‘Two things happened in that moment. First, Father Livingston stopped, for a moment, shocked that he’d been discovered. Second, the janitor closed the door over and the attack continued. It was like drowning and then seeing a hand reached out to save you, only to discover that hand was a piece of seaweed floating on the surface of the water. He watched, Sergeant Colyear. He watched until the priest was finished. And can you guess what happened the next time Father Livingston pulled me into that small room?’
It was hard to hear, for so many reasons. I was struggling to believe I was in this situation. ‘I’m guessing Mr Bradley had a front row seat,’ I said.
There was more rustling, and again the sound of him sipping on something. ‘I’ve never quite understood what he got out of it. The janitor, I mean, not the priest. He never touched me. Shit, he never even touched himself, as far as I know. Every time it happened – and it happened many times, Sergeant Colyear – he stood there and watched. What do you think of that?’
Alyson looked at me and shrugged.
‘I think you were the victim of a couple of seriously sick fuckers, Mr Halfpenny. But what I’m wondering is how this very unfortunate sequence of events leads to the murder of a child?’
There was a long pause, more buffeting sounds coming through the speaker. Perhaps this question had upset him? He seemed to be moving around. ‘You said you saw Mr Bradley recently, Sergeant Colyear?’
‘Yes.’
‘How would you describe him?’
‘Uh, I don’t know. Ill? Pathetic? Sad?’
‘And if I’d cut his eyes out, all he would be was dead. You said it yourself, I’m the victim here.’ There was a snap in his voice, angry and impatient. Kate was pushing the palms of her hands out urging me to ease up.
‘If it’s justice you’re looking for, I can help with that. I can make sure they pay for what they did.’
There was the laughter again. A cackle, it could only be described as. I could feel my skin tighten, retract all over my body. ‘Oh, where were you all those years ago, Sergeant? No, you can’t help me. The police can’t help me, and the truth is, I don’t need any help. But you don’t need to worry. There will be one more and then it will all be over. That I promise you. When the time comes, I will post a letter. In that letter will be my thoughts and, most importantly, where you can find me. I won’t cause you any problems, I’ll already be dead and this will all be over.’
The line cut off as soon as he spoke his last word. The dead tone whined out of the speaker until Kate reached over and cut it off with the touch of a button. The room erupted into a dozen conversations.
‘All right, people, settle down. I want you at your jobs, briefing in ten minutes. Scott?’ she called over my head. I turned to see the officer with headphones shaking his head. ‘Thought as much.’ She turned her eyes to me. ‘He called this morning. At first, we didn’t know if it was legit or some fucking crackpot, but he insisted on talking to the officers who had gone to his house. We sat Alyson down and when he asked where the other officer was and she replied that she’d been on her own, he claimed that we were lying and that he would call back at this specific time and that any more lies would not be good for us. He had a camera by the kitchen window you see. Motion triggered and quite untraceable. That is when your name came forward, Sergeant. Reluctantly,’ she said and lowered her eyes at the chastened Alyson. ‘Who do you report to?’
‘Inspector Reynolds, ma’am. He oversees Community Division in the East.’
‘I’ll get in contact with him today. I’m going to tell him you’ve been seconded to this investigation, but be under no illusion that this is actually the case. I want you on a lead in case our man gets back in touch and he wants to speak you, and so you can’t fuck with my investigation any further, that’s all. You will stay by Alison’s side and you will be available at a moment’s notice. When we have Michael Halfpenny in custody you will be handed over to professional standards. Is any of that in the slightest part fuzzy? Unclear? Ambiguous?’
‘No, ma’am,’ I said.
‘Good. Now off you fuck, the pair of you. Scott, over here with me.’
We vacated Kate’s desk and Alyson led me over to her own, blissfully out of earshot of the boss.
‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered. ‘I had no choice.’
‘I know you didn’t. Don’t apologise, I’ve only myself to blame,’ I said. I sat, breathing hard, trying to get my head around everything that had just happened, but feeling dizzy and a little sick. ‘Do you really think she’s going to have me fired and hit with criminal charges?’
The look on Alyson’s face was not what I was hoping for. ‘I’ve never known her to mince her words. If she says she’s going to do something …’ she gave a shrug and patted my knee. ‘End of the day, it’s up to professional standards to make a case against you, not her. Try not to think about it just now. Although I think it’s unfair. If you hadn’t interfered, we would be weeks behind this guy. I think she’s more embarrassed than anything else.’
The meeting opened with Kate giving everything they had so far on the suspect, if he should even be referred to as such, given the overwhelming amount of evidence against him. Even though I was told to stick to Alyson, I felt like an intruder. Some of the looks I was getting from the suits told me they felt the same, especially since the majority of those in the room were standing around Kate’s desk while I was sat in a chair.
