‘Mr Gowan?’
‘Yes, Freddie Gowan.’ He was heavyset with a broad face and a black moustache. His dark eyes took in Valentine with an upward and downward glance that suggested he either didn’t rate the detective’s appearance or was irked by the intrusion.
‘DI Valentine.’ He presented his warrant card. ‘I believe someone from my squad has been in touch with you.’
‘I don’t answer the phones.’
Valentine put away his wallet. ‘I’m sure you don’t. But now that I have you here, perhaps you could answer some questions for me.’
Gowan shrugged. He pointed to the map on the car and his colleague started to fold it away. ‘I’ll try.’
‘This investment, has it been on the cards for any length of time?’
‘A few years. I think we purchased the site in 2014.’ He looked at the man beside him, folding the plans, and received a confirming nod.
‘Looks to be quite a lot of work. A substantial investment is it?’
‘I don’t undertake any other kind, Inspector,’ said Gowan.
‘And when you take on a project like this, how does it come about? By that I mean, you’re based in Glasgow – how do you judge a place like rural Ayrshire to be ripe for development?’
‘Sometimes it’s about keeping your eye out for the main chance, but when you’re a little more established the opportunities come knocking too.’
‘And on this occasion, did opportunity knock?’
‘I can’t quite recall.’
Valentine reached out to the roof of the Jaguar and brushed away a stray mud speck. ‘That’s very interesting. You see, the former owner of Ardinsh Farm up there, he says you more or less made him an offer he couldn’t refuse.’
Gowan put his hands in the pockets of his overcoat. ‘I really don’t remember.’
Valentine nodded and then turned back the way he had come. ‘If you remember, Mr Gowan, perhaps you’d be good enough to call the station and let my team know.’ He halted. ‘It’s a murder we’re investigating, by the way.’
‘It’s got nothing to do with me. I just bought the land. I didn’t look for any bodies first.’
‘Of course you didn’t. I’m merely trying to give you an indication of the gravity of the situation we’re dealing with here. And, of course, an explanation for why I’ll need to ask you and your men to vacate the immediate area for the time being.’
‘You can’t be serious.’
‘Like I said, murder’s a very serious business, Mr Gowan.’
16
DI Bob Valentine stood outside the chief superintendent’s office, worrying the thick, brown, industrial carpet tiles so much that he guessed a static shock was imminent. He put the nerves down to the conversation he had had with Clare that morning. Much as he sympathised with his wife, and wanted to do his best for her and his family, wanted to please everyone and subjugate any considerations he might have for himself, he knew she was wrong to put him in this position.
He understood his wife’s reasoning; he could even see that she had his best interests at heart, but he knew she hadn’t thought about the wider consequences. He didn’t, by this stage, care about the thousands of pounds they were in debt over the new extension and Clare’s credit cards. They were just numbers on pieces of paper; he was over the initial shock of being poorer now than when he started his career and had come to live with it. After all, wasn’t the entire country broke? Save for a few well-heeled bankers and those at the centre of power, everyone was struggling.
The thing that really worried Valentine was the job; especially the case of the two murdered schoolboys he was currently in charge of. He knew his health was fragile, both mental and physical, and he knew that was where Clare’s focus was, but he also knew there was no one else on the force that could do what he did.
Valentine’s experience had brought him to an understanding of the job that he was sure few shared. He didn’t express this egotistically, or in any way that might indicate he had a higher regard for himself than others. What he did know, what existed at the core of him, was his self. He was a hunter – that was why he was here; there was nothing else he knew with such certainty. He was the one tasked with treading the thin blue line the papers liked to talk about. Of course there were others like him, but it was a finite supply. Who would do his job if he left? Who would find justice for those two little boys then?
He was preparing to knock as the door swung open. Standing there was the chief super and a figure so rarely seen that his appearance was a surprise to the DI.
‘Ah, Bob, we were just coming to get you,’ said CS Martin. ‘Perfect timing.’
Chief Constable Bill Greaves extended an open hand towards Valentine. ‘Hello again, Bob.’
‘Sir.’ He took the hand. It felt cold and limp.