Summoning the Dead (DI Bob Valentine #3)

‘Who’s that?’


‘Garry Keirns. Small-time local scrote from Cumnock who I’m sure knows more about these murders than he’s letting on.’

‘He looks like he’s ready for the rack.’

‘He’s a very cocky lad, and he has some pretty heavyweight backers.’

Martin turned away from the window. There were two black PVC chairs in front of her. She sat down and indicated the empty one. ‘I’ve been over the case files with Phil and Ally. They seem confident, verging on energised, if that’s the right word.’

Valentine lowered himself into the chair; the cushion wheezed beneath him. ‘They’re not all corrupt bastards on my team.’

The chief super placed her hands in her lap and frowned. ‘I spoke to the chief constable again. We both realise that we owe you an apology.’

‘I take it you mentioned my request to transfer to the chief?’

‘He was as shocked as I was – possibly even more so.’

The DI checked himself – his conscience was pressing. ‘I was a little full on when we spoke earlier. Can I return the apology?’

‘I’m glad you’ve calmed down now, Bob.’ Martin fixed her gaze on the detective. ‘Look, I understand what you’re going through. I know you think I’m a bloody pen-pusher, but I see the challenges you’re facing here. It can’t be easy. I mean the case itself is bad enough without it being from the town you grew up in . . . And I heard about the funeral.’

‘That’s the least of my worries now. My old man knew Sandy a long time ago.’

‘If you’d like to take some time, Bob, the chief constable can bring somebody else in.’

‘No. That’s not what I want.’

‘Neither of us support a transfer – it’s a non-starter. You’re too valuable to the squad, and there’s nobody ready to take over.’

‘DS McCormack’s ready.’

‘Jesus, Bob, she’s only come on board. How would Phil and Ally and the others respond to that?’

‘They’re police officers – they’re used to having their noses put out of joint. And anyway, since when were the delicate feelings of the troops a consideration of the top brass? If that was the case Jim Prentice would have had his own squad by now.’

The chief super raised her hands in a gesture of resignation. She rose from her seat and headed for the door. Her temperament seemed to have altered as she turned and spoke to Valentine. The confidence was back in her voice. ‘We’ve decided not to proceed with the public-relations secondment.’

‘You both seemed pretty sure of this Stubbs woman the last time we spoke.’

‘Priorities change, Bob.’

‘Indeed they do.’

She closed the door firmly behind her.

As he tried to digest the conversation he’d just had with Martin, the detective found himself questioning his earlier judgement. Had he acted out of anger? That was never a good position to make a decision from. Had he been too close to his feelings for Clare and the girls when he requested a transfer? He didn’t know. What he did know was that the about-turn by the chiefs had restored some of his pride, and that alone was enough to bolster some of his worth as a police officer.

The sudden confusion wouldn’t help, and he knew that Martin was smart enough, or cunning enough, to play to his emotions. With Chief Constable Greaves backing her, she would feel confident enough of getting her own way, but Valentine knew the final word would be his – even if it meant quitting the force and walking away with nothing. He packed his thoughts on the transfer away – he could return to them when the case was no longer his main priority. Right now he had the interrogation of Garry Keirns to think about and just how Freddie Gowan would react to being pulled into the station.

The DI returned to the incident room and stood before the notes and photographs covering the whiteboard. The case was in a state of confusion – much of what they had was no more than a muddle of disparate facts. There was no common element, no core of related data to draw upon. He wondered if the task was beyond him – did the length of time that had elapsed since the crime had occurred make a solution impossible?

Valentine dipped his head before the board and started rubbing the back of his neck. Tension was creeping in now, along with doubt, and neither were welcome. He snapped upright, checked around the room to see if his look of defeat had been recorded but all eyes were down – he had got away with it this time, but he knew his doubts would need to be fended off with more resolve in future.

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