She stood and addressed the room. ‘Michael Halfpenny. Forty-two years old. Father unknown, mother died when he was an infant and was then placed in the care of the Church until he turned sixteen. Then there is a big fucking gap which I want filled. Cut to today he works for a small computer repairs outfit in Gorgie. Those of you who came in later may be unaware that we attended this address this morning with a warrant only to be told he hasn’t been seen by staff in many months, with the assumption that he quit. While we were there, what we did find parked up on the street outside was a white van emblazoned with the company logo: a broken computer next to a bag of tools. It’s being turned over by SOCO as we speak but I’d bet my left testicle that it’s our vehicle. After we’re done here, I’m meeting with top brass and we’re circulating this force wide.
‘We have a suspect who has informed us he has one more target. I want ideas on who that might be as well as where our suspect might be found, and it needs to happen seriously fucking fast. I’m expecting pressure for us to release this to the press but will resist as long as I can, otherwise all we’ll be dealing with will be false sightings and I want this manhunt led from the inside out, not the other way around.’
Kate then broke the investigation team into two parts. One, to look at the suspect himself – this included Alyson. The second was to work on the next victim, with the team looking most specifically at staff at the school and those close to them, the feeling being Michael Halfpenny’s sick tactic of going after someone by attacking someone they loved would continue.
Sitting at this table I had the strangest sensation. I was clearly on my way out of the police, and I would have to consider everything that came with that. Yet, working on this case, I had never felt more firmly inside. As worried as I was about what came after, to be at the beating heart of such an investigation was no less intoxicating.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Command and Control
The shop was called Tynecastle Technology, taking its name from the stadium a few hundred yards away, home of Heart of Midlothian FC.
The maroon façade of the shop was tired, the boxes of graphics cards and desktop units in the window filmed with dust. The place would have been unremarkable but for the blue and white police tape cordoning the entire building off.
I felt like a spare wheel as I entered behind Alyson and her colleague DS Cunningham who’d had very little to say to me on the journey to the west of the city. It didn’t help that I was still in jeans and T-shirt, behind these suits, albeit Cunningham looked like he’d slept in his
suit, as ill-fitting and wrinkled as it was.
‘We’re looking for the owner, Mr Dumitru,’ Cunningham said to the man behind the counter. The door was open and I’d followed into the dimly lit store, sparsely stocked with computer components and accessories. I guessed the main business was the repair side of things. It was hard to see the man we were here to speak to. My eyes needed to adjust from brightness of the street to the gloom in here. What little light there was in the shop seemed to clouded by dust hanging in the air.
‘That’s me. Hey, when can I re-open? That tape outside is killing my business,’ the man had an accent, Eastern European, but there was enough Edinburgh in there too to suggest he’d been in the city for many years.
‘Any minute now, Mr Dumitru. I’m just waiting for clearance. Scenes of crime are all done, so we’ll get you back open soon. Meantime I just had a few questions, if you don’t mind?’ the DS said.
SOCO would have been called in to corroborate prints taken from Halfpenny’s house and the crime scenes. Perhaps also to see if there was any evidence that might link the device at Halfpenny’s home to the shop. Unlikely, I thought.
‘I don’t mind. You know I got a call from the newspaper, they’re asking why the police have closed my shop.’
‘What did you tell them?’ said Alyson.
‘Just what I was told to. That they should speak to you.’
‘That’s good. Thank you. And if there are any more calls, please continue to say that – at least for now,’ said Cunningham.
‘You mean don’t mention Mick?’
‘Yes. It’s very important we speak to Michael, Mick, and interest from the papers doesn’t help at this stage,’ Cunningham continued.
‘This is to do with the thing they found in Portobello, huh? I saw the news.’
‘Is there anything you can tell us about that?’ said Alyson.
‘No, nothing. I only mention because I know Mick lives out there somewhere and then you come here asking about him.’
‘We need to speak to Mick urgently. When my colleague came here this morning and collected his identification card from you, you said you would check to see if you could find any more information. Did you have any luck?’ said Cunningham.
‘No, I did look. All I have is the phone number I already gave. I’ll admit, his employment here is a bit … unofficial. Will that mean I could be in trouble?’ I could see the man better now. He was bald, but at the same time fuzzy – that is to say, his dark beard and chest hair, sticking out through a shirt unbuttoned much too far, were making up for the lack on top.
‘No, Mr Dumitru. We’re not interested in that at all. Just in finding Mick urgently. Are you aware of any friends he had? Did he ever mention anyone at all?’
‘No. Not that I remember. I really don’t know too much about him.’
‘How did he come to work here in the first place?’ said Alyson.
‘I put a card in the window and a message on our website. He was a customer before, used to come in to buy components, RAM upgrades, and I did him a deal on a motherboard and CPU. He spotted the card and I knew already that he was building his own system so must know computers pretty well.’
‘The van we took this morning. He drove it often?’ asked Cunningham.
‘I don’t know about often. Sometimes we get calls for repairs in people’s houses and any online orders in the Edinburgh area I’d ask him to deliver. Sometimes he took the van home. I didn’t mind.’
‘Again, Mr Dumitru, you’re not in any trouble, but according to our records he doesn’t hold a driving licence. Did you ever check with him about that?’ said Alyson.
Despite the preceding reassurance, Mr Dumitru looked embarrassed. He thought about his answer before giving it: ‘You know, I never asked to see his licence. I’m very sorry. I asked him if he drove and he said yes. I never thought to check.’
