Stuart MacBride - A Dark So Deadly

McAdams held the evidence bag up to the car’s inner light. ‘And there it is. Ladies and gentlemen, our case officially has an airtight lid. The novel is finished. It’s time for the epilogue.’

‘Cecelia?’ Mother gave her a little wave. ‘Tell your little friends that we’ll be celebrating tonight at the Dumbarton Arms. There will be karaoke, but the first round’s on me.’

She took the evidence bag back. ‘Deal.’

The sound of fingers battering away at keyboards filled the little office, everyone hunched over their computer, the printer in the corner making whirring clunks every now and then to break the monotonous clicking.

Paperwork, that was another thing they never mentioned on the recruitment posters. Join Police Scotland: spend half your time filling in forms and the other half being covered in other people’s sick.

It wasn’t easy, typing one-handed, but Callum finished off his final door-to-door report and sent it to the printer.

He powered down his computer, stood, stretched. ‘And with that, our handsome protagonist was first to finish.’

Dotty swore.

Franklin and Watt just kept on typing.

‘Still all to play for, Dot: silver and bronze aren’t as good as gold, but at least you’d be on the winner’s podium. It’s...’ He cleared his throat and nodded. ‘Detective Superintendent.’

The woman standing in the doorway had a full-on Kingsmeath facelift — blonde curly hair scraped back from her forehead and imprisoned in an unruly bun at the back of her head. Her grey eyes narrowed as she tilted her head to one side and stared at Callum. ‘And the reason you came to an undignified halt just now, Detective Constable MacGregor?’

He forced a smile. ‘Just finished my last door-to-door report, ma’am.’

‘And we thought we’d rub that in our colleagues’ faces, did we?’

The tips of his ears went very warm. ‘Yes, ma’am. Sorry, ma’am.’

‘Good. Serves them right for being slowcoaches.’ Detective Superintendent Ness held up a hand. ‘All right, everyone, hands off keyboards for a moment.’

A bit unnecessary, as the whole team had already stopped typing and turned to see how much of a bollocking Callum was going to get. But they all nodded anyway.

Ness stepped into the middle of the room and gifted them a smile. ‘I’ve just been in with DI Malcolmson and DS McAdams, going over Operation Imhotep, and I wanted to stop by and tell you all what a great job you’ve done. Now I know the Divisional Investigative Support Team often gets the smelly end of the stick, but you’ve done yourselves, me, Police Scotland, and more importantly: the victims’ families proud.’

Even Watt sat up straight at that one, looking like a cat that’d just been offered a spoonful of caviar.

‘This was a swift and efficient investigation and you got the right result.’ A little sideways nod. ‘Yes, it’s a shame Tod Monaghan managed to kill himself, cheating the families of a trial, but the important thing is that he’s not going to be hurting anyone else. So well done, all of you.’ She even gave them a solo round of applause.

Dotty grinned. ‘We’ll be happy to do it again, ma’am. You give us another killer to catch, we’re there.’

‘Yes. Quite. Well, the Chief Superintendent wants to add his congratulations to mine. He’s putting on a big press conference tomorrow and he’ll be making sure everyone knows about your invaluable contributions to solving this case.’

A pat on the back and credit? There would be pigs fluttering past the office window any minute now.

‘In the meantime, DI Malcolmson tells me you’re all off to the Dumbarton Arms for a well-deserved drink. First one’s on me, OK? OK. Good.’ Ness wheeched round on her heel and marched out of the office. ‘Just make sure your paperwork’s up to date before you go.’

‘... and one orange juice and lemonade.’ McAdams lowered the glass in front of Callum as if it was full of lukewarm urine. ‘Takes all sorts.’

Word must’ve got out about Detective Superintendent Ness paying for the first round, because the Bart was hoaching with off-duty police officers, SEB technicians, and support staff. All clamouring for their free drink. Laughing, shouting, showing off, enjoying themselves.

Made a nice change.

And at least, with the Bart being packed to the walls, Hedgehog didn’t have time to corner Callum and demand payment for last night’s binge session. Small mercies.

Mother clinked her wedding ring against the double whisky in her other hand, setting the glass ringing. ‘All right, people, as my dear old gran used to say: “HUD YER WHEESHT A MINTIE!”’

The hubbub died down to a muted roar.

‘That’s better.’ She held out her hand and McAdams helped her up till she was standing on her chair, looming over the crowd. ‘Now, I just want to say—’

A big voice boomed across the pub. ‘Thank you, DI Malcolmson, for getting this lot to quiet down for a change.’

Everyone turned to face the door, where a massive lump of a man stood in the traditional black T-shirt and epaulettes, a peaked cap tucked under his arm and a moustache on his face. He held up a hand. ‘Now, I know what you’re thinking: the old man’s just here to make sure no one’s sloping off early, but that’s not the case. Not this time, anyway.’ A dark rumbling chuckle.

He got a couple of sycophantic laughs from the brown-nosed members of the congregation.

Mother forced a smile. ‘Ladies and gentlemen: Chief Superintendent McEwan.’

The head of O Division gave a little bow, as if he was expecting a round of applause. He didn’t get one. ‘Today is a proud day for Police Scotland. Operation Imhotep’s excellent result just goes to show what can be done with teamwork and the right management-support from senior officers. This is the essence of modern policing in these challenging times...’

Callum’s phone launched into its bland anonymous ringtone. The two officers nearest him pulled pained faces and backed away a couple of paces as he yanked it out of his pocket and hit the button. Keeping his voice low. ‘What?’

‘Callum? Callum it’s Bob. Bob Shannon? Hello?’

‘... grasp the nettle and forge a new alliance with the public to ensure not just policing by consent, but by active enthusiasm...’

He turned his back on the Chief Superintendent. ‘Bob, hi. Sorry, I can’t talk, it’s a bit—’

‘I know it’s late, but I think I’ve got an ID for your public-toilet paedophile.’

‘... not just a success for DI Malcolmson’s Divisional Investigative Support Team, but for all of O Division...’

‘There are three or four possibles, but our most likely lad is one Gareth Pike. Mate of mine in the Sex Offender Management Unit did him at least a dozen times for trying to interfere with little boys in gents’ loos. Montgomery Park, Dalrymple Park, Kings Park, Camburn Heritage Centre, all the classics.’

‘... challenges when I took on the role of Chief Superintendent, but I knew that with the right people behind me, I could make a real difference to this division...’

‘Point is, Pike got fed up getting his collar felt, so he started to play away from home. Rest stops on the A90, the services at Montrose, that kind of thing. So a lay-by on the Aberdeen road would have been right up his street.’

‘... but it’s important to remember that the transformation in Oldcastle isn’t down to the hard work and inspirational leadership of just one man...’

Callum fumbled out his notebook. ‘You got an address?’

‘I can do better than that. Tell me where you are and I’ll come get you.’