08 - Murmuring the Judges

by Quintin Jardine

  Skinner laughed out loud. ‘Were you scared she’d walk out of the meeting and accuse me of groping her as well?’

  The young man flushed, and smiled, awkwardly. ‘No, sir, but in this office you can’t be too careful.’

  ‘I know that, son. So just you make sure that the recording system is switched on.’ Crossley looked at him in sudden, shocked surprise. The acting Chief Constable grinned. ‘Gerry, there’s nothing I don’t know about this building. You bear that in mind, and don’t ever think about phoning your stockbroker from in here.’ He pointed to the desk. ‘Especially not through that white telephone over there.’

  By the time the buzzer sounded at three o’clock, Skinner had read his way through all of the papers relating to the cases which he was to hear. He had also changed into uniform, something which made his secretary’s eyebrows rise momentarily as he showed in PC Green and Sergeant Cameron.

  Both men marched into the room stiffly, and stood to attention. ‘At ease, at ease, for Christ’s sake, and take off those bloody hats,’ the DCC burst out. ‘Ewan, you don’t have to come to attention in front of me.

  ‘Sit down both of you. Take one of the comfortable seats over there.’ Sergeant Cameron smiled and nodded. Green seemed, in an instant, as if a weight had been taken from him.

  ‘That’s good, that’s good,’ said Skinner as they settled into the plush, well-upholstered chairs.

  ‘Okay, we all know why we’re here. PC Green . . . it’s Mark, isn’t it . . . Mark, I’ve read the Divisional Commander’s complaint, I’ve read your wife’s statement and I’ve read yours. Is there anything you want to say to me, now you’re here?’

  PC Mark Green gazed across at him, confidence replacing his initial apprehension. He was twenty-eight years old, small for a policeman, but with a wiry strength exuding from him, suggesting that he was someone to be approached with caution.

  ‘Well, sir, really only what’s in my statement, sir.Wendy and me, we had a wee argument; bawling and shouting and that. She threw a plate at me and I lost my temper and hit her. The next thing I knew there were two coppers at the door, two of my mates from the station.

  ‘There was this wee nyaff of a neighbour wi’ them. He’s always had a down on me. Bad family they are; his son’s aye in the jail. If he hadn’t been there, sir, the whole thing would have been sorted on the spot, but since he was, the lads felt that they had to lift me.’

  Skinner nodded, sympathetically. ‘So it’s all a misunderstanding, then?’

  ‘Aye, sir. That’s how I’d put it.’

  ‘Ewan, do you have anything to add?’

  The sergeant shook his head. ‘No, sir. PC Green’s been given the opportunity to say his piece. That’s what I’m here to ensure.’

  ‘Fine. That’s fine.’ The DCC paused. ‘In that event, I hope we can get this sorted quickly and easily. I hear what you say, Mark, and of course, I’ve read your statement. I’ve read your wife’s too. I have to say, there’s nothing in there about flying plates.’

  ‘Well, no, sir. There wouldnae be, would there?’

  ‘No, I suppose not. But you see, I’ve read some other papers too. I’ve read the arrest reports, for example. If the arresting officers were mates of yours . . . well, all I can say is that you should pick your pals more carefully. They seem to have been out to stuff you. They both say that when they arrived, you were in a rage, and Wendy was terrified. They also said that she was bleeding from a cut lip and that her left eye was badly swollen.’ As he looked across at Green, he was still smiling, but nonetheless a palpable feeling of tension had crept into the room. Sergeant Cameron shifted in his seat.

  ‘Okay,’ he went on. ‘We’ve all been in the job for a long time; we all know that arrest reports can read worse than things actually were. But you see, I’ve spoken to the arresting officers. They stand by every word of their account. Still, it’s possible they may have had a grudge against you.’

  He paused again, for longer this time. PC Green sat staring at him, his right fist clenching and unclenching. ‘The trouble is,’ the words burst out suddenly, startling both of the other men, ‘there’s Wendy’s recent medical history. Let’s see, Mark, you’ve been married for going on three years. In that time, she’s been treated on four occasions for domestic accidents, on three of them by her GP and on the other in the Accident and Emergency Department, after she broke her wrist.’

