‘Not to talk to. She’s got Aubrey Hamilton with her.’
‘The forensic anthropologist?’
‘Yes.’
‘A pretty good tag team. Maybe you’d best mention Steele and Edwards to your boss.’
‘Why?’
‘So he can pull them in for questioning, have a bit of fun with them.’
‘You think I’d be that vindictive?’
‘If not, I didn’t teach you much.’
She found she could almost smile. ‘I’ll give it some thought.’
‘Want to come dog-walking later? Let off some steam?’
‘You mean keep you in the loop? How ethical would that be, do you think?’
‘Throw me a bone here — keep me and Brillo happy.’
‘I’ll talk to you later, John.’
‘Make sure you do.’
She ended the call and found that she’d walked all the way across the car park and out on to the Cowgate. When she turned round, she saw Graham Sutherland at an upstairs window, signalling for her to come back. She was trying not to blush as she retraced her steps.
Sutherland met her in the corridor outside the autopsy suite.
‘What was that all about?’ he asked.
‘Just had to take a call,’ Clarke answered. ‘Plus, the Blooms want to know if we can do the DNA here.’
‘Professor Quant is already on it. She’s finished the preliminary examination. Professor Hamilton has a bit of work to do, and she wants to see for herself where the car was found.’
‘Why?’
‘Something to do with how the specific environment breaks down a human body. The jargon was a bit beyond me.’ His stern look was beginning to soften. ‘How are the parents?’
‘She’s frantic, he’s more resigned. They seem to be giving their story to a writer called Dougal Kelly.’
‘Good luck to them.’ Sutherland pushed his hands into his pockets. ‘We’re in limbo till we get the ID verified.’
‘Doesn’t stop us cracking on. Ninety per cent chance it’s him. No other mispers from the time fit the description.’
Sutherland nodded. ‘I suppose we can go through the old case notes while we’re waiting. Maybe talk to a few people.’
‘There’s something I should probably tell you, sir. Two of the uniforms from the original inquiry are now ACU. They’re the ones I recently locked horns with.’
Sutherland considered for a moment. ‘Not a problem, is it?’
‘Just thought you should know.’
‘Is that what your call was about?’
‘Sort of.’
‘No secrets, Siobhan. Seems to me that’s what was at the root of the original inquiry’s problems.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Let’s go back to using “Graham” again, shall we?’
‘Sir,’ Clarke said, with a bow and a smile.
5
A visitor was waiting at the front desk of Leith police station. He was stocky and corkscrew-haired, with a pair of John Lennon-style glasses perched on his nose. Tweed jacket, chinos and an open-necked pink shirt.
‘My name’s Glenn Hazard,’ he said, dishing out business cards. ‘I’m here on behalf of Sir Adrian Brand.’
‘You’re in PR, Mr Hazard,’ Sutherland said, having checked the card. ‘Sir Adrian’s one of your clients?’
Hazard nodded. ‘The most important of my clients,’ he clarified.
‘And what brings you here today?’
‘The story’s already gone viral — you’ve found Stuart Bloom.’ He sought each pair of eyes for confirmation.
‘Not strictly true.’
‘Well, the online community’s latched on to it, so whether you have or not hardly matters.’ He saw the look he was getting and backtracked. ‘No, of course it matters. But my job is damage limitation. Sir Adrian has already had to deal with the fallout from when Bloom disappeared. It would be good to... control the flow of information and kill rumours before they get started.’
‘What are you trying to say, Mr Hazard?’
‘Poretoun Woods — they’re owned by my client.’
‘Jackie Ness sold them to Sir Adrian?’ Clarke asked.
Hazard was shaking his head. He was about to start his answer when Sutherland interrupted.
‘Best if you come upstairs, Mr Hazard. It’d be good to get this sorted out. Good for your client, I mean.’
The MIT room hadn’t yet been aired and still smelled musty. One of the radiators hissed a constant complaint, and Callum Reid tried without success to open a window. Equipment had been unpacked, however — computers, a TV monitor, and a whiteboard perched on an easel — and it looked more like an inquiry hub than previously. Photos of Stuart Bloom and his partner Derek Shankley had been pinned up next to the map. Photocopies of newspaper reports from the 2006 investigation sat on each desk. Mugs and a kettle had appeared. Clarke looked towards Tess Leighton.
‘You were busy last night,’ she said.
‘George helped, actually,’ she replied.
Hazard settled on the chair that had been Rebus’s the previous day. He looked the sort that would be hard to faze — probably a minimum requirement for working in public relations.
‘Did you represent Sir Adrian back in the day?’ Sutherland was asking as he got comfortable behind his desk.
‘I wasn’t in PR then,’ Hazard replied.
‘Interesting job, is it?’
‘Every day a new challenge.’
‘Bit like police work then.’ Which was the end of the small talk. ‘So Poretoun Woods are owned by Sir Adrian Brand. Since when?’
‘Just the past couple of years. They came with Poretoun House. He bought both from a hotelier called Jeff Sellers. Sellers had plans to turn the place into another hotel — boutique, five-star, you know the drill. I think the money ran out, so Sir Adrian stepped in. Snapped up a bargain, I believe.’
‘Both house and woods used to belong to Jackie Ness,’ Clarke said.
‘Ness sold to Sellers.’
‘Does he know your client’s got hold of them?’
Hazard gave the thinnest of smiles. ‘I’d imagine so, even though the actual owner is one of Sir Adrian’s companies rather than Sir Adrian personally.’
‘He’s dusting off the golf course plan?’
‘Not that I’ve heard. That was the other side of the city from Poretoun, you know — west rather than south-east.’
‘There’s still bad blood, though?’
‘Maybe it would be more accurate to say both gentlemen have long memories. But that’s really why I’m here. The media are going to have the proverbial field day. Stuart Bloom was snooping into Sir Adrian’s affairs. Twelve years later he ends up dead on land owned by Sir Adrian. You can see how that’s going to play, unless we manage the story with the utmost care.’
‘We’re not in the business of managing stories, Mr Hazard,’ Sutherland stated. ‘Back in the day, things might have been a lot cosier, but that was then and this is now.’
‘You can’t want to see an innocent man suffer, his reputation damaged. I’m just saying that when you prepare your press releases and give your media briefings...’
‘Keep your client’s name out of it?’
‘As far as possible, yes, to protect the innocent. I’d be more than happy to help your press office in the drafting of—’
‘We might need to talk to Sir Adrian,’ Clarke interrupted, walking to the side of Sutherland’s desk so she was facing Hazard. ‘Is Poretoun House our best bet?’
‘He doesn’t actually live there.’
‘So who does?’
‘I think it’s empty. Sir Adrian has a house in Murrayfield.’
‘So what are his plans for Poretoun House?’
Hazard offered a shrug.
‘And just to get back to the subject,’ Sutherland interrupted, ‘why do you think the body was in those woods?’