They tried the other licensed sex shops in Aberdeen, then had to make a last-minute dash back to FHQ for a meeting Steel had forgotten about with the Detective Chief Superintendent in charge of CID. If anyone asks, she said, jumping out of the car, we were detained questioning a suspect, OK? And then she was gone, scurrying into the building, complaining about not having time for a cigarette all the way.
Logan parked the car.
Up in the incident room, things carried on as normal occasional telephone calls from public-spirited idiots claiming to have seen a blue Volvo estate, others who said they knew who the man in the e-fit was, some with alternative IDs for Jason Fettes, and a couple who actually claimed to have seen him shopping in Boots that morning. Even though he was still lying in a refrigerated drawer down in the morgue.
Logan sat with the admin officer, a skeletally thin woman in her mid-forties, going through the reams of actions churned out by the Home Office Large Major Enquiry System, and assigning them to the available officers. After that he went through the progress reports. And then, with nothing else needing his attention, wandered off to the archives to see how Jackie was getting on. Only she wasnt there.
Up at the reception desk, Big Gary looked at him as if hed been dropped on his head as a child. Shes in court, you idiot theyve got that special hearing thing for Macintyre.
Sodding hell. Hed forgotten all about it.
If you hurry, you can still go cheer on your beloved. Gary dunked a KitKat in his huge mug of tea, then sooked off the melted chocolate. Eric says shes next up.
Court One was a lot busier than normal the public galleries crammed with people here to see Sandy Moir-Farquharson trying to get Rob Macintyre off with rape. The place always made Logan think of a converted cinema: magnolia walls, balcony and stalls, the screen replaced by a tall wooden platform topped with pillars and a portico, and above all that the royal coat of arms keeping watch over the proceedings. Even if it was covered with elastic bands, presumably pinged up from the floor below when the court was empty and no one was watching. An oval podium sat in front of the bench, the court clerk and his assistant on one side facing the unwashed masses, the prosecution and defence on the other looking up at the Sheriff in his robes and silk drop.
Normally all this would have been done in a little room round the back, behind closed doors, but the defence had requested a hearing in open court and to everyones surprise Sheriff McRitchie had agreed. According to station gossip it had something to do with his being a lifelong Dons fan in search of an extra season ticket.
Hissing Sid was in full flow as Logan sneaked in the back doors and found a seat at the end of a row, right behind DC Rennie. The constable was wearing his court appearance suit the one that always made him look like the accused, rather than a police witness.
Logan inched forward and whispered in Rennies ear: Hows it going?
The constable turned and gave him a pained look. Not good. I thought Insch was going to tear Hissing Sid a new one when he started banging on about police bias and harassment.
Logan pointed at the dock where Jackie glowered down at Sandy the Snake as he postured and played to the court. Hows she doing?
Well shes not hit anyone yet.
Oh.
So, you see, Milord, said the lawyer with a flourish, every time Grampian Police have investigated my client they have been forced to drop the charges, because the malicious claims of these women have been proven groundless. My client is an irritation to Inspector Insch and his ilk: an innocent man they cant fit up with-
The prosecution was on her feet like a shot. Milord I must object!
Sandy didnt even wait for the Sheriff to rule on it, just smiled his oily smile and apologized. I merely meant that while we all have our crosses to bear, Grampian Police seem to have their axe to grind
Logan scanned the court. It didnt take long to make out the huge, angry figure of DI Insch, looking as if his head was about to explode. He was going to be a nightmare to deal with after this. Rachael Tulloch the deputy fiscal left in charge while the PF was off sunning herself on a beach in the Seychelles wasnt looking any happier, sitting at the central desk next to the prosecution scribbling furiously while Moir-Farquharson put on his one-man show.
The lawyer held up a clear plastic evidence pouch so everyone could see the contents. Can you identify this item, Constable Watson?
Jackie nodded. Its the knife Macintyre attacked me with.
The lawyer smiled. That would be for a jury to decide, Constable. You say he attacked you with this knife, but your labs couldnt find a single fingerprint from my client on it. Could they?
He was wearing gloves.
So you have no proof at all that this knife belongs to my client, or that hed ever used it?
He attacked-
Please answer the question, Constable.
We we have no empiric evidence, but-
You have no evidence. He turned and faced the Sheriff, smiling up at the man. they have no evidence, Milord. My client was out jogging in preparation for tomorrows match against Falkirk and stopped this woman to ask for directions. She attacked him.
Thats a load of-
Constable! Sheriff McRitchie waggled his gavel at her. I will not warn you again!
