another cigarette, his hands shaking. ‘Aye,’ he said after his first draw. ‘I think so. Small for his age he was. Other kids called him Micky Halfpint, that’s how I remember, see, it was quite funny. His real name was Halfpenny.’
For a moment, I thought she’d taken the news well. She sat in the passenger seat, nodding as I tried my best to explain what I’d been up to and why. I must have apologised a dozen times through the telling. From trawling through her personal notes to the questions in Dumbarton and Dunbar, to here in Portobello, she’d listened and not uttered a word. Then she did.
‘Tell me this is some kind of sick fucking joke.’
‘Aly, I’m sorry. I felt like I had no choice.’
‘At any point in that sequence you could have spoken to me. And, you’re just dropping this on me? Jesus fucking Christ. I feel fucking dizzy, Don. You’ve just ambushed me with this fucking betrayal … Again. I don’t know what the fuck to say. Oh wait, yes I do, what the fuck are we doing in Portobello?’ I remembered the look on her face as she rained punches in through the window of the Subaru. This was similar and I was nervous.
‘Aly, I wanted to say, but I didn’t even know what I had and I’m still not certain of anything. But, that house there,’ I said, nodding at my side window at the little terraced house in Portobello’s Great Cannon Bank, ‘is the registered address of a Michael Halfpenny. The only Michael Halfpenny in the central belt, according to Voter’s Roll.’
By the time I’d got home after speaking to Mr Bradley, it was late. I’d run the information through my head over and over on that drive back and I knew it was time to speak to Alyson, that I’d taken things as far as I could without doing some real damage, if I hadn’t done so already. She wasn’t home so I stayed up, nervously listening for the front door. But by 1 a.m., I’d gone to bed, exhausted from the weight of it all.
This morning she’d greeted me with a cup of tea and smile, which I’d returned but she could see in my face that something was wrong. She’d assumed I’d broken up with Marcella, or that I’d had a fight with my father, and when I’d asked her if she could spare a few hours for a drive and a chat, she’d become particularly concerned. I’d waited until we were reaching the outskirts of town before I’d gotten into it, perhaps because in my head it meant she was less likely to pull the handbrake and walk off, never to speak to me again.
‘Uh-huh. So, what? You want to go and arrest this guy? Don, there are fucking procedures and—’
‘I know, Aly. Of course I know, but I just wanted to be sure that we have something. I want to hand this over to you so you can do it right, but I had to see for myself, at least this far. Look, I thought we’d knock on his door, have a bit of a chat, get a feel of him. There’s no direct evidence stopping us treating him as a potential witness at this time. Aly, I need you to tell me if I’m right, then I’m out, I swear, and I will never do anything like this to you again. I promise.’
She laughed, but not because she was in the slightest part amused. ‘You’ve made promises like this in the past and still you keep leaving me in deep shit, Don.’ She sat silent for a moment, her head shaking slowly. She was considering this. Though her face was flushed with anger, she was about to agree, I could see it.
I wrung the steering wheel in my hands nervously.
‘Fuck sake, Don. I don’t think you quite appreciate what you’ve done, and how much trouble you’ve probably landed us in, but … Right,’ she said, turning to meet my eye. ‘I’m doing the talking. If I want your input I’ll ask, otherwise you stay in the background and try not to ruin my fucking career. Understand?’
‘Thanks, Aly.’
She threw open her door and was on her phone when I joined her in the street.
She was calling Control, giving her number and location. I hadn’t even thought about that, hadn’t brought a radio. The car was my own and I stood in my jeans. From my wallet I fished out my warrant card and pulled a lanyard from the glove box. Between us, we just about could pass for police.
Alyson hung up and said, ‘Remember—’
‘You’re doing all the talking. Got it.’
As we walked towards the front door, my stomach knotted. Alyson didn’t seem to notice me grip my abdomen. I tried to keep up, but another burst of pain shot into my gut.
She was at the door.
‘Aly.’
She knocked at the glass panel, four raps of a knuckle.
‘Aly, wait!’
She rang the bell.
My stomach pitched and I wretched once, a dry surge that pained my throat.
‘Alyson, don’t,’ I said and this time she heard me.
‘What the hell’s wrong with you?’
‘Something’s wrong. Just stop.’
‘This was your fucking idea,’ she said, she was clasping a hand to the glass, trying to see inside. She reached for the handle.
‘DON’T!’ I yelled and fell to my knees. A blaze of white light filled my eyes as the pain became too much. When I managed to catch my breath and see once more, she was standing over me, her hand on my shoulder.
‘Are you all right? What’s happened?’
Now that she was away from the door, the pain subsided. I was sweating from every pore in my body.
‘I think something is really wrong here. Just don’t try to open that door.’
‘I don’t get it, Don. Like I said, this was your idea. What’s wrong with you? Get up.’
