The group emitted a low titter.
DS McCormack continued, ‘Gowan’s Glasgow born and bred, and as far as I can ascertain – and I think I’ve been very rigorous – this is his first job in Ayrshire, certainly his first major project here under Blairgowan.’
‘And the other bloke?’ said Valentine.
‘Yes, Pete Blair’s an interesting character. He’s basically an accountant, made a lot of money by the looks of things and likes to spread it around. He’s a silent partner though, so isn’t actively involved in the day-to-day running, which he leaves to Gowan.’
‘What other lines is he in?’
‘You name it, really. He’s got a chain of pound stores and substantial interests in more than a few golf courses. But again no Ayrshire connections. I don’t think he’s even visited the site in Cumnock.’
‘I’m finding it hard to see them in the frame,’ said DS Donnelly.
‘Me too, Phil,’ said McCormack. ‘And that’s where I am with it. They’re both legit, and Blairgowan’s a profitable business with its taxes all up to date. In this day and age, that’s a rarity surely.’
Valentine approached the board, holding the photograph to his chest. ‘I won’t change my initial opinion of Freddie Gowan,’ he said. ‘I still think he’s a cowboy, but if we banged up every builder that was overambitious who’d have put my new kitchen in?’
Abrupt laughter burst through the gathering. ‘Right, and to change the mood entirely,’ said Valentine, pinning up the new photograph, ‘take a very close look at this, and my apologies for the bluntness of the content.’
‘God, do we have to look?’ said McCormack.
‘I’m sorry,’ said Valentine. ‘But I’m afraid this is what we’re dealing with. Please take a moment to think about the kind of beast we’re after.’
28
The photograph that Valentine had pinned on the whiteboard was positioned higher than the other scenes of crime shots. It loomed over the pathology pictures of the mummified corpses of the boys and was higher than the horrific first find of the open barrel.
The murder squad stared in reverent silence, at first seeming to ascertain whether the child in the picture was one of the victims. The man, who was positioned most prominently in the scene, was headless though his appearance gave odd hints to his identification.
The child was merely a boy, perhaps ten years old at the most. His face, contorted in pain, sat beneath a blond fringe, cut in a straight line. It was the kind of haircut Valentine recalled all the boys having from those days – a pudding-basin cut – and the sight of it disturbed old memories.
The man, who seemed tall even without his head, was in office attire. Blue pinstripe trousers, slackened at the waist, and a paler blue shirt with open white collars, a red paisley-print tie looped round his neck. His right hand, thrust forward and gripping the boy’s thin shoulder displayed a gold signet ring on the smallest finger. The picture would have been disturbing enough with only the boy’s agony showing on his face, but the confirmation of an adult engaged in rape made the image even more harrowing.
‘Can we take that down now?’ said DS McCormack.
Valentine nodded. ‘If you’ve all seen it.’
Heads nodded around the table. The temperature of the room seemed to have dropped.
‘As I said, I’m sorry to have to show you that,’ said Valentine.
‘Where did we get this?’ said McAlister.
‘Bernie’s team found it under the floorboards at Ardinsh. It’s just in, along with a bag of about fifty bookie’s pens matching the one we retrieved from the oil drum.’
McAlister snatched his words. ‘Well, you know what they were bloody well for!’
‘Bribing kids is my best bet,’ said Valentine.
‘Paedo bastards,’ said McAlister. He shook his head and returned the DI’s gaze.
‘OK, Ally, settle down. I know this is hard for everyone – these cases are always emotional – but we need to remain rational and logical if we’re to get a result here.’
DS Donnelly had turned over the picture again. ‘This ring’s got markings on it.’
‘I saw that,’ said Valentine.
‘I think we can get the boffins to blow that up.’
‘We’ll give it a go. I’ve asked for prints on the bookie’s pens. With any luck we’ve got Keirns’s dabs all over them. Which reminds me – he’s still downstairs. Can someone request a thirty-two-hour custody extension in light of this new evidence?’
DS McCormack nodded. ‘I’ll get on that with the chief super, sir.’
‘Thanks, Sylvia. I don’t think you’ll have any bother, Dino’s still tiptoeing around us,’ said Valentine. ‘Who’s up next then? Phil, what can you tell us about your dealings with Columba House?’