Ken McClure: Eye of the raven

Steven made a decision. He would not ask Sci-Med to send along strangers to tell Charlotte Little. He would go to Norfolk and tell her himself. At least he appreciated how strong the evidence against her husband had been and understood why she had had no alternative but to believe that her husband was guilty — after all, he himself had been convinced of that at the outset. He hoped that he’d be able to reassure her that she shouldn’t blame herself. Telling her that her Little had AIDS was however, going to be something else entirely.

Next day, with his final report finished and submitted to Sci-Med and his request for a few days leave granted, Steven arranged for flowers to be sent to Susan Givens and Samantha Egan, with a note of thanks to each. He handed back the keys of his rented car, checked out of his hotel, and returned to London on an evening BA shuttle. Once there, he went directly to his flat to spend the night before driving up to Norfolk in the morning.

As always, when he opened the door of his flat after being away for a while, he was struck by the still, silent, cold of the place but he quickly headed off maudlin thoughts of times past by switching on the lights and turning on the heating and television to provide warmth and noise as quickly as possible.

There was no food in the fridge or bread in the bin but his trusty stalwarts, gin and tonic were available so he downed a couple before heading out to pick up some Chinese food from the Jade Garden. A supermarket trip could wait until he came back from Norfolk. He ate the food in front of the television while he caught up on the news and gave the water heater time to do its job.

The Channel 4 news at seven reported the arrest of a sauna owner in Edinburgh for the murder of a prostitute found dead on the shores of the Firth of Forth. He’d been charged along with two other men who were also thought to have been implicated. The sauna boss was also under investigation over his involvement in the running of an international pornography ring and further charges against him were pending.’

‘ Bingo,’ murmured Steven. He was relieved to hear that there was no mention yet of the David Little miscarriage of justice.

Almost as if an adjunct to the news, Steven’s phone rang: it was Peter McClintock.

‘ Congratulations,’ said Steven. ‘I just saw it on the news.’

‘ I tried ringing you earlier,’ said McClintock. ‘You must have been on the plane. Having Verdi’s assets frozen did the trick. His two heavies saw things differently when we told them a 100 % wage freeze was about to be implemented and their boss was looking for legal aid. They argued a bit but finally one coughed but said the killing was down to Verdi. The other one was keen to agree with that.’

‘ There was no mention of the snuff videos on the news,’ said Steven.

‘ That’s proving problematical,’ said McClintock. ‘The Fiscal’s office has pointed out that actresses die on the screen every day. Getting a jury to believe that it was for real in this case demands that we come up with the bodies and we will. It’s just a question of finding the weakest link among the names that Tracy left us. Somebody must know something.’

‘ I wish you luck,’ said Steven.

‘ I guess you’re glad to be out of it,’ said McClintock.

‘ Just one more thing to do,’ said Steven. ‘I’m going to tell Charlotte Little personally about her husband. I’m going up there tomorrow.’

‘ You’re a good man, Charlie Brown,’ said McClintock. ‘What made you decide to do that?’

Steven told him.

‘ Then I wish you luck,’ said McClintock. ‘I’ll let you know if there are any developments.’

The battery in Steven’s own car, a dark green MGF, had gone flat with standing in the garage unused. The starter motor barely managed to turn over the engine.

‘ Been lying for a while?’ asked one of his neighbours who had been about to drive off when he’d heard the final turn of the Steven’s starter fade into nothingness. ‘These car alarms use up more juice than you’d think. Want to borrow my charger?’

Steven looked at his watch and said, ‘If you’ve got jump leads I’d rather have a start. I’ve got a way to go so she’ll charge herself on the journey.’

‘ No problem,’ said the neighbour. He brought his car alongside Steven’s and brought out a set of jump leads from his boot. He connected up the two batteries, trying not to let his smart business suit come into contact with the bodywork as he did so. Steven started his car, blipping the throttle until he was sure that the engine wasn’t going to stall.

‘ I’m obliged to you,’ he said.

The neighbour waved away his thanks with a smile as he wiped his hands on a paper towel and got back into his car to set off for work.

Steven thought about the man as he drove across town. It had been a simple, everyday act of kindness but he found himself clinging to it to reassure himself that such things still went on. That he needed to do so was telling him that Verdi’s sordid world of vice, pornography and murder had been getting to him more than he had realised, as had thinking about the Littles. There were times when it would be all too easy just to give up on human nature and drift down into the welcoming arms of complete and abject cynicism.

Steven parked by the sea front in Cromer and used his mobile phone. He was relieved when it was James Grant who answered.

‘ This is going to sound very melodramatic, Mr Grant,’ he said. ‘But it’s Steven Dunbar here and I’d like you to answer one question before you say anything else. Is you daughter in the house at the moment?’

‘ No, Lotty’s out shopping with her mother. They’ve gone into Norwich.’

‘ So you’re alone and they’ll be away for a while?’

‘ They’ll be back around tea time,’ said a puzzled sounding Grant.

‘ I need to speak to you. I’m in Cromer. Is it all right if I come to the house?’

‘ I suppose so. I’d rather hoped I’d seen the last of you, Dr Dunbar, if you don’t mind me saying so.’

‘ It’s important,’ said Steven.

‘ All right,’ said Grant in a resigned tone.

Steven and Grant spoke in the conservatory. Today, a bag of potting compost and several large pots were lying on the floor, as was a trowel and a number of colourful seed packets.

‘ I was in the middle of doing my early planting,’ said Grant.

‘ Always a nice time of the year,’ said Steven. ‘What are they?’ He could see that Grant was worried: it showed in his face despite the polite small talk they kept up for a few moments. ‘I’m afraid I have some disturbing news for you,’ he said. ‘I thought it best if you heard it first rather than Charlotte.’

Grant’s shoulders sagged forward and he shook his head slowly in disbelief as Steven told him of David Little’s innocence.

‘ This just cannot be,’ he said. ‘Charlotte was told — we all were — that he was guilty beyond all shadow of a doubt. I mean, they found

…’

‘ It must have seemed that way to everyone at the time,’ said Steven. ‘To be fair to the authorities, there was no other way of construing the evidence.’

‘ Fair to the authorities?’ repeated Grant slowly as if it were the last thing on earth that he wanted to be.

‘ I know it’s going to be difficult,’ said Steven.

‘ This could prove the last straw for Lotty,’ said Grant. ‘I know my daughter and she’s going to be overwhelmed by guilt. It could well push her into a complete nervous breakdown.’

‘ That’s really why I came here to speak to her personally,’ said Steven. ‘I was convinced that Little was guilty too. I know that your daughter had no option but to believe the evidence presented to her at the time.’