Summoning the Dead (DI Bob Valentine #3)(40)

‘He was as shocked as I was – possibly even more so.’

The DI checked himself – his conscience was pressing. ‘I was a little full on when we spoke earlier. Can I return the apology?’

‘I’m glad you’ve calmed down now, Bob.’ Martin fixed her gaze on the detective. ‘Look, I understand what you’re going through. I know you think I’m a bloody pen-pusher, but I see the challenges you’re facing here. It can’t be easy. I mean the case itself is bad enough without it being from the town you grew up in . . . And I heard about the funeral.’

‘That’s the least of my worries now. My old man knew Sandy a long time ago.’

‘If you’d like to take some time, Bob, the chief constable can bring somebody else in.’

‘No. That’s not what I want.’

‘Neither of us support a transfer – it’s a non-starter. You’re too valuable to the squad, and there’s nobody ready to take over.’

‘DS McCormack’s ready.’

‘Jesus, Bob, she’s only come on board. How would Phil and Ally and the others respond to that?’

‘They’re police officers – they’re used to having their noses put out of joint. And anyway, since when were the delicate feelings of the troops a consideration of the top brass? If that was the case Jim Prentice would have had his own squad by now.’

The chief super raised her hands in a gesture of resignation. She rose from her seat and headed for the door. Her temperament seemed to have altered as she turned and spoke to Valentine. The confidence was back in her voice. ‘We’ve decided not to proceed with the public-relations secondment.’

‘You both seemed pretty sure of this Stubbs woman the last time we spoke.’

‘Priorities change, Bob.’

‘Indeed they do.’

She closed the door firmly behind her.

As he tried to digest the conversation he’d just had with Martin, the detective found himself questioning his earlier judgement. Had he acted out of anger? That was never a good position to make a decision from. Had he been too close to his feelings for Clare and the girls when he requested a transfer? He didn’t know. What he did know was that the about-turn by the chiefs had restored some of his pride, and that alone was enough to bolster some of his worth as a police officer.

The sudden confusion wouldn’t help, and he knew that Martin was smart enough, or cunning enough, to play to his emotions. With Chief Constable Greaves backing her, she would feel confident enough of getting her own way, but Valentine knew the final word would be his – even if it meant quitting the force and walking away with nothing. He packed his thoughts on the transfer away – he could return to them when the case was no longer his main priority. Right now he had the interrogation of Garry Keirns to think about and just how Freddie Gowan would react to being pulled into the station.

The DI returned to the incident room and stood before the notes and photographs covering the whiteboard. The case was in a state of confusion – much of what they had was no more than a muddle of disparate facts. There was no common element, no core of related data to draw upon. He wondered if the task was beyond him – did the length of time that had elapsed since the crime had occurred make a solution impossible?

Valentine dipped his head before the board and started rubbing the back of his neck. Tension was creeping in now, along with doubt, and neither were welcome. He snapped upright, checked around the room to see if his look of defeat had been recorded but all eyes were down – he had got away with it this time, but he knew his doubts would need to be fended off with more resolve in future.

Someone had left a sandwich from the Tesco Express on his desk. There had once been some kind of ham salad between the slabs of brown bread, but now it was withered and shrunken; he was glad he had no appetite as he slid the offering towards the waste bin to clear the way for the case files. Valentine didn’t know how long he had stared at the files, hoping for some illumination to come from the pages, but he did know when it was time to concede his efforts were proving fruitless.

On his way towards the interview rooms Valentine peered in the small reinforced-glass windows and noted where his interviewees were situated. Both Keirns and Gowan appeared agitated, stalking the confines of their small spaces and showing all the signs of impatience and indignation the DI would expect.

‘Good,’ said Valentine, under his breath. ‘The edgier the better.’

He spotted DS McCormack and DS Donnelly waiting for him at the far end of the corridor. They were standing chatting between the custody sergeant’s desk and a mop and bucket that was propped against the wall.

‘How did it go?’ said the DI to the detectives.

‘Oh, hello, boss,’ said McCormack. ‘Gowan came quietly, no real fuss at all. There was some shock when he saw the red and white, though. I don’t think it had really registered with him how serious matters were before then.’

‘You were probably too polite. I should have sent Ally – he’d know how to noise him up.’

The officers laughed. ‘Oh, he would that,’ said Phil.

‘And what about Keirns?’ said Valentine.

‘Huffed and puffed a bit, if truth be told,’ said Donnelly.

‘Before or after you cuffed him?’

‘Both. Though there was a monumental kick-off when the cuffs went on. You know, he thinks he’s bulletproof for some reason.’