Cold Granite (27 page)

There was an in-depth exposeof Roadkil 's life - the schizophrenia, the two-year stay in Cornhil , the dead mother, the col ection of dead bodies. Mil er had even managed to get hold of some of the crowd that attacked Roadkil outside the primary school gates. The quotes were ful of bravado and righteous indignation. The police had treated them like criminals for attacking that sicko, when al the time there was a dead girl lying in that pile of filth!

Logan winced as he read how the police had Roadkil in custody, but DI Insch, recently seen strutting about on stage while children were being abducted, murdered and violated, had ordered his release. Against the advice of local police hero DS Logan 'Lazarus' McRae.

Logan groaned. Bloody Colin Mil er! Probably thought he was doing him a favour, making him look like the voice of reason, but Insch would blow a gasket. It would look as if Logan had gone to the Press and Journal with the story. As if he was stabbing the inspector in the back.

Peter Lumley's stepfather was waiting for him when he pushed through the front doors to Force Headquarters. The man looked as if he hadn't slept for a month and his breath would have made wal paper curdle: stale beer and whisky. He'd seen the papers. He knew they'd arrested someone.

Logan took him into an interview room and listened as he'd ranted and raved. Roadkil knew where his son was. The police had to make him talk! If they couldn't, he would! They had to find Peter!

Slowly Logan calmed him down, explained that the man they had in custody might not have anything to do with Peter going missing. That the police were doing everything they could to find his son. That he should go home and get some sleep. In the end it was fatigue that made him consent to a lift home in a patrol car.

By the time the working day had begun Logan was feeling terrible. There was a knot in his stomach, and not just the scar tissue. Half past eight and there was stil no sign of Insch.

There was a shit-storm brewing and Logan was going to be right in the middle of it.

The morning briefing came and went, Logan handing out the assignments, getting the teams together. One lot to go question every householder within a mile of the children's last known position, both pre-and post mortem. Had they seen this man - Roadkil - hanging around?

Another lot to go through the records for anything and everything relating to Bernard Duncan Philips. And last, by far the largest team, would get the nastiest job of al : digging through a ton of rotting animal corpses, looking for a severed penis. This wasn't a job for the council's sanitation department any more. This was a murder enquiry.

No one asked where DI Insch was, or said a single word about the front page spread in this morning's P&J. But Logan knew they'd al read it. There was an undercurrent of hostility in the room. They'd jumped to the conclusion Logan knew they would: that he'd gone to the press and screwed over Insch.

WPC Watson wouldn't even meet his eyes.

When the briefing was over and everyone had shuffled out, Logan tracked down DI Steel. She was sitting in her office, feet up on the desk, smoking a fag and drinking coffee, a copy of the morning paper spread over the clutter on her desk. She looked up as Logan knocked and entered, saluting him with her mug.

'Morning, Lazarus,' she said. 'You looking for your next victim?'

'I didn't do it! I know what it looks like, but I didn't do it!'

'Aye, aye. Shut the door and park your arse.' She pointed at the rickety chair on the other side of her desk.

Logan did as he was told, politely refusing the offer of a cigarette.

'If you did go to the press with this,' she poked the paper, 'you're either so fucking stupid you can't breathe unsupervised, or you've got some serious political ambitions. You ambitious, Mr Local Police Hero?'

'What?'

'I know you're not stupid, Lazarus,' she said, waving her fag in the air. 'Speaking to the press would always come back and bite you on the arse. But this could kil DI Insch's career.

With him out the way, and the press on your side, you're a shoe-in for his job. The rank and file wil hate you, but if you can live with that, you keep going up the tree. Next stop Chief Inspector.' She even gave him a salute.

'I swear I didn't speak to anyone! I wanted to let Roadkil go too; there was no evidence against him. I even gave him a lift home!'

'So how come this reporter's polishing your arse with one hand and spanking Insch with the other?'

'I...I don't know.' Liar. 'He thinks we're friends. I've only spoken to him half a dozen times. And DI Insch cleared every word.' Big fat liar. 'I don't think he likes the inspector.' At least that bit was true.

'I can relate to that. Lots of people don't like Inschy. Me? I like him. He's big. You see an arse like that: you've got something to sink your teeth into.'

