Ken McClure - Eye of the raven

‘ But?’ prompted Steven.

‘ If the tests should confirm that the semen was in fact David Little’s…’

‘ You’d like me to stop upsetting people and come back to London?’ said Steven.

‘ Do you have a problem with that?’ asked Macmillan.

‘ I suppose not,’ conceded Steven. He understood the difficulty of Macmillan’s position and recognised that there were limits to how long he could go on rocking the boat.

‘ Good,’ said Macmillan. ‘As long as we understand each other. Keep in touch.’

McClintock was already in the pub in Inverleith Row when Steven arrived. Steven saw that he had got himself a beer and was eating a sandwich so he did the same and joined him in the corner.

‘ So, do I get an invite to the opening?’ asked McClintock between bites of a cheese sandwich.

‘ Of what?’ Steven asked.

‘ The Steven Dunbar Forensic Lab Service,’ replied McClintock.

‘ Highly amusing,’ said Steven.

‘ But you are going to do the DNA fingerprinting again?’

Steven confirmed it.

‘ Look,’ said McClintock, leaning across the table, ‘I know Ronnie Lee was a tosser but Christ, you’re surely not suggesting that the whole lab was crooked and made the whole lot up?’

‘ If I didn’t have doubts I wouldn’t be asking for the tests,’ said Steven.

McClintock stopped eating and looked at Steven in astonishment. ‘Christ, you are,’ he whispered. ‘You really believe that Little was stitched up.’

‘ I didn’t say that,’ countered Steven. ‘But there’s something wrong.’

‘ You think there’s something wrong,’ corrected McClintock. ‘And on the basis of that you’re prepared to throw shit 360 degrees.’

‘ It’s not a question of throwing shit but I am telling you, there’s definitely something wrong,’ insisted Steven. ‘I’ve tried bloody hard to find evidence to show that I’m imagining it but frankly, it’s been like looking for snow in July. The samples are missing; the lab reports are missing and when I ask the pathologist about it he takes an assisted walk off a cliff. The only thing left to me to check is the DNA evidence myself.’

‘ Have you asked McDougal to do it?’ asked McClintock.

‘ No.’

‘ You don’t trust anyone round here, do you?’

‘ Trust is like faith. I try hard not to rely on either,’ said Steven.

‘ What did you want to see me about?’ asked McClintock.

‘ I wanted to tell you personally why I was doing this. I suppose I hoped you’d understand.’

‘ And you’d get the inside gen on how the local plods were taking it’ said McClintock.

‘ No,’ said Steven. ‘I know how they’re taking it. They’ve been on to the Home Office.’

‘ Good,’ said McClintock. ‘Then you’ll know not to park on any double yellow lines in this city. You’ll go down for life.’

Steven smiled wanly and said, ‘You told me that the Fiscal’s office was wary of relying on evidence that came from Ronnie Lee’s lab. They presented as little as possible?’

McClintock nodded. ‘Like I said, they lost a number of cases when everything seemed to be cut and dried. Just when they felt sure their man was going down, defence counsel would pop up and question some aspect of the forensic evidence. Suddenly, it didn’t stand up any more. Case dismissed and egg on face all round.’

‘ Can you get me details of these cases?’ asked Steven.

‘ Are you thinking of having them reopened too?’ asked McClintock.

‘ You never know,’ said Steven calmly.

‘ Bugger me, you’ve got balls Dunbar: I have to give you that. If I was making enemies at the rate you are I’d be spending most of my time in the bog, I’m telling you.’

‘ But you will get the details for me?’ asked Steven.

‘ I’ll see what I can do.’

‘ Another beer?’

‘ Maybe coffee.’

When he got back to the car, Steven checked his phone for the Sci-Med text message he’d asked for. He called the number he’d been given at Edinburgh University and asked to speak to Dr Susan Givens.

‘ Speaking.’

‘ My name’s Dunbar. I understand the Sci-Med Inspectorate has been in touch?’ said Steven.

‘ Indeed they have, Doctor. I take it you have the samples?’

‘ I’m just about to pick them up from the police lab. Will it be all right if I bring them over this afternoon?’

‘ I have a meeting at two, so any time after three? Say three thirty?’

‘ Three thirty, it is then’ said Steven. ‘And you are in the Institute of Cell and Molecular Biology, room 923?’

‘ That’s right. It’s the tower building on your left as you enter through gate 4 in Mayfield Road.’

Steven drove across town to the forensics lab and was shown immediately into McDougal’s office where he sensed that McDougal seemed a deal less friendly than last time.

‘ All ready for you,’ said McDougal with a weak attempt at a smile as he pushed a polystyrene container sealed up with yellow tape across his desk. ‘There are two samples of semen and the wash obtained from the buccal swab of David Little taken at the time. They’re all in crushed ice. I take it you’ve already made arrangements for the analysis?’

Steven confirmed that he had without saying more.

‘ I can’t say I wish you luck because I’ve no official idea of what you’re setting out to do. I’d be lying of course, if I pretended that I couldn’t work it out for myself. Let’s say, I wish you a result, which shows that you’re wasting your time.’

‘ Fair enough,’ smiled Steven.

‘ There’s one thing I think you should know,’ said McDougal.

‘ What?’ asked Steven.

‘ I was asked yesterday to carry out a discreet analysis on these self-same samples.’

‘ By whom?’

‘ People with an impressive amount of scrambled egg on their hats,’ replied McDougal.

‘ And?’

‘ I declined.’

‘ Can you do that?’

‘ I’ll find out over the next few days,’ said McDougal with a nervous smile.

‘ Why did you refuse?’

‘ I don’t want anything to do with what went on in this lab in Ronald Lee’s time. I’m not going to be tainted by association. I’m gambling that they won’t want me fuelling the fires of publicity by resigning on a matter of principle.’

‘ Seems a safe enough call,’ said Steven. ‘Let’s hope for everyone’s sake that the scrambled egg stays on their hats and doesn’t slip down on to their faces when the results come back.’

‘ Amen to that,’ said McDougal. ‘You wanted a word with Carol?’

Steven nodded and McDougal excused himself in order to go find Carol Bain.

Carol Bain, when she came in, sat down in the same prissy fashion as she had on the occasion of their last meeting, crossing her legs and smoothing her skirt. ‘How can I help you, Doctor?’ she asked.

‘ You can tell me about John Merton,’ said Steven simply.

‘ I haven’t seen John for years. As I said before, when Dr Lee retired John left too. He worked in the medical school for a while and then there was some talk of him setting up his own business but that’s about as much as I know.’

‘ Any idea what kind of a business?’ asked Steven.

Carol shrugged. ‘I don’t remember him having any other hobbies or interests outside science so I presume it would have to have something to do that. That’s about as much as I can tell you.’

‘ The last time we spoke, you told me that John took it upon himself to look after Dr Lee in the lab, make sure he didn’t mess up too many things, minimise the damage and generally keep an eye on him.’

‘ That’s right,’ agreed Carol.

‘ Why?’ asked Steven. ‘Why did he do that?’