  ‘She fell off a step-ladder!’ the constable protested.

  ‘At midnight? Don’t insult me, Mark.’ He shook his head. ‘Look, I don’t know anything about your wife. She may be an annoying wee so-and-so. She may even have been unfaithful to you. I don’t know, and quite frankly I don’t care. The way all this comes across, it’s clear to a blind man that you are a serial wife-basher.’

  He held Green’s gaze, almost hypnotically, until the other man gave the briefest of nods.

  ‘Good,’ he said, almost gently. ‘So let’s proceed on the basis of honesty. I say to my officers, and I mean it, that what happens in their domestic lives doesn’t affect me, until it affects their operational efficiency.

  ‘But this is different. What you’ve just admitted is criminal behaviour. Even on the basis of one incident, your Divisional Commander was right to bring his complaint. On the basis of five, it was his public duty.’

  The DCC glanced across at Sergeant Cameron. ‘As Ewan will have told you, my powers in this case are pretty wide-ranging. I can reprimand you and enter that on your record. I can reduce in rank . . . irrelevant in this case . . . or I can dock you seniority.

  ‘However, I can’t do any of those things here. If this was an isolated incident, I’d probably dock you three years’ promotion eligibility. It isn’t, though. Constable, you’re supposed to be a protector of the public: in fact, you’re a danger to them. Maybe if Sir James was sitting here, he’d see it differently, but I doubt it. In any event, he isn’t here. I am, and there’s no way I can let you continue in this job.’ As Skinner looked at him, he saw Mark Green begin to shake.

  ‘There are two ways of doing this,’ he continued. ‘I can suspend you and institute dismissal proceedings, right now, or I can accept your resignation. I hope you’ll choose the second way. In fact, I’ve had my secretary prepare a letter for your signature. We’ll honour your full notice period, give you accrued holiday pay, and preserve your pension rights: all that stuff. But you’re out today. You don’t even go back to your nick to pick up your belongings. They’ll be sent on to you.

  ‘Is that acceptable to you? I can’t give you time to think about it, I’m afraid; not in the circumstances.’

  Green sat for a while in silence, trying to come to terms with what Skinner had said. There was a catch in his voice when finally he replied. ‘Yes, sir. I’ll sign the letter.

  ‘About Wendy, sir. She’s all right, really. I should never have got married, that’s all.’

  ‘Are you seeing anyone else?’

  ‘Yes, sir. Someone I knew before I met Wendy. I’ve never stopped seeing her, in fact.’

  Skinner shook his head. ‘Then choose, son. For everyone’s sake, choose.’ He rose to his feet, and the others followed. ‘One thing though. You’re walking out of here with a good chance of finding a new career. I will give you a personal reference based on your performance reports. But if there is ever another call-out to a domestic at your house, you’re done for.

  ‘Understood?’

  ‘Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.’

  Skinner saw the sergeant and the soon to be ex-constable to the door. As soon as it closed behind them, he left the room by the side exit, and made his way down to the headquarters gymnasium.

  He opened his locker and changed into trainers and shorts, then took out a pair of boxing gloves. Slipping them on, he walked over to the heavy punching bag and began to hit it: jabs with his left hand at first, light blows, then shorter, harder-hooking punches, thrown in combinations, rising in speed and ferocity.

  He pounded the bag non-st
op for almost half an hour, ignoring the ache in his swollen right fist, sweat pouring from him, his face contorted with the effort, winding up the session with a huge sweeping left hook which lifted the bag up, and rattled the chains upon which it hung.

  By the time his buzzer sounded to signal the arrival of Sergeant Karen Neville, he was showered and back behind the Chief’s big desk. He stood as she entered . . . followed by DCI Maggie Rose. He looked at his former assistant, a question in his eyes which she answered quickly.

  ‘Good afternoon, sir. You’ll be surprised to see me, I expect. Sergeant Neville asked me if I would come along as her personal representative. She felt she’d like a woman here.’

  ‘Understood; take a seat, both of you, please.’ He showed them to the leather chairs, as Gerry Crossley came in with more coffee. He pointed to the tray as it was set down on the low table. ‘I’ve asked for this just to emphasise that this is an informal meeting.

