Quintin Jardine - Hour Of Darkness

‘So I gather. Just one more thing,’ she added. ‘Do you know what Hastie McGrew was actually jailed for? All I know is that it was a couple of murders, but no more. What was it about?’

‘I know up to a point. He pleaded guilty so there was no trial, and no evidence led, only statements. The Crown said that he’d killed the two men because he believed they’d been involved in the rape of a family member. Now Hastie only had the one female family member, Alafair, his sister. I assume it was her, but if you needed to know for sure, you might have trouble. The lead detective in the case was Alison Higgins and she’s dead now, so that line’s closed off.

‘Bob Skinner’s the only one left who could tell you,’ he added, ‘but don’t hold your breath. I asked him myself once, and, even though he used to call me “sir”, he refused point-blank to tell me.’

‘I won’t be pushing him,’ Karen chuckled, ‘but I don’t see that it’s relevant, just curiosity in my part. Thanks again. I’ll get on with tracing the boy.’

She hung up and was about to dial Mary Chambers’ home number, when Jackie Wright held up a hand to stop her.

‘This just in,’ she exclaimed, ‘as they say on Sky News. I’ve had a call from Anna Jacobowski. They’re still working flat out on those DNA traces and they’ve come up with a hot one. They can place somebody new in Bella Watson’s flat, but only in the living room: Hastie McGrew.’

‘Say that again?’

The DC did as ordered. ‘Is that significant?’ she asked.

‘Hugely, if the history between the Holmes and Watson families teaches us anything at all. But I have another priority.’

She made her call to Chambers, and reported Partridge’s call. The chief superintendent understood its meaning at once. ‘If the boy knows that McGrew had his father killed. . Karen,’ she continued, ‘could he know that Hastie’s in a nursing home?’

‘He works for him; indeed recently he’s worked with him, with Hastie having been about the place before he fell ill. If there’s been talk on the shop floor, yes, he could know.’

‘Let’s assume he does. Look, I’m at my partner’s place just now; I think you know where that is. Pick me up from there. While you’re on your way, I’ll find out where McGrew’s being looked after, then call ahead to say he’s to have no visitors. I might be overreacting, but rather that than the other way.’

‘Too true. We need to keep him alive; I’ve got some questions to ask him. See you shortly, ma’am.’

Neville was in the act of putting on her jacket when the phone rang again. ‘Take that, Jackie,’ she shouted, but seeing as she looked up that the DC was on another call. ‘Bugger,’ she snapped, but snatched up the handset.

‘I hope this is quick enough for you,’ the missing persons clerk sniffed. ‘Yes, there is a missing person’s file on a woman called Mia Watson. She was aged twenty-seven when it was opened. That’s not yesterday, so we class it as historic, but it’s still open.’

‘Who notified us, do you know?’

‘Yes, it was filed by someone called Alafair Drysalter, and the relationship’s shown as sister.’

‘Sister? Are you sure?’

‘I can read, Detective Sergeant Neville,’ he sniffed.

‘Okay, sorry. Thanks. Nothing else on the file, is there? No notes.’

‘Only one; it was added a few weeks after the file was open. If the person is traced, we’re instructed to advise a Detective Superintendent Skinner, whoever he might be.’

The news from Alex was what I’d been dreading, ever since I heard that someone had finally sent Mia’s appalling mother to her long home. I was surprised that it had taken so long for her name to emerge, but I hadn’t been about to make the suggestion that they should look for her.

Nobody else could ever read me like my kid, not even her mother, and so her point about me blanking Mia Watson from my recollections struck home hard. Thinking back, she was right; from the day after I watched her drive off into the metaphorical sunset from the Radio Airburst car park, her name had never passed my lips.

But that wasn’t to say I hadn’t thought about her in all those years; oh yes, I had, and often. Mia was gone; to where I didn’t care, but it was where I’d wanted her to stay. I’d even taken steps to make sure I was warned of any reappearance.

A few weeks after her disappearance, I did a quiet check to ensure that nobody had reported her missing. To my surprise and slight consternation, I discovered that someone had; to be specific, Alafair Drysalter. She had described herself as ‘sister’ in her report and that was fair enough. From the age of fifteen, Mia had been raised alongside Perry Holmes’s daughter.

Mia had been a young lady with places to go, in her time, but she could never quite shake off her varied upbringing, and so she had never fulfilled that star potential. Instead she had got herself in what could have been a very large jam, from which she had been extricated by someone with influence.

Me.

I forced the woman from my mind as I parked in Gayfield Square. Like any good citizen, I put money in a meter, since I no longer had an ‘Edinburgh Police: on duty’ card with my signature on it, or the local clout to have a parking ticket pulled with a single phone call.

I’d made it five minutes faster than I’d told Maggie, but Ray Wilding was waiting for me nonetheless. I’d been quietly impressed as I’d watched his rise from detective constable. He was one of the younger members of the group I thought of. . I still do, in fact. . as ‘Skinner’s People’, and one of the brightest. I see him and Sammy Pye making it to command rank, but maybe not before young Haddock overtakes them both.

I had never imagined David Mackenzie making it to the top floor, though, not in his own right rather than as an exec, not even when I spotted him in North Lanarkshire and thought he might have been able to bring something new to the Edinburgh party.

He had, for a while, until the bad outweighed the good. Naturally I blamed myself. My assessment of the man hadn’t gone beyond the superficial. I should have seen through him, no matter how effectively his background and his character had been kept under wraps by dear old Uncle Max.

Tom Donnelly’s belief that violence and aggression had been beaten into him was probably correct, but all I’d learned about him and observed made me pretty sure that for all the old priest’s advice and counselling, he had never removed it. He had taught him to manage it, that was all.

‘How do we play this, sir?’ Wilding asked me as I joined him in his office.

‘It’s your territory,’ I pointed out. ‘You’re coordinating the investigation.’

‘Maybe, but I’m not taking the lead with you in the room. Also, to be honest, I’m not sure why we’re doing this in the office. I was just going to have a chat with her at home, till I was told to bring her in here.’

‘Okay, let me explain. I’ve been looking for Mackenzie from a different angle, through the man himself, and I’ve uncovered some stuff I don’t like. That stuff is potentially criminal, and while it may not involve Cheryl, it’s not appropriate for cosy fireside chats either. That’s why she’s here and that’s why we’re going to talk to her in an interview room, and video the conversation.’

That was nearly all of the truth, but I had something else on my mind that I decided not to share in case it affected Ray’s approach.

‘To answer your question,’ I continued, ‘we’re going to play it by ear. If you’re happy, I’ll lead and set the tone. You can chip in whenever you feel the need. She should be here in a minute. Meantime, I must make a phone call.’