‘Here,’ I said and held out my hand.
She took it and pushed a hand under my arm and I was back on my feet. There was a single window to the right of the door. I wiped my hands down the legs of my jeans and approached the glass. It was a kitchen, tidy. The door to the hall was open. ‘What does that look like to you?’ I said and let Alyson peer in.
‘Where?’
‘In the hall. What’s that blue thing?’
‘Not sure. Looks like a sort of barrel or something. Hold on.’
She returned to the door.
‘Alyson, don’t.’
‘Relax. I’m just looking.’ She lifted the letterbox and quickly drew her face away. ‘Jesus,’ she said.
‘What?’
‘The smell. It stinks of petrol or something.’ She returned her face to the slot. ‘Fucking hell,’ she said and lowered the hinge gently and stepped away, pushing her hand into my chest and urging me a
way from the door too.
‘What is it?’
‘Wires. There’s wires sticking out of that blue barrel. Fuck, we need to evacuate the entire … Shit, I’ve got to call this in. Her eyes searched the pavement as if she’d dropped something. ‘Don, you need to get out of here. I can’t explain to my boss why you’re here. I’ll think of some way to connect the dots, but as soon as I make this call this place will be swarming and you can’t be here.’
I wanted to protest, but she was right. I ran to the car and got the engine running. As I turned the car away from the house I watched her in the mirror, standing in the street, one hand on her head, the other with the phone to her ear.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Concussion
I drove straight home and turned on the news, expecting a breaking story, but there was nothing yet. I watched for an hour, waiting for the red banner scrolling at the bottom of the screen to turn yellow, but by the time I had to leave for work, nothing had appeared.
I checked my phone as I arrived at the station, again after I got changed and once more before I put it away prior to muster. Nothing.
With Vikram off on annual leave, I briefed Mandy and Morgan, distracted the whole time, Mandy pointing out to me that I’d repeated something. I suggested they work together so I could keep an eye on developments.
‘Actually Sarge, Morgan has someone coming in for interview and I’ve had no involvement in this case,’ she said.
‘Who’s coming in?’
‘Colander McStay. Me and Vikram went to his place to arrest him last week, but he was nowhere to be seen. We later got a call from his lawyer that he would make himself available today. I’m sorry, Sarge, I’d have waited until Vikram’s back, but we didn’t really have any say,’ said Morgan.
‘You had the evidence to arrest?’ I said.
‘Aye. We had a witness successfully pick him out at VIPER. Maybe not quite enough to charge at this stage, but enough to get him here.’
‘But he’s coming with his brief?’
‘His what?’
‘His lawyer,’ Mandy explained.
‘Aye. They’re due any minute actually.’
‘OK. Mandy, I’ll handle this with Morgan. I suspect it won’t take long. If he’s got his lawyer with him, you can look forward to half an hour of “no comment” and we’ll have to give it up.’
I told Morgan to chap my door when Colander arrived, meanwhile I stared at my phone and the news app. Still nothing. Maybe I was wrong, maybe there was some innocent explanation. But petrol smell, barrel and wires?
It took all of two minutes before the knock came. I sighed and threw the phone into my drawer.
‘The time is fourteen-twenty on Friday the twenty-eighth of August. I am Police Sergeant Donald Colyear of Police Scotland. We are in interview room one of Drylaw Police Station in Edinburgh. I will ask the others present to identify themselves.’
‘Eh, Constable Morgan Finney.’
I nodded my head at the huge man sitting across the table from me, somehow even more menacing in a shirt and tie. ‘Colin Christopher McStay,’ he said enunciating every syllable with spite.
‘I am Sarah Halliday QC, representing Mr McStay from Actioners Solicitors.’
Fucking hell, I thought. A QC? We should just stop the tape now, let him go before she finds a way to turn this into a grievance against us.
‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘And thank you for coming in today to see us, Mr McStay.’
‘Not like I had much choice …’ he began, but then there was a hand on his forearm from the lawyer. He sat back in his chair and folded his arms across his massive chest. Sitting across from him, I was in danger of losing an eye from the shirt buttons straining to contain him.
I looked at Morgan, raised my eyebrows in a gesture of are you ready? He looked nervous, but he cleared his throat and sifted through the folder in front of him.
‘We’re investigating a series of incidents involving bogus workmen. A number of crimes have been committed by what we believe to be a single team of individuals. These crimes include but are not limited to fraud, theft and threats, which have seen several elderly members of the community fleeced out of large sums of money they can scarcely afford to lose. Mr McStay, it is our belief that not only are you involved in these crimes, but you are, in fact, the organising force behind the criminal set-up.’
‘If you have a question for my client, constable, now would be the time to ask it. Diatribes such as this waste your time and mine.’ Halliday already looked bored.
