Ken McClure - Eye of the raven

‘ Then let me buy you a beer so you’ll leave your prints on the glass,’ smiled Steven. He led McClintock through to the hotel bar where he was true to his word.

‘ Seriously,’ said McClintock. ‘The powers that be have already been on to Sci-Med asking just what the fuck you think you’re up to.’

‘ And what were they told?’

‘ Some guy called Macmillan told them that you must have had good reason for putting your inquiry on a more official basis and that was as much as they needed to know. That’s what I call backing up your people,’ said McClintock admiringly. ‘I wish I could say the same for my lot’

Steven smiled.

‘ But do you know the best bit?’ said McClintock leaning across the table conspiratorially. ‘When Santini asked the DCC what would happen if he refused to co-operate with the Sci-Med directive, he was told to look out his lollipop because he would be on school crossings within the week. Like the Titanic, that went down really well!’

Steven almost choked on his beer.

‘ Don’t ever let on to Santini that I told you that,’ said McClintock.

‘ I won’t,’ Steven assured him. ‘And thanks. I’m grateful.’

‘ I just hope you know what you’re doing,’ said McClintock, finishing his beer and getting up to go.

Steven found himself hoping much the same thing as he went back upstairs. He connected the modem of the laptop to the phone socket in the room and logged on to Sci-Med where his first message was decoded as DUNBAR GREEN, indicating that he now had full operational status. There followed details of numbers and codes to be used during the course of the assignment. Two credit cards would be delivered to the hotel first thing in the morning. He was also requested to contact the duty officer at Sci-Med directly with any immediate requests.

Steven called and asked that the Grampian Police authority be informed of his being in their area on the following day and that he would like to be present at the post mortem examination of Ronald Lee. He gave the man the name of the Grampian police officer, DI Teal that McClintock had given him as a contact name, thinking that this might be quicker than depending on things coming from the top downwards. The duty man called back just before eleven p.m. to say that the post mortem on Lee had been rescheduled from 9am to noon to give him time to get up to Inverness. He was given the address of the city mortuary, elementary directions and the name of the pathologist who would be carrying out the autopsy, Dr Robert Reid.

Steven did not sleep well. He was haunted by dreams of Hector Combe laughing at him from the gates of hell while an angry Mary Lee accused him of being responsible for her husband’s death. ‘Just leave it alone,’ advised Peter McClintock repeatedly in the background while Santini stood in the road stopping his progress by holding up a lollipop stick with ‘Stop’ written on it. Any argument he tried to mount was countered by Combe grinning at him and making a snapping gesture with his fingers as he whispered, ‘this little piggy went to market… Snap! This little piggy stayed at home… ’

Steven woke with a start before the third snap and found that he was bathed in sweat. He looked at his watch and saw that it was just after three, the hour when the human spirit was at its lowest ebb and problems were magnified most. He lay slowly back down on the pillow and watched the moving shadows of the tree branches on the ceiling as the wind rose and fell outside. He knew that the sense of unease he felt stemmed from the fact he was acting on instinct rather than on any firm grounds for suspicion. He just had the feeling that something was dreadfully wrong about the Julie Summers case although at the moment it was hard to see exactly what. What did he hope to prove? If he didn’t know the answer to that — and he didn’t — it was no wonder that the local police were thoroughly pissed off with him.

Steven was on the road by seven in the morning. He had been warned that it might take some time to get across the Forth Road Bridge in the morning rush hour and so it proved with heavy traffic backed up on the approach roads. As he waited, he watched a small helicopter circle mockingly overhead and guessed that it would be reporting traffic conditions to a local radio station, informing commuters that there was a traffic jam where there was a traffic jam every morning.

Once over the bridge and on to the M90, he made good progress as far as Perth but then slowed as the motorway came to an end and he was funnelled back on to a trunk road where the slowest vehicle determined the speed of the convoy until overtaking became possible — usually on intermittent small sections of dual carriageway.

Steven still reached Inverness in plenty of time and found the morgue where the PM on Lee was to be performed before parking the car and stretching his legs with a walk by the River Ness until it was time.

The pathologist, Reid, a tall man in his early forties who was soft-spoken and had a habit of punctuating his remarks with an unsure half smile and a look at everyone as if to reassure himself that he wasn’t upsetting anyone, greeted him cordially. The only other person present, apart from a mortuary attendant, was the Grampian policeman, DI Teal. He was a short, thickset man who acknowledged his presence with a nod.

Reid was already gowned and aproned. He invited Steven to do the same, indicating a row of clothes pegs with gowns and aprons hanging from them. There was a wooden-slatted bench below under which was a neat row of white Wellington boots. Steven went for full overalls while Teal made do with an apron over his double-breasted suit.

The attendant brought out Lee’s body from the refrigerated vault and Steven grimaced when he saw that the tree stump that had skewered Lee had been left in place. It had been sawn off at the base to permit retrieval of the body from the riverbank but the jagged stump was still protruding from his chest. A look of agonised horror was etched on Lee’s face as if he had seen what was coming as he fell.

‘ Not a pretty death,’ said Reid, again with his half smile.

‘ Poor bugger,’ murmured Teal.

Reid started his external appraisal of the body, recording his findings into an overhead microphone as he did so. When he said, ‘The body has slight contusions to the left side of the neck and adjacent shoulder,’ Steven interrupted and asked if he could take a look for himself. Reid stepped back and extended an invitation with a gloved hand. Steven took a closer look then asked for a magnifying glass before doing so again.

In the background Reid said, ‘I’m not quite sure what your interest is in this case Doctor. No one had the grace to tell me.’

Steven was aware of the pathologist and the policeman exchanging glances when he didn’t answer but for the moment he pressed on with his inspection, moving down to Lee’s torso and paying close attention to his waist where he concentrated on more marks he found there. ‘I think I’ve found something,’ he said, straightening up and inviting Reid to take a look for himself.

‘ Ah,’ said Reid, ‘I see what you’re getting at,’ said Reid. ‘These marks together with the marks on the deceased’s neck would suggest that he was held firmly from behind before…’

‘… being pushed over the cliff,’ completed Steven.

‘ Very possibly,’ said Reid.

Teal, rolled his eyes skywards and said, ‘You’re saying this was murder not suicide?’

‘ I rather think we are,’ said Reid with his half smile.

The policeman nodded as if this were unwelcome news. ‘I don’t suppose any prizes are on offer for figuring out what actually killed him,’ he said, eyeing up the wooden stake protruding from Lee’s chest.