‘Don’t worry. But does he have access to any other vehicles? How did he get to work?’ asked Alyson.
‘Bus. And no, I don’t remember seeing him drive anything else.’
‘How long had he been working here?’ asked Cunningham.
‘On and off for five or six years.’
‘On and off?’ said Alyson.
The man shrugged, ‘Business is good and then it is not good and then picks up again. He understood I couldn’t always use him.’
‘What did he do when he wasn’t picking up hours here?’
‘I don’t know for sure. I think he just scraped by with whatever work he could find, but I don’t know where. He wasn’t the easiest to work with, but he’s excellent with computers.’ There was a ping and a clunk as he opened his till.
‘He wasn’t easy to work with? What does that mean, Mr Dumitru?’
‘He’s always arguing. Always he has something to say about something.’ The man screwed his face as he said this, counting notes from the drawers of the till.
‘About anything in particular? What did he argue about?’ said Alyson.
Mr Dumitru snickered. ‘He’d argue about what time of day it was. Anything at all. Football, politics, religion, immigration, bloody Brexit. You name it, he would have something to say. More than once I told him, don’t come back. My brother, he also works with the computers, hates him. Told me not to give him more work. But, Mick, he was so good with the tech and so I would call him back and he’d return as if nothing had ever been said.’
‘What did he have to say about religion?’ asked Alyson.
‘What didn’t he say? Hates religion. Last time I saw him he was shouting at my brother. We had been talking about my nephew’s first communion. We were going to have a celebration and Mick, he loses it. Talking about pushing religion on children. He got really nasty and I told him, get out.’
‘How long ago was this?’ said the DS.
‘Ages. Like six months maybe.’
‘Can you be sure?’ said Alyson.
‘I can make a call to my brother?’
‘Would you please?’ asked Alyson.
Mr Dumitru disappeared into the back, a conversation could be heard, but I didn’t understand a word.
The shop owner returned, holding his phone with one hand and covering the screen with the other. ‘My brother says middle of March. His boy had his communion in April, and the argument was a few weeks before.’
I thought back to the call Martin made that had pulled me into this thing. That was middle of March. Seventeenth I think.
‘Does your brother remember what day of the week this argument took place?’ I asked. The man looked at me as if he’d only just noticed I was there. DS Cunningham looked less than impressed.
Mr Dumitru went back to the phone, not having hung up yet. They talked for nearly a minute, appearing to be debating. ‘Tuesday. Definitely a Tuesday. We’re closed on a Monday and so we’re always busy catching up with things and I remember, now that we’re talking about it, that I wished Mick had stormed out on a less busy day,’ he called in our direction. He then said a few more words to his brother then hung up the call.
‘And you haven’t spoken to him since?’ said the DS.
The man shook his head. ‘I called him a few times. There was plenty work, but first time the phone rang out and second time it didn’t connect at all. I figured he’d come back when enough time had passed.’
The DS clapped his hands together in a gesture of completion. ‘Thanks for your time, Mr Dumitru. A colleague will need to take a statement at some point over the next few days. And I’ll make a call to my boss just now, see if we can’t get this place opened up this afternoon.’
‘What are you thinking?’ Alyson asked me as we stopped for coffee. DS Cunningham waited in the car while we went inside. It was already feeling like a long day, despite it only being just after three.
‘About what?’
‘The day of the week question.’
I laughed. ‘You don’t want to know.’
‘Creepy old man stuff?’
I n
odded. ‘Yeah. I was just thinking about the point at which Michael Halfpenny decides to go on his spree. Was this conversation at work enough to send him over the edge? Was that the moment these vile thoughts became action? I just thought it might be interesting if that’s the point we get the phone call. Do me a favour, check the calendar in your phone. Was the seventeenth of March a Tuesday?’
She rolled her eyes, but checked anyway. ‘Yes,’ she said in a tired tone. ‘Coincidence.’ We shuffled forward in the queue.
‘Almost certainly. Hey, tell me about what happened when I left you outside that house?’
There was a pause in the conversation as she placed our order. We took our place over by the collection point to wait.
‘It was a shitshow. First Kate turned up and I wasn’t sure what to say to her. I cobbled together some nonsense about how I came to this guy’s house. I point out the suspicious stuff in the hall. She takes one look and calls someone, I don’t know who, and within an hour the whole street is cordoned off, incident tent, the lot. And the fucking army are there. Bomb disposal guys are shooing us out of the place and then we’re standing around for hours before they disarm what was apparently a pretty crude set-up. The door was locked, but a trigger goes off if the door is forced and, you know …’
‘Boom.’
‘Right. Anyone going in there would have been hit with a homemade incendiary device. There was enough petrol stored in the barrel to have burnt down the homes either side. We get the all-clear and by then we have a warrant, based entirely on my bullshit, and we go in. The place is all but empty. I mean the tv is there, dishes in the cupboards, but the bed is bare, no clothes to be found. Neighbours hadn’t seen him in months— thanks,’ she said as we were handed our drinks.
Into the Dark Page 26