Logan tried not to form a mental picture.

DI Steel took a deep drag on her cigarette, letting the smoke hiss out through a happy smile. 'You spoken to him yet?'

'What, DI Insch?' Logan hung his head. 'No. Not yet.'

'Hmm...Wel he was in early. I saw his four-wheel-drive girl-mobile in the car park this morning. Probably hatching a plot with the upper brass: getting you transferred to the Gorbals.'

She sat and smiled and for the life of him Logan couldn't tel if she was joking.

'I was hoping that maybe you could speak to him--'

The smile turned into a laugh.

'Want me to ask him if he fancies you?'

Logan could feel the colour running up his neck to his cheeks. He knew what DI Steel was like. Had he actual y come in here expecting her to be sympathetic and supportive? Maybe he real y was too stupid to breathe unsupervised. 'I'm sorry,' he said, picking himself out of his seat. 'I should get back to work.'

She stopped him only when the door was swinging closed. 'He's going to be fucking pissed off. Maybe not at you, maybe at this Mil er bloke, but he's going to be pissed off. Be prepared to be shouted at. And if he won't listen to you, maybe have to think omelettes and eggs. Just because you didn't start this doesn't mean you can't play it out.'

Logan stopped. 'Play it out?'

'Ambition, Mr Hero. Like it or not you could stil end up sitting in his seat. You don't have to like the way it came about, but you might make DI because of this.' She lit another cigarette from the smouldering remains of the last one, before flipping the dogend into her coffee. It gave a short hiss as she winked at him. 'Think about it.'

Logan did. Al the way down to his mini incident room. The WPC was back on the phone, taking names and statements. With Roadkil 's arrest al over the papers and the television news, everyone and their maiden aunt was coming forward with information. Murdered kiddie, officer? No problem: I saw her getting into a Corporation dustcart. Bold as brass with this bloke from the papers...

The health authorities had started responding to his request for information on little girls with TB in the last four years as wel . The list of possibles was smal , but it would get bigger as the day wore on.

Logan scanned the names, most of which had already been scored out by his WPC. They weren't interested in any child that wouldn't be between three and a half and five by now.

They'd know who she was by the end of the day.

He was expecting the cal , but it stil made his innards clench: report to the superintendent's office. Time to get his arse chewed out for something he didn't do. Other than lie to Colin Mil er. And DI Insch.

'I'm just going out for a walk,' he told the WPC on the phones. 'I may be some time.'

The super's office was like a furnace. Logan stood to attention in front of the wide oak desk with both hands clasped behind his back. DI Insch was sitting in a mock-leather, mock-comfortable visitor's chair. He didn't look at Logan as he entered and took up his position. But Inspector Napier, from Professional Standards, stared at him as if he was a science experiment gone wrong.

Behind the desk sat a serious-looking man with a bul et head and not a lot of hair. He was wearing his dress uniform. All buttoned up. Not a good sign.

'Sergeant McRae.' The voice was larger than the man, fil ing the room with portent. 'You know why you're here.' It wasn't a question; there was a copy of that morning's Press and Journal on the desk. Neatly lined up with the blotter and the keyboard.

'Yes, sir.'

'Do you have anything to say?'

They were going to fire him. Six days back on the job and they were going to throw him out on his scarred backside. He should have kept his head down and stayed off on the sick.

Goodbye pension. 'Yes, sir. I want it known that DI Insch has always had my complete support. I didn't give this story to Colin Mil er and I didn't tel anyone that I disagreed with DI Insch's decision to release Road...Mr Philips. Because it was the right decision, at the time.'

The superintendent settled back in his chair, fingers steepled in front of his round face.

'You have been speaking to Mil er though, haven't you, Sergeant?'

'Yes, sir. He cal ed me at half-six this morning wanting details of Mr Philips's arrest.'

DI Insch scrunched in his seat. 'How the hel did he know we'd arrested Roadkil ? It wasn't public bloody knowledge! I'l tel you this--'

The superintendent held up his hand and Insch fel silent. 'When I chal enged him he said it was his job to know,' said Logan, fal ing into policeman-giving-evidence mode. 'This isn't the first time he's had knowledge he shouldn't have. He knew when we found David Reid's body. He knew the kil er had mutilated and violated the corpse. He knew the girl's body we found was decomposed. He has someone on the inside.'

