Craig Robertson - Snapshot

‘That makes a change, sir,’ chipped in Addison brightly.

‘Aye, very good, Inspector,’ drawled Iain Williamson. ‘Keep those thoughts to yourself. No point in making this week even worse than it’s already lined up to be, is there?’

The DCI was a dour Dundonian who had been working in civilization for the past ten years or so. He was a good, solid cop but permanently wore the expression of a man who had found out his dog had died.

‘No, sir,’ Addison agreed.

‘Correct answer,’ interrupted Shirley, who was far less bothered about Addison’s quip than his DCI was. ‘Okay, tell me that you have brought DS Narey up to speed on the Wellington Lane girl so that we can get on with this other shit. It’s to be Operation Nightjar, by the way.’

The codenames came from an approved list generated by a computer and one was picked at random from it. One month, all the names could be trees, the next it might be breeds of dog. It was meant to avoid using names that were connected to the case and might end up muddying the water.

‘Catchy,’ replied Addison. ‘Nightjar? Makes me think of last orders. Or is that just me?’

Addison was looking at the superintendent but was aware of Williamson on his right, shaking his head disapprovingly.

‘Just you, Derek,’ replied Shirley. ‘A nightjar is a medium-sized nocturnal bird. Or so Iain tells me. So, DS Narey?’

‘I’ll make sure she is fully briefed today and I’m going to assign DC Julia Corrieri to her so she won’t be short of support. They’ve both been involved with the case to date so that will help.’

‘Two female officers? Should work well with parents. How does Narey feel about taking over the case?’

‘I haven’t spoken to her yet but I’m sure she’ll be delighted with it,’ Addison lied. ‘Narey’s good, sir. Very good. Allowing her to run the Wellington Lane case means we can put every other resource towards the sniper killings.’

The Temple raised an eyebrow.

‘Yes, you convinced me of that last night. And it also allows you to be free for the bigger case.’

‘Well yes, sir. I can’t deny that is something that appeals to me.’ Addison quickly tried to shift the conversation away from his motives. ‘But as I say, I feel these shootings are going to need every resource we can give. And on that front, I’d like to make a suggestion.’

‘I’m listening.’

‘I think it might be a big help, particularly further down the line, if we use Tony Winter on this.’

‘The photographer?’

‘Yes, sir. If it does pan out to be the Gilmartins or Riddle or whatever bampot out there is responsible for these shootings, then the last thing we want is for it to slip loose in court because of some evidential problem. I’d want to make sure that everything is nailed on.’

‘You don’t think the SOCOs are up to the job?’

‘It’s not that, sir. We all know how huge this is going to be when it gets to trial and that added expertise is certainly not going to go amiss. At the end of the day, he is a specialist and this is what we pay him for, sir.’

Addison gave himself a metaphorical pat on the back for that one. Alex Shirley was a big fan of specialists and had been around long enough to remember the benefits before half the force was turned into Jacks and Jills of all trades.

The Temple nodded slowly.

‘Agreed. But this is assuming there is going to be something else to photograph. Which you think there will be?’

‘Which I’m certain there will be,’ Addison replied.

‘Yes. Me too, unfortunately. Iain, what do you think?’

Williamson was equally aware of what the superintendent thought of specialists and could think of no good reason to argue against the principle.

‘It can’t do any harm,’ he agreed. ‘But hang on, is Winter not the same twat who turned up at the scene of the Caldwell shooting, taking pictures on his frigging mobile phone?’

‘Er, yes, sir,’ Addison admitted.

Shirley’s head slid briefly into his hands.

‘Great. Just great. Campbell Baxter is going to go mad at the very suggestion of this,’ he muttered.

Addison allowed a sly smile to sneak across his lips.

‘That’s just an added bonus, sir.’

Shirley laughed despite himself and even Williamson seemed vaguely amused.

The superintendent sat in thought for a few seconds before swearing briefly under his breath, picking up his telephone and waiting for his secretary to pick up the other end.

‘Phyllis, get me Campbell Baxter. Ask him to drop whatever he’s doing and come over to see me as soon as possible. Like now.’

Shirley swore softly again.

‘That awkward sod is going to bend my ear about this. I can’t bear the pedantic prick at the best of times and he’s going to be a right pain in the arse when I tell him what I want. This will be worthwhile, right?’

‘I’m sure of it, sir.’

The phone rang and Shirley picked it up immediately.

‘Yes? Thank you, Phyllis. Baxter will be here in twenty minutes. Okay, you two, what else is happening out there? I want to know every frigging incident that even sounds like it might be connected.’

Addison detailed the beatings and manoeuvrings that had erupted in the aftermath of the shootings. Those that had been officially reported and the far greater number that hadn’t. The ears of Strathclyde cops were flapping overtime to get an idea of just how much of it was going on.

When the door to Shirley’s office burst open after the most cursory of knocks, the three officers looked up to see the heavily bearded, heavy breathing presence of Two Soups looking down at them questioningly. Baxter was clearly eyeing Williamson and Addison with suspicion, as if he was being led into some kind of a trap.

‘Campbell, sit down. Please.’

‘I’ll stand if you don’t mind, Superintendent Shirley. We are extremely busy and I really ought to be back in the lab as soon as is practicable.’

All three cops sighed internally but let nothing show.

‘Thanks for coming over at such short notice, Campbell. I do appreciate you are under pressure at the moment.’

‘Yes, we are.’

The superintendent’s voice hardened.

‘We are all exceptionally busy. That is why I shall take as little of your time as is possible. I’d like to ask if you have any objections to Tony Winter being placed at the disposal of the team investigating the recent sniper shootings.’

Baxter bristled. An angry flush emerged on his cheeks and his words spluttered out in a barely concealed fury.

‘What? Winter? Absolutely not. I would have to post the most strenuous objection to any individual, particularly that individual, being allocated to a specific investigation. It goes against the very grain of the established bi-partisan working arrangement and I would take it as a personal affront and an attack on the integrity of the Scottish Police Services Authority itself.’

Shirley tried to let the old goat blow himself out, seeing with some satisfaction the distress of Baxter’s heaving paunch and the dismay of the sneering, pursed lips that peeked out from his salt and pepper beard.

‘Well…’ he began, only to be interrupted by Baxter’s continued bluster.

‘There is a matter of protocol here, Superintendent, and it strikes me that you intend to drive a coach and horses through that understanding. While I understand that Mr Winter is neither an officer of your constabulary nor a member of the SPSA, neither quite fish nor fowl as it were, I must make clear my objection. I would consider him to be something of a maverick, his behaviour being quite unsuitable to the task at hand and falling considerably below the standards I would seek in scenes of crime examiners. Furthermore…’