The chief held up a hand. ‘Two things, I said. That press release you issued this morning, about the unknown girl we were trying to identify.’ Royston nodded. ‘You’ll be glad to hear we’ve made progress; we know who she is, where she’s from, and how she got here. It’s an ugly story, and I’m going to crap on the guys responsible from a great height.’
‘That’s good to know, Bob. Do you want me to issue another release saying that she’s been identified?’
‘No, because we’re still interested in the guy who dumped her at the doctor’s. No, my concern is this. I’ve got some fairly pissed-off CID officers who said that you were asked to issue our public appeal last night but declined to do so, on the grounds that nobody would have used it until this morning.’
The media manager’s features tightened. ‘That was my judgement,’ he said, curtly. ‘It was late in the evening, and nobody was dead. The morning papers were pretty much made up by then; they couldn’t have used it.’
‘Well, I’m afraid I don’t agree with it, Alan,’ said Skinner. ‘I know a guy called Spike Thomson who’d have had it on radio by ten. One phone call by me to June Crampsey at the Saltire and she’d have squeezed it in. Another phone call to the Scotsman saying that she was carrying it and so would they. Wrap a bit of colour round it and the tabloids would have jumped in too. Sure, we identified the kid anyway, but there’s still our mystery man, and we have reason to believe that he may be important.’
Royston glared across the desk. ‘Chief Constable, if you’re saying that you don’t have confidence in my judgement. . well, I think we both know why.’
Skinner set his forced bonhomie aside. ‘Chum,’ he said quietly, leaning forward, ‘if I had let personal issues get in the way of the job, you’d have been long gone. It was my faith in your judgement that kept you here. You fucked up last night, and you know it. I’m telling you, don’t let it happen again.’
‘It won’t,’ the man retorted.
‘Good. Enough said.’
‘Not quite. It won’t happen again because I’m leaving.’
‘Aw, for fuck’s sake, Alan,’ the chief exclaimed, ‘don’t be so thin-skinned. If everyone I chewed out did that there’d be no bugger left here.’
‘It’s not that. I’ve been head-hunted, Bob, offered another position, and I’m minded to accept it. That’s what my meeting this evening’s about.’
‘When did this happen?’ asked Skinner, taken aback.
‘Earlier this afternoon, so no, it didn’t have any bearing on my fuckup, as you put it. I apologise for that, as I wouldn’t like us to part on bad terms.’
‘What is this job? Who’s offered it?’
Royston shook his head. ‘I can’t answer either of those questions, Bob, not at this stage. Listen,’ he added, ‘it’s not you that’s making me leave. Don’t think that for a minute. I just feel stale here, that’s all; it’s time to go.’
‘I see. Is there anything I can say to. .’ Before he could complete the question, his phone rang. He snatched it up. ‘Yes!’ he barked, before his expression softened almost instantly. ‘Neil, what’s up?’
Royston watched him as he listened to McIlhenney, as his frown deepened, until his brow was massively furrowed. ‘Jesus,’ he whispered, eventually. ‘Two different threads, tied together. Are you going to the scene?’ Pause. ‘Then head on down there. Gimme the address and I’ll join you.’ He snatched up a pen and a pad and scrawled upon it as he listened. ‘Got that.’ He slammed the phone back in its cradle, then met Royston’s gaze. ‘That man we were looking for,’ he said, ‘about the girclass="underline" well, we want him even more now.’
Thirty-six
‘Becky’s on her way, sir,’ Ray Wilding told Neil McIlhenney, almost as soon as he had stepped out of his car into the cold Leith evening.
‘No, she’s not,’ the detective superintendent replied. ‘I told her to stay away for now. We had four CID officers find the body. . I assume they’re still here.’
‘Yes, they’re canvassing the neighbours, to see if anybody got sight of this man. DI Dorward and his team are inside.’
‘Good, at least they’ve got something to do. You and I are here, and we’re going to be joined by others soon. If Becky had come as well, this would have started to look like a Police Federation picket line.’
‘Who else is coming?’
McIlhenney pointed. ‘They are,’ he said.
The sergeant turned to follow the direction of his finger, and saw the chief constable’s black Chrysler ease to a halt on the other side of the street. As Skinner climbed out, so did Mario McGuire from the passenger side.
‘Does this mean that Aileen’s stuck at the Parliament building?’ McIlhenney asked, as they approached.
The chief shook his head. ‘No, it’s a two-car day: most of them are. We leave a big carbon footprint, I know.’ He nodded briefly to Wilding. ‘Hi, Ray, how are you doing? Your people, and Becky’s, walked right into this one, didn’t they just. From what Neil told me, it must have been like a fucking rugby scrum when the four of them went through that door.’
‘I know, sir,’ the sergeant admitted, ‘but big Montell had just come from interviewing the girl victim at the Royal and his blood was up.’
‘It’s OK,’ Skinner told him. ‘I have daughters; I’d have been the same as him in that situation. It’s probably just as well for everyone except the victim that he was dead when they got in there. Come on; let’s take a look inside, see what we’ve got.’
He led the way into the tenement’s common stairway, and up to the flat. A uniformed constable guarded the doorway; he stood just a little straighter as they approached, then stepped aside to let them pass.
The chief constable stepped into the hallway, but went no further. ‘Arthur,’ he called out, ‘how are you doing in there?’
Moments later, Detective Inspector Dorward’s head and shoulders appeared round the doorway from the living area, clad in the usual protective tunic. ‘As well as can be expected, sir.’ He paused. ‘Jesus Christ, how many of you are there?’ he moaned. ‘I haven’t got enough tunics for you all. Look, his bedroom’s clear; the one nearest the door. Some of you wait in there, please.’
‘How do you know it’s his bedroom?’ Skinner asked.
‘All his stuff’s there.’
‘I suppose.’ He turned to his colleagues. ‘You three keep Arthur as happy as possible,’ he said. ‘I’ll take a quick look at the victim.’
As the three stepped out of the hallway, he moved to join the DI. Dorward opened his mouth, but he cut him off before he could speak. ‘No, Arthur, I’m not wearing a paper suit. My DNA’s on file if I leave any behind.’ He took care as he walked into the room, watching where he placed his feet, until he reached the dead man. ‘Do you know the full story of what happened here?’ he asked.
‘Aye, Chief. Montell and Cowan told me; I find myself a lot less sympathetic to this lump of meat than I might otherwise have been.’
Skinner leaned over the body. ‘Has the doc been yet?’
‘No, sir, but I don’t need anybody to tell me he’s fucking dead, or even what killed him. The pathologists can declare death, and join all the dots later on. I’ve got no doubt this was done manually, and I don’t see any possibility of an accident.’
‘No, me neither. Someone’s held him and snapped his neck.’
‘More than one person, surely.’
‘From what I’ve been told, no.’ Pause. ‘You are right, though, insofar as we can’t say that for sure until the pathologist gives us an exact time of death.’ He straightened up. ‘I’ll get out of your way, Arthur. You’re going to find loads of traces here, especially in that other bedroom. I want you to take special care over that. First and foremost we need to prove that the kid was actually kept here. Once we’ve done that, any of her abusers we can identify from the DNA database is going to be charged with rape, and with luck we will nail some. You’ll also find stocks of GHB, and who knows, maybe other date rape drugs. These were administered to the girl orally; if you can find a glass or cup with traces and her prints on it, also Jankauskas’s, that’ll help any prosecutions that might follow.’