On the other side of the desk an eyebrow was raised, but not a word was spoken. The DI-Insch-patented-interview-technique. Only Logan wasn't in any mood to play.

'And it's not me! There's no way I would tel a reporter I disagreed with my superior's decision to release a suspect! Mil er wants a friend in here and he thinks he can get that if he

"helps" me. This is al about sel ing papers!'

The superintendent let the silence stretch.

'If you want my resignation, sir--'

'This isn't a disciplinary hearing, Sergeant. If it was you'd have a federation representative with you.' He paused and glanced at Insch and Napier before turning back to Logan. 'You can wait in the reception area outside while we discuss this matter further. We'l cal you back when we have reached our decision.'

Someone had poured freezing-cold concrete into Logan's innards. 'Yes, sir.' He marched out of the room, shoulders back, head up, and closed the door behind him. They were going to fire him. That or transfer him out of Aberdeen. Find some crappy backwater in Teuchter-land and make him serve out his days pounding the beat, or worse: school-liaison work.

Final y he was summoned back into the room by the hook-nosed, ginger-haired inspector from Professional Standards. Logan stood to attention in front of the super's desk and waited for the axe to fal .

'Sergeant,' said the superintendent, picking up the newspaper off his desk, folding it in half and dropping it neatly into the bin. 'You wil be pleased to hear that we believe you.'

Logan couldn't help noticing the sour expression on Inspector Napier's face. Not everyone appeared to agree with the verdict.

The superintendent settled back in his seat and examined Logan. 'DI Insch tel s me you're a good officer. And so does DI Steel. Not someone who would go to the media with this kind of thing. I have respect for my senior officers. If they tel me you're not a...' He paused and offered a practised smile. 'If they tel me you wouldn't go to the papers without authorization, I'm prepared to believe them. However...'

Logan straightened his back and waited for a transfer out to the sticks.

'However, we can't let something like this go unanswered. I can tel the world we're standing behind DI Insch one hundred percent. Which we are. But that's not going to make this al go away. These stories: the pantomime, releasing Philips less than a day before a dead girl is discovered at his home...' He raised a hand before DI Insch could do more than open his mouth.

'I am not, personal y, of the opinion that the inspector has done anything wrong. But these stories are highly damaging to the Force's reputation. Every second edition in the country has got some rehashed version of Mil er's story. The Sun, Daily Mail, Mirror, Independent, Guardian, Scotsman: hel , even The Times! Tel ing the world that Grampian Police are incompetent idiots.'

He shifted uncomfortably in his chair and straightened out his uniform. 'Lothian and Borders have been on the phone to the Chief Constable again. They say they have resources experienced in this kind of investigation. That they would welcome the opportunity to "assist" us.' He scowled. 'We have to be seen to be doing something. The public are baying for blood; but I am not prepared to give them DI Insch.' He took a deep breath. 'There is one other approach we can take. And that's to engage this Colin Mil er. He seems to have developed a rapport with you, Sergeant. I want you to speak to him. Get him back on board.'

Logan risked a look at DI Insch. His face was like thunder. Napier looked as if his head was about to explode.

'Sir?'

'If this trouble with the press continues, if the bad publicity keeps coming, we wil have no alternative: DI Insch wil be suspended on ful pay, pending an examination of his conduct.

We wil be forced to hand the child murder investigations over to Lothian and Borders Police.'

'But...but, sir: that's not right!' Logan's eyes darted between the superintendent and the inspector. 'DI Insch is the best person for this job! This isn't his fault!'

The man behind the desk nodded his head and smiled at DI Insch. 'You were right.

Loyalty. Let's make sure it doesn't come to that then, Sergeant. I want this leak found.

Whoever's been feeding Mil er information, I want it stopped.'

Insch growled. 'Oh don't you worry, sir. When I find the guilty party I wil make sure they never speak to anyone ever again.'

Napier stiffened in his seat. 'Just make sure you stay within the rules, Inspector,' he said, clearly annoyed that Insch had usurped his responsibility for finding the mole. 'I want a formal disciplinary hearing and a dismissal from the force. No comeback. No shortcuts. Understood?'