Summoning the Dead (DI Bob Valentine #3)(41)

‘He might think that, Phil. But rest assured he’ll soon be dispossessed of that notion . . . Did Keirns and Gowan see each other on the way in?’

‘Yes indeed. Booked them in one after the other. It was a bit like that scene in The Good, The Bad and The Ugly. You know the one, when Clint’s watching the spurs at the door and the ugly one comes in through the window.’

Valentine grinned. He was content that, so far anyway, things had gone to plan. ‘I hope Garry Keirns got the surprise of his life.’

‘To be honest, sir, I couldn’t tell whether he was surprised, stunned or just bloody furious. He’s a chancy customer, that one.’

‘All the more reason to be careful. We need to keep our wits about us because if Keirns senses any weakness, he’ll exploit it.’

‘Like a rat in a maze, he’s too dumb to know he’s in a maze but just smart enough to sniff his way out, given half a chance.’

‘Then we don’t give him the chance,’ said the DI. ‘Right, let’s go to work. Phil, you and Sylvia can get the rundown on the farm purchase from Gowan. I want any statement signed and sworn and admissible in court, so explain the laws of perjury very clearly to him. When DS McAlister appears, we’ll make a start on the rat.’





26

Garry Keirns sat with his arms stretched out in front of him, his fingers drumming on the tabletop. When DI Bob Valentine and DS McAlister entered the interview room Keirns started to raise his hands, rubbing his wrists in animated fashion.

‘I should be doing you for police brutality,’ he bleated.

‘Shut it, Garry. I’m in no mood to listen to any more of your pissing and whining.’

Keirns’s features slumped into his face like he had been hit by a sudden gale. The fingers on his hands balled into fists and sunk beneath the line of the table. He was staring at the melamine surface when the DI slapped down a piece of white A4 paper composed of dense, closely typed words. ‘Read it,’ said Valentine.

Keirns eased himself forward and perched over the paper; he read only a few lines before sinking back in his chair.

‘I’ve read it before.’

‘Oh, you recognise your glowing reference, do you? I didn’t.’

‘What do you mean by that?’

‘I mean what I say, Garry. I might have thought you’d written it for yourself if I didn’t know you struggled with joined-up writing, never mind typing.’

He shook his head. ‘It’s a genuine reference, I can assure you of that.’

‘I’m sure it is. A genuine reference on genuine headed notepaper, by a genuine Member of Parliament. The only thing that’s not genuine is the substance. I know you, Garry, and you’re a dodgy wee scrote – nothing like the pillar of the community described in this letter.’ Valentine snatched back the paper and proceeded to roam the room, reading and grinning to himself.

Keirns sat silently, breathing slowly through his gaping mouth.

‘Nothing to say for yourself, Garry?’

‘Like what?’

‘Like how you came by the support of an MP? And remember I’ve seen your rap sheet.’

‘What does it matter, the MP’s dead now.’

‘I know Andy Lucas is dead. I checked the guy out, or should say I’m still in the process of checking him out, but what I have found out makes for some interesting reading.’

Keirns stooped in his chair and faced the DI. He seemed to be fighting off an accusation that he’d imagined himself. ‘I ran respectable community groups – I was praised for my work by many people. You can’t try and blacken my name just because it suits you, Detective.’

‘Yes, you ran boys’ groups, football, cricket, that kind of thing. But, Garry, who said anything about blackening your name?’

‘That’s what’s coming.’ He folded his arms and sat stiffly, as if waiting for more serious confrontation. ‘I can feel it.’

Valentine returned to the table and removed a chair for himself. When he sat down, his voice had softened. ‘Are you referring to the rumours about Andy Lucas after he died?’

‘I don’t listen to tittle-tattle.’

‘But you must have read the papers when they were full of that Columba House business. There were four men convicted on sex offences against twenty-nine Columba boys.’

‘All rubbish.’

‘One of the rapists was the school’s master, Garry. You must have known the man.’

‘What are you trying to say?’

‘They jailed those men, Garry. And they closed the school.’

‘I know that. It was my school too, but I’d left the place years earlier.’

‘Six years earlier. But you didn’t go far, did you?’

‘I went to the farm. You know that.’

Valentine eased back in his chair. He was enjoying watching the pressure mounting on Keirns. ‘I know lots of things, Garry. Some of them I hear from people, though, and I just don’t know if they’re telling me the truth.’

Keirns’s eyes flared. ‘What are you on about?’

‘I hear your MP friend committed suicide, about the time of the Columba House trials. I hear that some folk thought he was going to be added to the list of child rapists.’