Rennie nodded. ‘Then buggered off to Spain, never to be seen or, more importantly, heard from again.’
The DI sensed a note of bitterness, of unfinished business. For the next few moments he assured Rennie of his desire to get to the truth about the two murdered boys he had unearthed in a barrel, of how he had met the Stevensons, Keirns, Fallon and of his suspicions about Lucas and what went on at Columba House. The mention of the retired detective’s former case seemed to sour him further.
‘And you think they’re going to let you solve this, do you?’ said Rennie.
‘How can anybody stop me?’
He started to laugh. ‘You’ve really no idea, have you?’
‘Perhaps you should fill me in.’
He returned to the spluttering laugh. ‘You mean before they do?’
‘Who’s they?’
The laughter subsided. Rennie straightened himself in his chair and spoke slowly. ‘Let me tell you a little story about the days when I sat where you are sitting now.’
‘Go on.’
‘The week before Pollock was brought in I had a very interesting chat with my chief constable, and do you know what he said? He told me that, sometimes, investigations like this one do not end. I was flabbergasted, I didn’t know what he was on about, and then he explained himself. He said sometimes investigations do not reach a logical conclusion, ever, and if this case falls into that category no one will question it again.’
Rennie let the remark sit between them for a moment and then returned to his subject. ‘Bob, when I heard that, it didn’t have the intended impact on me.’
‘You were supposed to shut up.’
‘I know that, and you know that. But for some reason I ignored the warning, I just carried on as if nothing had happened. In fact, I might even have upped my game a little, started to talk a little too loudly.’
‘How did that play out?’ said Valentine.
‘Pretty much how you’d expect. I saw press stories refuting forensic tests before the lab had even done them. I had witness statements retracted. The machinery was put to work against me.’
‘What were they refuting? What was being hidden?’
‘Everything. You know about Andy Lucas?’
‘You spoke out about his suicide in the papers.’
‘Suicide?’ Rennie spat the word. ‘His neck was broken long before someone arranged for it to go in that noose.’
‘You had evidence?’
‘Of course we did. The skin folds were inconsistent with the angle of the break. The noose only rolled the dead skin on the bone. But none of this was ever reported.’
‘Certainly not after Pollock took over the case.’
‘Started his bloody whitewash you mean.’ Rennie shook his head. ‘What did they get? Four including the master, Healey? There were gangs of them raping boys and we had nigh on sixty boys telling us that.’
‘Only four convictions.’
‘Like I said, a farce. Columba House was a bloody factory supplying those boys on a conveyor belt. They were picked up and passed around like toys, ferried about from hotel to country house . . . It disgusted me. I’ve seen some stuff in this racket, but that really sickened me for life.’
‘Why didn’t you speak out at the time?’ Valentine’s remark sounded like an accusation.
‘How could I by then? Everything they printed in the papers was controlled – it was all run like clockwork. Who’d believe me? Me against the chief constable, against the magistrate and the MPs? It went all the way to the top. They told me that, Bob – the top.’
‘You can talk now.’
‘Do you think the case files even exist now?’
‘You can make a statement, on the record.’
Rennie clamped his teeth shut and exhaled slowly through thinned lips. ‘I did all I could to get those bastards when I was in a position to try. What makes you think anything’s changed?’
‘Times have changed, Den.’
‘No they haven’t. You might think they have because a few big shots have been found out, but that’s all part of the plan, like Healey. Someone has to suffer for the rest to survive. This is going nowhere. Your investigation’s going nowhere, because if it did, we’d have to tear up the world and start again from scratch.’
40
Valentine awoke from disturbing dreams to a reality that seemed every bit as horrific. Clare was gone from his side. She was always an early riser, but he had heard her waken in the small hours and retreat downstairs. At the time, he had thought to follow her, but weary limbs and a heavy head kept him slumped in the bed. He thought again about that now and wondered if he had done the right thing. Like so much else involving his wife, he decided only time would tell.