Summoning the Dead (DI Bob Valentine #3)(25)

‘You’ve never heard of segs? I suppose they’re well before your time.’ Valentine pointed to the kidney-shaped metal fixings on the heels of the boots. ‘There, you hammered them in like nails to make the soles last longer.’

‘Looks medieval, boss.’

‘You’re obviously not a miner’s son – certainly not one that sat on the lines during the strike.’

‘You’re telling me you had these in your boots as a nipper, boss?’

Valentine smirked. ‘Only my Sunday ones.’

‘I think my leg’s being pulled.’

‘Maybe just a little, but you wouldn’t believe me if I told you about the handmade clogs.’

Donnelly laughed. ‘Now you are kidding.’

‘All joking aside, these pictures tell an interesting story, don’t you think?’

The DS watched Valentine sifting through the photographs. ‘I went through the evidence bags this morning and took some notes, sir.’

‘Do we have the tie back from forensic?’

‘Not yet. But I think we can pretty much narrow that down to the Catholic school.’

‘St John’s.’

‘That’s it. We have a rosary and a St Christopher too. I can’t see those being any use to a lad from the other school.’

‘That’s for sure.’

‘The St Christopher had an engraving on the back, nothing too informative, just the initials C. B. S.’

Valentine thought about the information the DS had just provided. ‘It might help us ID him down the track. Maybe someone will recognise it.’

‘It’s the kind of thing a mother would give him, if he was maybe going away or travelling. I know my mam gave me one about that age to take to Blackpool on a school trip.’

As Valentine listened to Donnelly he could hear his voice softening. The emotion was breaking in; it was going to be one of those cases. ‘It’s not for me to tell you how to process this stuff, Phil, but try not to become too attached.’

‘I know, I know, sir.’ He nodded. ‘It’s just that they were only kiddies.’

McCormack slammed down the telephone’s receiver and cursed loudly behind the detectives, breaking their reverie completely.

‘Bloody waste of space!’ she said.

‘Blairgowan?’ said Valentine.

‘You heard me asking for Freddie Gowan – he’s the top man.’

‘And?’

‘And Mr Gowan has a woman who keeps his diary, and she isn’t in the office today – she’s with him on site.’

‘Our site?’ said Valentine.

‘Unless they’ve another one in Cumnock.’

‘Well, I’ll save you waiting for a callback that might be too late in coming for my liking.’

‘Sir?’

‘Get your coat. You too, Phil. We’re going to pay Mr Gowan a visit. And he’s about to find out that a police murder scene trumps a building site by a country mile.’





15

The SOCOs seemed to be gathering soil samples when the detectives arrived. The uniform presence had diminished to two officers hovering around the doors of the white tent and a further one inside a police Land Rover. It was an old Discovery, the wheel arches and tyres splashed with more mud than it looked used to, but Valentine doubted it had been pressed into action as a 4x4 on this occasion.

The track he had taken through the field was still evident, the grass yellowing slightly in the hazy, yet very welcome, July sunshine. Rain had been the more natural course followed by the Ayrshire weather over the last few days, but the detective would settle for blue skies and birdsong whenever it was on offer.

‘Brightening up,’ said Valentine.

‘Careful, you’ll jinx it and have us calling in for wellies,’ said McCormack.

They proceeded to the tent and peered through the open door. It was lighter inside than on the last visit, the brighter skies and sunshine helping, but much of what passed for official business had already been undertaken.

‘Hello there, Bob.’ A small, white mask was pulled down to reveal a greying goatee beard and a prominent smile.

‘Bernie, how’s the clean-up going?’

‘We’ve got pretty much the lot, just taking some soil readings but they won’t be over analysed. It’s clear the scene of crime hasn’t moved in the thirty-odd years we’re looking at now.’

‘You mean the oil drum’s been in the ground the whole time?’

‘That’s what the oxidation would suggest. The pH levels on the soil are consistent, and there’s no sign of foreign bodies or secondary intrusion. It’d be my guess the boys have rested here, if not in peace, certainly undisturbed for the whole time.’

‘We’re getting the barrel looked at too,’ said Valentine. ‘In case it can tell us anything.’

The scenes of crime officer started to mop his brow and headed for the door. ‘Probably wise, if a long shot. Let’s grab some air, eh.’

‘Sure.’

‘I wouldn’t hold out too many hopes on the oil drum. It’s ICI – you realise that’s like trying to pin down a can of Pepsi!’

‘Really, that common?’