  ‘Let’s blow out any notion that this is a disciplinary hearing. It’s not. I’ve looked at PC Keenan’s allegation and at your statement, sergeant. I’ve also made inquiries about your accuser. This is a straight situation of your word against his, and nothing I’ve read or been told makes me inclined to find in his favour. So relax, Karen, you’re off the hook on the harassment complaint.’

  The blonde officer looked at him gratefully. ‘Andy was right,’ he thought. ‘She is a looker. Lucky young Sammy.’

  ‘In that case,’ the DCC went on, ‘you may be wondering why I didn’t just cancel the hearing, and let you know of my decision in writing.’

  Sergeant Neville looked at him, but said nothing.

  ‘Well, the fact is, I did think that I had cause to speak to you. You’ll recognise the name Sammy Pye, I think. In fact, I might even say that you’ll be familiar with it.’ In a second, the woman’s face went bright pink. ‘Then there’s Neil McIlhenney. I understand that . . . how do I put it? . . . you made a pass at him at another gathering.’ He glanced at Maggie Rose. By now she was staring at her companion in disapproving astonishment.

  ‘You’ve obviously never met Olive McIlhenney,’ said Skinner, with a chuckle.

  ‘On top of that . . . if I may use the phrase . . . am I misled that your reluctance to have Sergeant Geary act as your Fed. rep. at this meeting might have had something to do with an encounter two or three years back?

  ‘Finally, I haven’t been misinformed, have I, that your former Divisional Commander once gave you a friendly warning about . . . let’s say about fraternising?’

  Staring at the coffee table, Karen Neville shook her head.

  ‘Okay. I don’t want to embarrass you, sergeant, any more than I have to. I’ll say to you what I’ve said to someone else today.Your private life is your own business, within the letter of the law. As the world knows, no one believes that more than I do.

  ‘My point in raising all these things is to bring home to you the fact that young Mr Keenan’s allegation wouldn’t have left the Divisional Commander’s office had it not been for the chat on the station grapevine. I spoke to Sammy Pye, and to McIlhenney. I had to lean on both of them . . . especially Pye . . . to make them confirm anything, and I’m convinced that neither of them has done any bragging.

  ‘Since there were only two parties to these transactions, that rather suggests that you may be to blame yourself for the subsequent gossip.

  ‘Keenan made his allegation, Karen, because he thought it would be believed.’

  The woman spoke for the first time. ‘I had worked that out for myself, sir. It doesn’t make me proud, believe me.’

  ‘I know, I know.’ He smiled at her. ‘The world’s changing, but not to the point at which a lass can behave like a lad and expect the reaction to be the same. Girl Power is no more than a marketing slogan in that respect. It might not be fair, but it’s fact.

  ‘Look, as I said, there are no adverse career consequences from this, but we’d better get you out of Haddington. There’s a vacancy for a sergeant in Special Branch.’

  He flashed the briefest of looks, and grins, at Maggie Rose, just as her eyebrows rose.

  ‘I won’t put you there, of course, not straight from uniform. However, Sergeant McNee, who’s been filling in in DCS Martin’s office, will be moving across. Mr Martin’s happy for you to move into his job. You don’t have any problems about working with Sammy Pye again, do you?’

  ‘No, sir.’

  Skinner smiled broadly. ‘That’s good. Neither does he. In fact, he seemed quite keen on the idea. Just remember, though; in future keep professional and private well separated.’ The smile turned into a laugh. ‘The cupboard in CID’s far too small anyway.’

  37

  The acting Chief Constable looked around the drab meeting room in the Musselburgh Police Station. ‘It’s a fucking awful place this, Andy,’ he said. ‘All that’s missing are a few bloodstains on the walls, or it would pass for a Stasi interrogation centre.

  ‘First thing tomorrow, I’m going to take a look at our renovation programme. If this place isn’t right at the top, I’m going to put it there.’

  Martin laughed. ‘That’s right, Boss. What’s the use of having all that power if you don’t use it? You seem to be settling well into Proud Jimmy’s chair.’

