Иэн Рэнкин - In a House of Lies

‘He had proof?’

‘Why would he lie?’

‘This was something he’d discovered in the course of his investigation?’

‘Yes.’

‘Did you ever make a formal complaint?’

He stared at her. ‘Are you going to tell me it would have made a blind bit of difference?’

‘Did Stuart Bloom have run-ins with them like you did?’

‘He never said. The club did get busted a few times, though: cops looking for drugs, anyone underage, corrupt and depraved practices... Remember there was a spate of overdoses in the city around that time? That gave your lot the excuse.’

‘Mr Bloom was never arrested in these raids?’

Ness tapped the side of his nose. ‘Said he was smart enough not to be there those nights.’

‘Are you suggesting he was tipped off?’

‘His boyfriend’s dad was a copper — put two and two together.’ Ness poured the dregs of his can into his glass. Then he smiled. ‘You know I used them in one of my films?’

‘Who?’

‘I had a crowd scene I couldn’t afford, so I asked Stuart. Him and Derek rounded up a few of the guys they knew from Rogues. Now that I think of it, we filmed in the woods.’

‘What was the film called?’

‘ Zombies v Bravehearts . Ever tried to make four zombies look like a horde?’

‘Is that who Stuart and Derek played?’

Ness shook his head. ‘They were queuing up to get into a kilt, stripped to the waist and painted blue. It was so cold that day, I could have saved the cost of make-up.’

‘Is the film available anywhere?’

‘I’m told copies fetch a small fortune online. Died a death when we first released it. There are clips on YouTube.’

‘I’m guessing there’ll be one somewhere in your office, though.’

‘The only copy I have.’

‘We’ll bring it back, I promise.’

The low sun had shifted and was catching the side of Emily Crowther’s face again.

‘You really should consider acting,’ Ness told her. ‘Do you mind if I...?’ He produced a phone from his pocket and held it up to take a photo. But Clarke blocked the camera with her hand.

‘No publicity,’ she said. Looking crestfallen, Ness put the phone away again.

As they were leaving, he told the waiter he’d settle up at the end of the week. The waiter’s look suggested he’d expected nothing else. With the DVD retrieved — in a plain black plastic box — Clarke and Crowther headed back to Clarke’s car.

‘He could make you a star,’ Clarke commented.

‘Sleazy fucker that he is,’ Crowther muttered in response. Clarke gave her a sideways glance. DC Emily Crowther had just gone up — way, way up — in her estimation, as had DCI Graham Sutherland. He’d known the way someone from the film world might react to a pretty face — and he’d been right.

‘Why the interest in Steele and Edwards?’ Crowther asked as Clarke signalled into traffic.

‘They’re ACU these days.’

‘And you’ve just escaped ACU’s clutches.’ Crowther nodded her understanding.

‘Graham told you?’

Another nod. ‘You were exonerated, though?’

‘Whiter than white,’ Clarke said quietly, signalling to turn at the lights.

The first meeting between Malcolm Fox and Tess Leighton became an immediate battle of wills, which he ended up losing. The 2006 case files had been moved to a small, cold room down the corridor from the MIT office. Fox had argued that they should be returned to MIT.

‘All due respect, Malcolm,’ Leighton had drawled, ‘we’re running a murder inquiry in there.’

‘I wouldn’t get in the way.’

She had slid her eyes towards the stacks of boxes. ‘You probably would, though. Easier to concentrate when you’ve got a whole room to yourself. I’m always around if you need me.’

Having said which, she had inched backwards to the door, closing it after her. An hour later, she’d stuck her head back into the room. ‘We’re making a cuppa,’ she had informed him. ‘How do you take it?’

‘Just milk, thanks.’

‘Settled in okay?’

‘I’m freezing my arse off.’

‘Mug of tea will sort you out.’

When she left, he made up his mind, trailing her to the MIT office and positioning himself against one of the radiators, palms pressed against it. Leighton was behind her desk, Phil Yeats busy at the kettle.

‘Just till I’ve thawed out,’ Fox explained to the room at large.

Graham Sutherland looked up from his computer. ‘Making progress?’

‘There’s a lot to take in.’

‘If you come across anything you think might be helpful to us...’

Fox nodded. ‘You’ll be the first to hear.’

‘Meantime,’ Sutherland said to his team, ‘Aubrey Hamilton is heading to Poretoun Woods. Who’s up for accompanying her? How about you, George?’

‘I’d have to get some boots from somewhere.’

Sutherland shifted his attention to Callum Reid.

‘Wouldn’t I be more useful here?’ Reid argued.

‘I can do it if you like,’ Fox chipped in. ‘I wouldn’t mind seeing the gully for myself.’

‘You’re not official, though, Malcolm.’

‘I’ll go,’ Leighton said. ‘Malcolm can tag along if he likes.’ She shrugged as if to say: where’s the harm?

‘Don’t leave me hanging, Tess,’ Sutherland instructed. ‘Hamilton finds anything, I want to know ASAP.’

Leighton nodded her understanding. She had lifted a carrier bag on to her desk and pulled out a pair of wellingtons. ‘You got any?’ she asked Fox.

‘I’ll manage,’ he assured her.

Five minutes later, they were in Leighton’s Corsa. She asked Fox about his work at Gartcosh, then whether he had found anything in the old files.

‘You had a look at them before me,’ he countered. ‘What did you think?’

‘I didn’t like it that two officers had worked for Brand.’

‘Steele and Edwards, you mean?’

‘And the investigation really went out of its way to minimise mention of Derek Shankley, while still managing to focus on the victim’s homosexuality. Lot of gay men pulled in for interview and held for longer than seems strictly necessary.’

‘How about the family’s complaints?’

‘Thing to remember is, it was a misper. There were reasons to suspect foul play but no actual evidence of any kind — which didn’t stop the parents expecting miracles.’

Fox nodded to himself. ‘My boss told me the family’s complaints had been dismissed — that’s not quite the case, though. Police Scotland did end up apologising for the way we’d dealt with them.’

‘Without admitting we’d got anything wrong.’

‘I’m already seeing signs of sloppiness, Tess. It took over a week to get round to questioning Brand, for example. And nobody seems to have bothered even looking for CCTV footage from Bloom’s neighbourhood or the route back into the city from Poretoun House.’

Leighton gave him an appraising glance. ‘All of that from an hour’s reading? I’m impressed.’

‘It helped that you’d given it a go — the interesting stuff was all towards the top of the first box. I’m grateful for that.’

Leighton checked her sat nav. ‘You never did get that tea,’ she said. ‘We could stop for a takeaway.’

‘Maybe on the way back, but thanks for the thought.’

For the rest of the drive they discussed Police Scotland, politics and the state of the world, neither of them particularly willing to open up about their personal lives. But Fox reckoned it would happen; they were starting to get along.

Professor Hamilton had brought a male assistant with her. Fox hadn’t met the forensic anthropologist before, but he knew her reputation. She was short, with brown hair cut in a fringe. She wore glasses, behind which the eyes remained sharply watchful. Blue and white crime-scene tape surrounded the perimeter of the gully. The ground had been disturbed, evidence of the fingertip search carried out the previous day. They’d tried uncovering the old track, the one the car must have used. There had been some success, though saplings and briars had replaced it at many points.