Summoning the Dead (DI Bob Valentine #3)(54)

‘The dish?’

‘The little metal dish at the door, where we put the keys for the house. It rattled – still does – when I was close to it. She told me it was Rory, just letting me know he was there.’

Valentine nodded. He wasn’t sure how to absorb the information.

Marie continued, ‘It scared me a little, at first. But it’s a comfort now. Do you understand?’

‘Of course.’

‘Yes. I know you do, Mr Valentine. I saw it in your eyes too.’ She smiled, a thin, gentle smile. ‘Thank you for finding my boy.’

Colin returned from the toilet and sat down beside the others. He was coughing into his fist as the DI drew the folder closer to them on the low table.

‘I have some photographs I’d like to show you,’ he said.

‘Won’t we see him?’ said Colin.

‘Not today. I’m afraid that won’t be possible right away.’

The Stevensons started to grip each other like the night before. ‘What do you have to show us, Detective?’ said Colin.

Valentine opened the folder and placed some of the photographs on the table. They were the pictures taken by the SOCOs and the lab staff of the evidence retrieved from the murder scene.

The leather satchel. The rosary. A Sekonda watch. Black training shoes. A Spiderman comic. There were more items in the file, but the detective was aware of the Stevenson’s change in demeanour.

Marie reached out for the picture of the satchel and withdrew her shaking hand. She touched her mouth and then buried her head in her husband’s shoulder.

Colin nodded. ‘These are our boy’s.’

‘Are you sure?’ said Valentine.

‘We picked out that watch for his birthday. I can still see his face when he put it on for the first time. It was just a silly little thing from Woolworth’s . . . That’s his rosary – his mother put it there, in the satchel every morning . . . Rory was Spiderman daft – there’d been a film on the television. You know how kids get. Another five minutes and he’d have been on to Batman or something else.’

Marie started to sob heavily now, her shoulders jerking up and down with each cry. Colin put his arm around his wife. ‘Will that be all, sir?’

‘Yes. Thank you.’ He picked up the pictures and shuffled them back into the folder.

Colin motioned Marie on to her feet.

The DI watched them struggle to the door, walking like a wounded beast, bound in misery. Valentine saw the couple back to the car park and offered to drive them to Cumnock but was rebuffed.

‘Let us know when we can see Rory,’ said Colin.

‘I will.’





35

As he entered the incident room Valentine felt his shoulders tightening. The tension in the room was palpable, as if the temperature had been increased. As he looked around he caught sight of DS Donnelly at the photocopier and DS McAlister sitting at a desk, tapping the face of his watch. Everything appeared normal, and then his attention fell on the large windows of his corner office where the chief super was standing over a demure-looking DS McCormack.

As the DI entered his office McCormack turned away, crossing one leg over the other and beginning to delicately massage her knee. She looked awkward in the ensuing silence.

‘Ah, Bob, were your ears burning you?’ said CS Martin. ‘We were just discussing you, but never mind, we can get back to that when you’re out of the room.’

Valentine didn’t move for the bait.

McCormack rose. ‘I have some things to chase up.’ She left the room, closing the door behind her.

‘Take a seat, Bob,’ said Martin.

‘I’ll stand, if you don’t mind.’

‘Oh, I don’t mind at all what you do. Or perhaps what I should say is I don’t mind what you do so long as it’s not splashed over the front pages of the newspapers.’

The DI eased himself on to the window ledge. ‘I was waiting for this.’

‘Waiting for what?’

‘The ceremonial dressing down. Look, Freddie Gowan went to the papers because he’s losing money on that bloody through road. I can’t account for that kind of narrow-minded vindictiveness.’

Martin turned for the desk and snatched up a copy of the Daily Record. ‘Yes, here we are . . . “The police are clueless, clutching at straws, pulling in myself and the former owner of the property, Mr Keirns, and making us spend a day waiting to be interviewed about nothing”.’

Valentine squirmed. ‘I recognise Freddie’s quote.’

Martin threw down the paper. It slid off the desk with the force of the move. ‘And unfortunately I recognise what he’s bloody talking about, Bob.’

‘Oh come on. That’s unfair.’

‘Is it? Well, how about this one then?’ She picked up the Scottish edition of the Express. ‘“The police removed an old oil drum containing the bodies of two little boys they found on my land. It’s a tragedy, but why aren’t they doing anything about it? That’s the real reason I’ve spoken out because people have the right to know.”’

The DI started to gnaw on his lower lip.

‘Nothing to say, Bob?’ asked Martin. ‘No explanation for that? Did you just disseminate the case details far and wide?’