Morgan looked at me. I nodded, urging him to continue. His cheeks were beginning to flush. I’d have taken over, but I didn’t have time to acquaint myself with the case. He was going to have to do this.
Again, he cleared his throat. ‘Isn’t it the case that you are the leader of an organisation involved in a fraudulent landscaping enterprise designed to con old men and women out of their savings, Mr McStay?’
The man across from him smirked. He rocked back on his chair a little. ‘No, comment,’ he said, still enunciating crisply and aggressively, the final ‘t’ almost a spit.
‘I’ve personally spoken to several Edinburgh residents who describe you as being present when they’ve been forced to hand over exorbitant amounts of cash for substandard work, at times requesting ten times the amount agreed at the outset for small jobs.’
‘No, comment.’
‘I think you see a pattern arising here, gentlemen. Shall we just come to an understanding that my client has been advised to say nothing other than to confirm his particulars, as is his only requirement under law in these circumstances. To continue this interview would be an exercise in futility,’ Halliday said. She closed over her own folder, perhaps hoping she could bully the lad into stopping.
‘I’m going to show you a series of stills from CCTV footage and I’d like you to comment on each one as I present them,’ Morgan continued, belligerently. This was going nowhere, but I was proud of him.
The better part of an hour passed and there didn’t really seem to be any strategy to Morgan’s interview other than to piss off the bear at the other side of the table, and in that endeavour, he was doing a great job. The ‘no comments’ were coming with a bored and frustrated tone. McStay even diverted from script a few times with a sarcastic comment, but that hand from Halliday was always there to pull him back in line. I drifted off a few times and wished I could look at my phone, turn on a radio, perhaps even risk calling Alyson. What if something happened and she got hurt? It would be my fault. How could I live with that? Even if she didn’t, how does she explain how she came to be there?
‘I really am going to have to insist that we bring this interview to a close, gentlemen. We’re repeating a sequence now that is borderline badgering and I’m sure you know the regulations in regard to interview protocol. Unless you have something novel to ask, I think we’re done.’
Halliday was on her feet. She had a good point. We were in danger of stepping over a line.
Morgan continued, relentless, and this time I was paying full attention. ‘You can leave, Mr McStay. I can even give you a lift home, because that’s where we’re going next.’
This comment had both me and the lawyer sitting forward in our chairs.
‘Fuck you talking about?’ McStay barked. The guiding hand returned, but he slid his arm out from under it.
‘Your wife, Colin. I’ll be bringing her in for questioning too.’
‘You even try to speak to my wife and I’ll fucking …’ Halliday’s gentle tap had become a slap.
‘You’ll what, Colin? Frogmarch me to a cashpoint and steal my pension? Or is it only frail, old people you target for that? Real hardman.’
I almost laughed. I couldn’t quite believe what was coming out of Morgan’s mouth. Part of me wanted to reign him in, but the greater portion just had to see where this went.
‘If this was out in the street and you weren’t hiding behind that uniform, I’d snap you in two,
ya skinny little prick.’
‘For the sake of the tape, Mr McStay is referring to Constable Finney,’ I said. There must have been a smile on my face.
‘There’s not a single vehicle registered under your name, Colin. I found that strange. It certainly doesn’t fit with the idea of you running a bogus landscape business, after all – such an outfit would require vans, wouldn’t it, Colin?’ This repeated use of his Christian name was wearing on the brute like sandpaper. ‘So, I went ahead and had a good look at your wife. In fact, a bunch of us had a good old look at your wife.’
Jesus, I thought, where did this kid find the balls?
‘Eight vehicles registered to an A and M Landscaping and the name on the insurance document to cover the fleet was? Can you guess?’
‘You fucking leave her out of this, or I swear to—Would you fucking quit that!’ he snarled, snapping his arm away and narrowly missing Halliday’s face.
‘Gladly, Colin. We both know she’s nothing to do with this, but the paperwork says otherwise. Unless you man up, I’m going to go to your house, arrest your wife, pursue a charge relating to organised crime and thereafter take action under the Proceeds of Crime Act to confiscate every vehicle, every piece of machinery, and everything of value in that big house of yours.’
I had no words. And if I wasn’t sufficiently stunned, I watched and listened over the following twenty minutes as this huge man climbed down off of his ego and accepted several charges from a boy half his age and weight while his expensive lawyer sat and shook her head. Well done, Morgan, I thought as I left him processing Colander at the charge bar. I’d tell him as much at some point, but there were more important things right now.
I half ran to my office, but before I got there, a shout of ‘Sarge!’ sounded from the canteen as I passed. I grunted and considered ignoring it, but dipped my head around the corner.
‘Have you seen this?’ said Mandy, pointing at the television. And there it was, the house in Portobello just as I’d been looking at it a few hours ago except from a distance, a camera zoomed in. As it pulled back, a line of cars, tape and uniforms restricted anyone from getting close.
Into the Dark Page 24