Alex Gray - Glasgow Kiss

Jo cleared her throat before continuing, ‘You may remember these case papers from Dr Brightman relating to child abduction. It seems Miss Lorna Tulloch has never worked due to health problems and we’ve managed to track down her GP who tells us that she has a history of mental illness. Okay, I know it’s a long shot, but there has been an instance of a kid being taken by a delusional woman before.’

The murmur that arose made her raise a hand. ‘ If Lorna Tulloch took Nancy and if she’s suffering from some sort of mental condition, then we need a softly softly approach. We’ll be in radio contact at all times,’ she added, ‘and we will be in constant communication with Lochgilphead as well.’

The afternoon was bright and clear as they sped down the boulevard towards the West Coast. Soon they were circling the Stoneymolan roundabout with its strange array of studded lumps of wood and ethereal birds on wires, an expensive eyesore that annoyed the Lewisman every time he passed it. Then the vista beyond Loch Lomond opened up and Niall Cameron’s heart rose at the sight of these blue hills beckoning them onwards. It was the first stage of the familiar journey that took him to Skye and beyond to the green hills of Harris and home.

DI Grant seemed content to watch the countryside go by and Cameron was glad of their companionable silence, enjoying the sweep of Ben Lomond rising majestically to their right, no scrap of mist obscuring its rounded head. There was much to occupy his thoughts as the Detective Sergeant drove his senior colleague through the little town of Arrochar, the famous Cobbler gazing down at them from its craggy heights, the road circling all the way around Loch Long then heading into the depths of the hills. Had the woman brought the child along these mountain roads? Had little Nancy looked out of a car window at that deep glen with its lonely cottage as they climbed the Rest and Be Thankful? And had she gasped at the thundering torrent of water spilling down the shadowy side of this mountain, a far cry from the city streets of home? All these ideas continued to haunt him as he drove deeper and deeper into the heart of the Argyll countryside.

In less than an hour they had reached Inverary with its white houses and fairytale castle. ‘Halfway there,’ Jo Grant murmured, looking out over Loch Fyne and the pier where the Arctic Penguin , an old sea-going schooner-turned-tourist attraction, was anchored. Then the car gathered speed once more as Cameron drove along the side of the loch, taking every bend as fast as he dared, one eye always on the road ahead to see if a white Mazda might be among the oncoming traffic. At last they were past Lochgilphead and Ardrishaig, with the Crinan Canal behind them as they drove along the single-track road towards their destination.

This summed up everything he hated about the media interfering in a high-profile case, Lorimer thought grimly, reading the Gazette ’s feature about religious types who had targeted young girls. Despite the grainy photograph of a long-dead Irish priest, it was a deliberate attack on Eric Chalmers and upon Lorimer himself, though his own name was only mentioned towards the end of the final paragraph as if the journalist had been saving her best ammunition for maximum impact. The feeling of euphoria that had come from Dan Murphy’s telephone call began to evaporate.

Lorimer read the article again and frowned. How the hell had Cassidy come by these particular pieces of information? He’d have to check with the police press officer, but even as his hand reached for the phone, Lorimer was certain that nobody had given permission for this to be made public. SINS OF THE FATHERSshe had called the piece. Lorimer let his eyes linger on some of her phrases: a hidden secret that was only uncovered when one of his former altar boys met him during a religious retreat . . elderly priest taken into custody . . numerous cases of both rape and murder have been committed by so-called religious men, some proved in a court of law but some still in that misty realm of uncertainty and rumour . . scandals have continued to blot the copybooks of both Roman Catholic and Protestant denominations, whether it is, perhaps, a priest fathering a child in his diocese or a Kirk elder having an affair with a married minister. .

But when a man commits the murder of a young person who is in his pastoral care, then it is more than eyebrows that should be raised. Questions must be asked about what sort of persons are being trained to look after our young folk within the sanctuary of the church or any organised type of religion today . .

Lorimer wanted to crush the paper in his hands, but he forced himself to reread the final paragraphs.

But now we have a case where the authorities seem to be shielding another religious figure from prosecution rather than taking him into custody. The Religious Education teacher, Eric Chalmers, who is at the centre of the Julie Donaldson murder, had his house completely searched by a squad of Scene of Crime officers from Strathclyde Police earlier today. So far no arrests have been made, though a person close to the investigation has informed the Gazette that Mr Chalmers has been under close scrutiny from the Senior Investigating Officer in the case. Repeated visits have been made to Chalmers’ home and his car is currently being taken apart by forensic experts to see if any traces can be found to link him with this case.

Why his arrest has not been made by DCI Lorimer, the investigating officer in charge of the case, is a matter of public speculation, but the Gazette has discovered that the police officer’s wife is not only a colleague of the RE teacher at Muirpark Secondary, but that Mrs Lorimer is a personal friend of the Chalmers family. In other walks of life a conflict of interests would immediately be noticed so why is Lorimer still in charge of this case and, perhaps more importantly, why is Eric Chalmers not yet in custody?

‘You’re off the case!’ Mitchison glowered at his Detective Chief Inspector. ‘We’ll just have to bring the review team in sooner than we wanted to,’ he said, his nasal whine directed at Lorimer. ‘This is a complete disaster. For one of my officers to have been named and shamed like this. . well, I don’t know what the Chief Constable is going to say about it, really I don’t!’ Mitchison did not deign to look again at his DCI, but examined his perfectly shaped fingernails as if Lorimer were somehow beneath his contempt.

It wasn’t in his nature to grovel and the very thought of humbling himself to a man whom he truly despised made Lorimer grit his teeth, but it would have to be done.

‘If I could just have a few more days, sir? We have just had some new information that might help to identify one of the victims.’ The words were out and his tone was suitably beseeching. Lorimer held his breath as he caught a triumphant glitter in Mitchison’s eye as the man sighed theatrically. He hadn’t wanted to reveal the latest report from the pathologist yet or relate how keen Dan Murphy had been to let him know what the forensic odontology had suggested.

‘Oh, well, I suppose we can give you, say, forty-eight hours. But we need a result. And I am expecting to have the news of an arrest as soon as possible. Do I make myself clear?’

When the telephone rang and he heard Maggie’s voice, Lorimer’s first thought was that she too had read Cassidy’s piece and was calling to convey her own horror. But as he listened, the story about Jessica King and her stalker changed the tense expression on his face.

‘Look, I’m coming over to Muirpark. Has the girl got her camera with her? Right. Stay with her. And tell Manson I want to talk to him as well.’