Jackie shut her mouth and seethed.
Thank you, Milord. You assaulted Mr Macintyre, didnt you, Constable Watson? Even after you had nearly crippled him, cracked two of his teeth, and had him handcuffed on the ground you assaulted him!
Boll she stopped herself. I restrained him: that was all!
You kicked him in the ribs, its in the photographs! Hissing Sid held the glossy eight-by-tens up as proof.
He fell. Ask DC Rennie.
Youve been warned for excessive force before, havent you, Constable? And that was how it went for the next five minutes: he attacked Jackies credibility as a witness, made her out to be little more than a thug with a warrant card. She looked ready to throttle him by the time he was finished.
Milord, he performed a slow pirouette, and pointed at the footballer, sitting all prim and proper like a good boy, holding his mums hand, Robert Macintyre is an upstanding member of this community, a hero to many, an inspirational figure to children everywhere, a man who works tirelessly for local charities. We all heard Constable Watson admit that there is no evidence against my client. Ive shown that the identifications obtained from these so-called victims are flawed to say the least. Lets not forget that Grampian Police were adamant that Laura Shand was attacked by Robert Macintyre, yet now we find that someone else has confessed to that crime. And most important of all: my client has an alibi for each and every night these rapes are supposed to have taken place. Milord, given all these facts, I have to ask why this frivolous and malicious case is being pursued. Surely it behoves the Procurator Fiscals office to cease these proceedings before they waste even more of the taxpayers money.
The Sheriff pursed his lips, cogitated for a moment, then asked the Deputy PF if she had anything to add at this point. Rachael Tulloch didnt look happy as she stood to say shed have to consult with her superiors. Shed pulled her long, frizzy, not-quite-red hair back in a severe ponytail and it was beginning to unravel along with her case.
There was an exasperated sigh, then the Sheriff called for a half-hour recess.
Jackie marched down from the stand, glaring at Hissing Sid the whole time. The lawyer just turned his back on her and shook the hand of his smiling client. Can you believe this shite? she demanded, back at the prosecution bench. Where the hell did Macintyre get an alibi from?
His bloody fiancee, said the Deputy PF, groaning. She now swears blind he was with her every night. Why does stuff like this always have to happen when the PFs away?
His bloody fiancee, said the Deputy PF, groaning. She now swears blind he was with her every night. Why does stuff like this always have to happen when the PFs away?
Jackie stared at the footballer with his expensive suit and sticky-out ears. Hes going to walk, isnt he. It wasnt a question.
The Deputy PF scowled and dug out her mobile phone. Not if I have anything to do with it.
Logan slumped in the visitors chair on the other side of DI Steels desk, while the inspector battered away at her computer keyboard. Oh, cheer up for Gods sake, she told him, its not the end of the world, is it?
He shrugged and went back to staring out at the grey granite bulk of Marischal College. The misting drizzle had given way to heavy rain, bouncing off the jagged spires, hammering down on the black tarmac streets and concrete pavements. Drenching the just and unjust alike.
You know, Steel stopped typing for a moment, I remember when Macintyre was a kid, wee bugger was never out of trouble, but you could always rely on his mum to lie for him. Putting on a broad Aberdonian accent for, Oh, no, he couldnae hiv burnt doon yer mans sheddie, he wiz with me anight!
Arsons a long way from rape. And its his fiancee this time, not his mum.
Aye, well, youve got to start somewhere, havent you? The inspector finished typing with a flourish. Right, theyve cut our manpower budget, but I think we can still do this if we concentrate on the bondage scene and porn merchants. She smiled and hoicked her feet up onto the desk, scattering a small pile of reports. I tell you, Laz, Ive got a really good feeling about this one. Were going to get a quick result. I can feel it in me water.
VIOLENCE
12
Logan skidded to a halt, scanning the empty street. Nothing but parked cars, a skip full of builders rubble, and the rain. No sign of Sean Morrison, or any of his nasty little friends. Shite. He did a slow turn, trying to figure out where the wee bugger had got to. Hed been right behind Sean all the way down North Silver Street; nearly lost him in Golden Square when some idiot in a people carrier reversed out without looking; and now Logan was standing halfway down Crimon Place with blood all down the front of his suit, and Sean Morrison was nowhere to be seen.
It was all residential on the right-hand side of the street flats at one end and small terraced houses at the other, their granite walls contrasting with the dark-glass-and-concrete office units opposite. Logan was pretty sure Sean hadnt gone into one of the houses and it was unlikely hed be welcome in any of the business premises. Not looking the way he did.