  Skinner shot him a dark frown. ‘Don’t you believe it, mate. I’ve made three decisions today, and I’m almost certain of a fourth. The first was to go to Raglan’s with Pringle and Steele. No way would Jimmy have done that, nor I if I was full-time in the job. Yet if I hadn’t, Stevie would be dead now, and probably Pringle too. Christ, those Russian bastards might have killed everyone in the place.’

  He let out a weary sigh. ‘The second thing I did was to end the career of PC Mark Green. It had to be done, but I hated it, even though I did my best to let the lad go with dignity. Christ, Andy, he even thanked me at the end.

  ‘And the business with Karen Neville, that was as embarrassing for me as it was for her.’ He broke off with a smile. ‘Man, but you should have seen Maggie Rose’s face when she thought I was going to transfer her to Special Branch beside her Mario!’

  ‘Aye,’ Martin responded with feeling. ‘But just you make sure that Alex doesn’t get to hear any of this now that she’s coming to work for me!’

  Skinner put a hand across his mouth. ‘The matter is closed. Neville’s learned her lesson, and she starts with a clean slate.’

  ‘I’ll keep an eye on her and Sammy though, just in case. Anyway, what’s your fourth decision?’

  The DCC stared out of the dirty window. ‘That’s about me, Andy. I’ve just about made up my mind that I don’t want to be Chief; here or anywhere else.’

  ‘What! That’s a bit premature, isn’t it? You’ve only been doing the job for two days.’

  ‘Even so.’ His right index finger stabbed out, pointing towards the street. ‘I belong out there. I belong alongside Dan Pringle and you, and all the other people putting their lives at risk, not stuck in a big office taking run-of-the-mill decisions, and not playing politics with bloody councillors.

  ‘Know what I did with Topham today? I threw her out of my office. She came in whining about the bank robberies, and I just fucking lost it and showed her the door. Jimmy might have the patience to deal with people like her, but I sure as hell don’t.’

  ‘Come on, Bob,’ the DCS protested. ‘Jimmy would have thrown her out too if she’d tried to lecture him about operational matters.’

  ‘No, he wouldn’t. He’d have given her a biscuit and explained to her, very politely, where her role came to an end. Anyway, the woman went on about people stopping her in the street. People in the street haven’t a fucking clue who she is. She was doing the bidding of our old enemy Councillor Maley, and she and I both knew it.’

  He threw his arms in the air. ‘Anyway, it’s not for me, none of it.’

  ‘Mmm,’ said Martin. ‘You say that now. Wait till the time comes: you may have no choice in the matter.’

  ‘I�
��ll always have choice, mate.’

  ‘We’ll see.’ He looked at his watch. ‘What’s keeping the troops? I said six sharp.’

  ‘It’s two minutes before. They’ll be here.’

  As it turned out, less than a minute later, the door opened, and Mackie, McGuire and McIlhenney came into the room.

  ‘Evening, gents,’ said Skinner. ‘Sorry about the surroundings, but this was the most central place we could think of. Let’s try not to be here long.

  ‘Brian, do you want to kick off?’

  Mackie nodded his shiny head. ‘We’ve got the preliminary post-mortem results, sir. Sarah’s hunch was right. There was no water in the lungs. Lord Barnfather died of heart failure. The estimated time of death is around seven on Sunday evening, just as the tide was starting to come in.’

  The DCC whistled softly. ‘The poor terrified old man. What a way to go.’

  ‘I can smell a culpable homicide plea here, Boss,’ said McIlhenney. ‘The defence could say that the guy only tied the old fella up to frighten him, and that when he came back to release him he found him dead. That’s unless it’s a woman, of course.’

  ‘Oh aye, and what’s he or she going to say about the cyanide in Archergait’s jug?’ asked Mackie, with a touch of sarcasm. ‘I was just trying to give him a belly-ache?’

  ‘Where’s the proof that this is the same person?’ the sergeant countered. ‘Even if we make an arrest in this case, there’s no saying that we’ll be able to charge the suspect with Archergait’s murder.’

  Skinner rapped the table. ‘Enough, enough. You may well be right, Neil, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves. We’re nowhere near catching anyone yet, for either crime. Go on, Brian.’