Stuart MacBride - A Dark So Deadly

‘It’s just procedure, ma’am.’ Callum stayed where he was, huddled inside the porch, out of the rain. ‘And you’re sure you haven’t seen either of these women?’ He held up the photos of Ashlee and her mum again.

‘Only, you know what these coloured people are like. It’s always them in those London riots, isn’t it? And shooting people.’

It took a lot of effort, but Callum managed a smile. ‘I can assure you, Detective Constable Franklin isn’t like that. And the majority of rioters were white, by the way.’

‘What if she steals my lawnmower?’ A sniff. ‘And they’re so touchy these days, aren’t they?’

‘You can’t say anything or it’s a “hate crime”.’

‘She’s not going to steal your lawnmower.’

‘When I was a wee girl they were called “nig-nogs” and no one ever complained. If you ask me, that Enoch Powell had the right idea.’

He stared at her. ‘Yes. Well. These are more civilised times, aren’t they? We don’t just accept casual racism. And we don’t call people “nig-nogs”!’

Callum fingered the tin of pepper spray in his jacket pocket.

We do not live in a police state. We do not live in a police state...

‘Should send them all back where they came from.’

He pointed. ‘She’s from Glasgow .’

A nod. ‘There you are then.’ As if that ended the argument.

Franklin emerged from the shed and it didn’t look as if she’d stuck the old cow’s lawnmower under her jacket to make a clean getaway. Instead, she shook her head, brushing cobwebs from her jacket as she marched up the path to the back door. ‘Thank you for your cooperation.’

Mrs Enoch Powell smiled at her. ‘Not a problem, dearie. I’m only too glad to help.’ She followed them through the kitchen, down the hall, and out the front door. Keeping both eyes fixed on Franklin. ‘Mind how you go now.’

Callum sank into the passenger seat and clicked on his seatbelt. ‘And that’s us.’ He drew a red line through their final address.

‘So what’s next?’ Franklin pulled away from the kerb, heading back towards the town centre.

The little old racist stood on her front step, watching as they drove away. Probably expecting Franklin to pull a handbrake turn and steal everyone’s lawn ornaments.

‘Chase up the Land Registry Office?’

‘Worth a go.’ He took out his phone and called control. ‘Brucie? Callum. I need you to light a fire under the Land Registry Office. Tell them there’s a little girl’s life on the line here.’

‘Your usual slave’s got a day off, has he?’

‘Don’t be a dick, Brucie. You know it’ll sound better coming from you. More official.’

‘Aye, right.’ A sigh. ‘I’ll give them a shoogle.’

‘Thanks, Brucie, you’re a star.’ He hung up. Tapped the phone against his chin. ‘There’s nothing else we can do for Ashlee right now, is there?’

Franklin shrugged. ‘Not till the Registry gets back to us.’

‘Exactly.’ He called Mother as the housing estate gave way to a short line of shops. ‘We’re nought for twenty-one. Anyone else?’

‘I should be so lucky.’

A voice in the background sounded like McAdams: ‘Watt, I’m not kidding about here: call me back soon as you get this!’

‘Trouble in paradise?’

‘None of the other teams found anything. Not so much as a smoked sausage.’

McAdams got louder: ‘I trusted you, you wee shite. I thought we had an understanding!’

The windscreen wipers squeaked and squonked their way back and forth. The gutters were overflowing at the bottom of the hill, making a loch that stretched all the way across the road and about twenty foot long.

‘We’re heading back to the shop now.’

Mother groaned. ‘I think we’ve blown this one, Callum.’

‘Where the hell are you?’

‘It was always going to be a long shot.’

‘I know, I know. We—’

‘When I get my hands on you, Watt, I swear on my oncologist’s grave I’m going to—’

‘Andy! For goodness’ sake: enough.’

Franklin slowed for the water feature, sending arcs of dirty grey splashing up and out.

There was silence from the phone, then a sniff from McAdams. ‘ Fine . Call me back, Watt.’

‘And don’t look at me like that, you know it’s not good for your blood pressure.’

Callum cleared his throat. ‘Boss? You know you said we had to do everything we could for Ashlee Gossard...?’

Her voice was flat as an ironing board. ‘You want to talk to Gareth Pike.’

‘Only, we’ve been through our list, we’ve got a request in with the Land Registry Office, and there’s nothing else we can actually do right now.’

‘Callum, I’ve got half a dozen of DCI Powel’s cases sitting here on my desk, just waiting for someone to—’

‘Boss, please. I need to know.’

A sigh. ‘All right. But if something comes up—’

‘Not a problem. You shout and we’ll come running.’

And with any luck, by then they’d be one step closer to catching his mother’s killer.

The interview room was every bit as depressing as last time. Callum sat at the table, left leg twitching and jumping away to itself, waiting.

Franklin checked her watch. ‘What’s taking so long?’

‘He’ll be dragging it out as long as he can. He’s lost, and he knows it. Keeping us waiting is the only way he can exert power.’

‘Hrmmm...’ She paced to the fake rubber plant and back again. ‘Even if he gives you a name, there’s no guarantees. A lot can happen in twenty-six years.’

‘Will you sit down? You’re making me itchy.’

‘And what if he’s just messing with your head, did you think of that? Maybe he didn’t see anything at all, and this is just him playing games.’

‘I’m not kidding, sit your backside down and...’ Callum sat up straight as the door swung open and the little man in the ugly jumper came back in.

‘Now, I know you were here yesterday, Detective Constable MacGregor, but this bit is like the safety announcement on aeroplanes: we have to do it.’ Duncan took a deep breath. ‘You’re not to give the inmate anything, and you’re not to take anything from him. That includes messages to, and from, the outside world. You’re not to let him use your mobile phones. We disapprove of physical contact. And a staff member will be present at all times. OK?’

‘OK.’

‘OK.’ A smile. ‘Now, please make sure your seats and tray-tables are in the upright position.’ He poked his head back out into the corridor. ‘All right, Rachael, bring him in.’

And there was Gareth Pike again, ducking to get in through the door, lowering himself into the seat opposite like a shaved bear. Sitting with his shoulders forward and his back hunched. Lights reflected in his bald head. His mouth turned down at the edges, as if he’d just swallowed something nasty. ‘Before we begin this exercise in completely unfair manipulation, I want it made clear that I am only providing this information under the most terrible duress.’

Callum reached into his pocket and produced a sheet of folded paper. Laid it on the table between them. ‘You’re looking well, Gareth. Have you been polishing your head?’

‘Furthermore, I must protest in the strongest terms about being kept waiting for so long. I’m not a well man and the stress is harmful to my conditions.’

‘You have a name for me.’

The mouth turned down even further. ‘I want assurances that I will not be given a community service order .’ A small shudder set his jowls wobbling. ‘Like some sort of track-suited youth caught shoplifting from Lidl. I will be placed in a suitable residential facility designed to cater for people with my proclivities.’