‘We’re in Cumnock, be careful with your pronunciation.’
‘Not that type of miner – though this one did come out the ground.’
Valentine scanned the scene quickly. ‘I take it the doc has been and gone in his usual hyper-efficient manner?’
‘To be fair to him, he didn’t have to do much more than glance inside the oil drum.’
Valentine crouched down towards the hole. He could see the rim of the steel barrel protruding above the earth; long scraping streaks, like teeth marks, had exposed the metal. A steel lid that had obviously once been attached lay at the foot of the drum. Valentine eyed the excavator tracks that sat either side of the hole and assessed that a protruding arm from the digger outside had caused the damage.
As he got closer to the hole, he leaned on the rim of the drum and peered inside.
‘Here,’ said CS Martin. ‘You’ll need this.’ She handed him a thin pen torch.
Valentine shone the torch’s beam into the barrel and flinched. A screaming pain entered the base of his skull and nausea washed over him. He thought he might vomit, but he steadied his grip on the rim of the drum and continued.
In the light’s beam he could see two small hands, bony and black, like they were covered in leather. The hands were cable-tied and rested on the crown of a small head, too small to be a man’s. The figure looked to be in prayer.
Valentine spoke: ‘Ally, was that the fiscal depute I saw out there?’
‘Yes, boss. He was a bit, how can I put it? Shaken up, even for Colin Scott.’
The DI rose. ‘I can’t fault a man for that. Jim Prentice wasn’t kidding when he said the corpse was mummified.’
‘Horrific, isn’t it?’ said CS Martin.
‘I’ve never seen anything like it in my entire career. Those hands . . . you can still see the flesh. It’s like they’ve been frozen that way since the time of death.’
‘The drum was sealed, sir,’ said Ally. ‘The doc reckoned all the moisture had been locked out, effectively preserving the contents.’
Valentine faced the team. He was pulling the latex gloves from his hands when he spoke. ‘Right, if the fiscal and the medic have seen this then I want the barrel removed from the ground and the contents examined.’
‘Yes, sir,’ said Ally.
‘I want this forensic team doubled and the contents photographed and catalogued within the hour. Phil, get on to Wrighty. I want him to look at this today – no excuses – and if it’s not his thing, then he gets someone in – today!’
‘Yes, boss.’
‘We have a dead child, and a crime scene that has been remarkably well kept for us. If we can’t get a jump on this case through the boffins, then I don’t know when they’ll ever be of use to us.’ Valentine rubbed the back of his head; the dull pain had become an ache now.
‘Boss, what about door to door?’ said DS Donnelly. ‘There’s a farmhouse up there, I saw a for-sale sign, but . . .’
The DI cut in. ‘No. Leave that for now. Any witnesses and suspects are likely to be long gone, or in need of very good memories. Did the doc say how long he’d been in there?’
‘No, though he did say at least twenty-five years.’
‘That’s what I was worried about. Hopefully there’ll be some more evidence in the barrel. If it’s preserved as well as the corpse then we might be lucky and find the poor lad’s bus pass or dinner ticket. Get it all looked at. And, Phil, don’t be a stranger to the phone. I want calls with every step of the way.’
‘Yes, boss.’
‘Do we know who owns the property?’
DS Donnelly removed a sheaf of paper from beneath his clipboard. ‘The site manager gave me this.’
Valentine took the sheet of A4. ‘Blairgowan Construction. They’re not local.’
‘No, Glasgow, sir. And they’ve been about as helpful and accommodating as you’d expect them to be.’
‘Perhaps someone should tell them it’s not a pair of nesting barn owls we’re dealing with, it’s murder . . . Hang on, this is a title deed, and it says they purchased the land and buildings in October of 2014.’
‘From a Mr Keirns, I think it says.’
‘It does indeed. Our very own Mr Garry Keirns.’ Valentine headed out of the tent. ‘Sylvia, you’re with me.’
‘Are we going where I think we are, sir?’
The DI was marching through the wet grass towards the car. ‘If you think we’re going to interrupt a funeral, then yes.’
McCormack stopped still. ‘I knew you were going to say that. I was hoping you wouldn’t, but I knew it.’
4
‘Hang on a minute, boss. Shouldn’t we wait to see what comes out of the barrel?’ said DS McCormack.
‘I think we can trust Phil and Ally with that. Besides, it looks like the construction crew have knocked off, and they’ll need to call back the digger operator to get it out of there. We haven’t got the time to waste if we want to bring in Keirns.’