Quintin Jardine - Private Investigations

‘Yes, we do,’ Pye concurred. ‘And you’re right about getting out of here. I’ll have her shift the thing right now. Will she be a useful witness, do you think?’

I shrugged. ‘She might give you a more detailed description of the bloke in the hoodie, but that’s all.’

‘If he’s left his DNA in there, and he’s a known car thief,’ Sauce pointed out, ‘that’ll give us the best description of all. You didn’t touch anything inside did . . .’ He blushed slightly, as he saw my raised eyebrow. ‘No, of course you didn’t,’ he added.

‘I switched off the engine,’ I admitted, ‘but no, son, I didn’t leave any prints to confuse the CSIs.’

I looked across at the Grand Cherokee and saw its driver climbing up behind the wheel. As I dug my key out of my pocket and headed for my own car, Sammy Pye called after me.

‘We’ll keep you in the loop, sir. Promise.’

I nodded. ‘Thanks.’

‘We still need you, gaffer,’ he added. ‘It’s not like the old times. Things have changed, and not for the better.’

‘Should you have sounded off to Mr Skinner like that?’ Sauce Haddock ventured, as he watched a silver Mercedes cruise carefully out of the shopping centre car park.

Sammy Pye shrugged. ‘Why the hell not? The whole world knows he’s dead against the unified police service.’

‘The vast majority of serving cops were too, but we’ve got it now. He’s got to live with it like the rest of us. Then there’s the small matter of our new chief constable being his best pal . . . and practically his son-in-law as well.’

‘You’re behind the times, chum,’ the detective chief inspector said. ‘Andy Martin and Alex Skinner have split up, and for good this time, from what I hear. As for Andy and him being close, not as much as before. The story is, the First Minister pretty much offered big Bob any job he liked to persuade him to stay on; he even told him he could define it himself, but he was turned down flat.’

‘You and I both know there’s another reason for him chucking it,’ Haddock countered, ‘and he’s in jail. Anyway,’ the detective sergeant continued, ‘we shouldn’t even be thinking about that, not here. This is awful, Sammy. It’s the first child homicide I’ve ever attended. It makes me wish I’d pulled a sickie. Honest to Christ, who could have done that to the poor wee lass?’

‘We will find out,’ the senior officer growled. ‘Be sure of that. We’ve got two starting points: Sullivan, the owner of the vehicle, and the hoodie guy that the gaffer described.’

Pye was known for two things, his undisguised ambition and his even temper, but the latter was nearing breaking point as he waited for the scene of crime team to arrive. ‘Where the hell are these people?’ he snapped.

‘They’ll be here,’ Haddock reassured him. ‘We can’t secure this area anyway, until all the parked cars around us are moved.’

‘And that could take all day, unless we do something about it.’ He moved towards the shopping centre manager, who had been summoned to the scene, and was standing a few yards away, with a sergeant in uniform.

‘Mr Hall,’ he said, ‘I need your help. I want you to instruct every shopping unit in this part of the mall to make an in-store announcement asking all customers to return to their vehicles and move them, as directed by my officers; staff too. I need this whole area cleared. Nothing should be within two hundred yards of that red car.’

The manager frowned. ‘That’ll be difficult. Some people might have parked here then walked to the other side of the centre.’

‘Then make the announcement in every store,’ the DCI told him. ‘The alternative is that we close the whole damn place.’

‘Hey, steady on,’ the manager protested. ‘What’s this all about anyway? Sergeant Lemmon called me here, but he hasn’t told me what’s happened.’

‘You don’t need to know the detail. All I’ll tell you is that the BMW is at the centre of a major criminal investigation.’

‘Drugs?’

Pye shrugged his shoulders. Let him think that , he decided.

‘Okay, I’ll do it now.’

‘Good, fast as you can.’

He rejoined Haddock, who had his mobile phone to his ear. ‘Got that,’ the DS said. ‘Thanks. Give us the rest as soon as you get it.’ He ended the call. ‘The registered owner of our vehicle, Callum Oliver Sullivan, is a dealer in classic cars. Half an hour ago he reported the theft of this red BMW, registration Charlie Sierra Oscar One Echo, from his depot in a village called Kingston, in East Lothian.

‘The electoral roll shows two other people registered to vote at his address. One is Mary Jean Harris, the other is Maxwell White Harris, who becomes a voter next month, on the fifteenth of March.’

‘Which makes him seventeen at the moment,’ Pye observed. ‘And we know that Sullivan is?’

‘Thirty-seven.’

‘What else do we have?’

‘Detective Constable Wright’s established that Sullivan’s not known to the police; no convictions, not even motoring offences. She’s looking into his marital status now.’

‘I suppose Mary Jean Harris could be Mrs Sullivan,’ the DCI suggested. ‘It’s the in thing for women to keep their own name after marriage. Or they could just be cohabiting.’

‘If Maxwell Harris is his son, that would mean they had him when he was twenty. Young, but why not? Jackie’s search will tell us one way or another, and it’ll tell us whether there are any other kids.’

‘Only if they were born in Scotland.’

‘True,’ Haddock agreed, ‘but if the need arises, before we get into a broader search, Jackie will call round the primary schools in North Berwick, to check on infant class girl pupils, named either Sullivan or Harris.’

‘We’re guessing that she’s five or six; she could have been four and big for her age.’ Pye said. ‘She should check the nursery schools too.’

‘If necessary, she will, and she won’t need telling; she’s smart, is our DC.’ He glanced across the car park, at a blue van that was approaching. ‘Hey, here comes the crew.’

‘About bloody time,’ Pye muttered. ‘Get them moving, Sauce. I want a tent over the BMW right away. The pathologist won’t want to work in public. Do we know who’s coming?’

‘I asked for Professor Hutchinson, old Master Yoda. I figured that with Dr Grace having a wee girl herself, of the victim’s age, it might be better if he attends. You saw how cut up Mr Skinner was after finding the body. I think he’d actually been crying.’

‘I’m sure he had,’ the DCI agreed. He paused, then asked, ‘Otherwise, how did you think he looked?’

‘Leaving aside his distress,’ Haddock replied, ‘I’d say he looks fitter than he has for a while, and more relaxed. Towards the end of his time in the job, he struck me as being wound up real tight.’

‘Me too. I wish he was still with us, though. I always liked it when he turned up at a scene. It felt safer with him around, somehow. Right now, carrying the CID ball for the whole of the city, I will tell you, Sauce, I feel exposed.’

‘Then report this up the line; spread the load.’

‘I have to do that. The new protocol says I have to call our area commander, the chief super. But that’s no great help. Mary Chambers is uniform now. I’m senior CID officer in the city. The buck stays mine.’

‘I know that, Sammy, but I was thinking higher than that. Why don’t you ring the DCC?’

Pye frowned. ‘I don’t want it to look as if I’m crying for help.’

‘It won’t. What do you think Mario McGuire would prefer? To read in the Evening bloody News about a child murder three miles from where he lives, or to hear it from you direct?’