Blood Lines (36 page)

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Authors: Grace Monroe

Tags: #Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, #Mystery, #Thrillers & Suspense, #Crime, #Murder, #Spies & Politics, #Conspiracies, #Literature & Fiction, #Contemporary Fiction, #Crime Fiction

BOOK: Blood Lines
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She pulled a picture out of her wallet and showed me her Pekinese, Bernie. After making suitable gushing noises, Mrs Carpenter put Bernie’s picture away. I had a flash of understanding as to why Bernard had gone wrong. He was named after a dog. I was told that the Bernie in the picture was Bernie IX; I just knew that the boy Bernard did not warrant Roman numerals after his name.

‘I need to speak to Bernard alone, Mrs Carpenter.’

She uttered the immortal cry of deluded mothers everywhere. ‘We have no secrets!’

I hoped for her sake that they did, and ushered him along the corridor out of earshot.

‘The witness’s name is Mr Wilson,’ I told him. ‘I don’t know if he’s here. I cited him as a defence witness so if he doesn’t show up I can ask for an adjournment – but that may just be postponing the inevitable. Although he has confirmed your story about DI Bancho, he’s not keen to speak.’

‘Sorry if I’ve misled you, Brodie,’ he answered sheepishly.

My heart sank. If I had a pound for every time I’ve had those words uttered to me on the morning of a trial I’d be a millionaire.

‘Please explain exactly what you mean by misleading me.’

My voice was icy; I could have frozen milk at fifty paces. I thought I saw Bernard quake; at the very least his outsized Adam’s apple bobbed about nervously.

‘I don’t think I specifically said it was DI Bancho – sure, he was interviewing me, but there were other coppers around. You just seemed so keen to blame him that I sort of went along with you, just to please you, like.’ He smiled apologetically.

‘Run that past me again, Bernard.’

I never stopped smiling as I looked into his nervous eyes.

‘It’s like I said. Sorry.’

I wanted to smack his face and call him a liar. Joe had warned me that this one would sell me for a bag of smack; come to think of it, he’d also told me that Bancho wasn’t bent. I wouldn’t listen then – but I was listening now.

‘Continue.’

My icy tone dropped several degrees.

‘I was lifted by a woman officer – she knew the score. I never saw her again. I think by the time I saw Bancho, the gear had been put in my property.’

He shrugged his shoulders before adding, ‘By the woman, I suppose.’

‘And you tell me this now because …?’

‘Because I don’t want to get into any more trouble than I’m in. Brodie, I’m out of my depth here. You’ve met my mother; you can see that I’m not cut out for this life. When Moses cut out Bruce’s eyes in front of me …’ His voice quavered with unshed tears.

‘If I just plead guilty, then this can all be forgotten. They won’t send me to jail, I’ll get probation. I promise I will never do anything wrong again.’

This vow is made to me each time I start a trial. This time I believed the pledge. Strangely, I also thought he was making a mistake. I was all for him walking the straight and narrow, but he would be attaching himself to Mrs Carpenter’s apron strings to play second fiddle to the current Bernie, the resident Pekinese.

‘At first, I thought you were throwing me a line, Bernard.’

‘Well, why did you take my case to trial?’

‘That’s too long a story to go into here, but you don’t deserve to have this on your record – the evidence was planted on you irrespective of who did it.’

‘I stole the stuff – I was just unlucky they found it.’

‘Bernard – the law is a system of checks and balances. My job is to make sure that everything evens out. If you plead guilty then some crooked bastard will go on to do it again to someone else.’

‘I don’t care about anyone else.’

Rarely has a truer word been spoken.

‘Bernard – shut your mouth and do as I say.’

I walked away from Bernard, leaving him to the devices of Mrs Carpenter. She would never allow her second most beloved Bernie to plead guilty.

Chapter Forty-Five

Duncan Bancho and Peggy Malone stood outside the court enjoying a last cigarette.

Bancho looked like a condemned man. The mere presence of police had cleared the usually crowded court entrance and I walked right up to them. We needed to discuss Bridget Nicholson and Robert Girvan.

Now.

I could see that Duncan had not been sleeping, which was hardly any wonder. If I was right, he would be facing five years in Saughton Prison. If Bernard was telling the truth, he’d still be belted for allowing such things to go on whilst it was his watch. But I couldn’t afford to feel sorry for him now. Generously, Peggy Malone offered me a cigarette.

‘No thanks, Peggy. Could I have a word with Duncan on our own? We have a bit of a history and there’s some private stuff I need to say.’

DC Malone walked up the stairs to the witness room.

‘You’ve got a bloody cheek,’ snapped Bancho. ‘History? That you sold Fishy down the river and want to do the same to me?’

‘Firstly, I’d like to say I’m sorry.’

‘Sorry? Do you think that’s enough for ruining a fifteen-year career? I joined the police as a cadet straight from school; I don’t think “sorry” quite cuts it.’

‘You’re not making it easy for me, Duncan.’

‘Not making it easy? For you? You have got a bloody nerve, Brodie.’

‘I want to ask for an adjournment today – tell the Fiscal you don’t oppose.’

‘Why should I?’

‘Because someone planted those jewels on Bernard Carpenter, and I’ve just remembered you’re the kind of cop who wouldn’t approve of it.’

‘You’ve pushed me too far this time, Brodie, I swear. I still intend to do you for Alex Cattanach’s attack.’

‘Just speak to the Fiscal. I’m going to say I’m ill.’

I ran back in and the case was called first on the roll in Court Nine before Sheriff Harrison.

‘Bernard Carpenter?’

I spoke up. ‘I appear on behalf of Bernard Carpenter. I seek to adjourn this case on the grounds that the defence agent is too ill to proceed to trial – I understand that the Fiscal has no objections.’

The baby-faced boy representing the Crown was only too delighted to get rid of this hot potato and quickly nodded his assent. Bernard looked nonplussed. He wasn’t important – I didn’t have to explain myself to him at the moment.

‘Before you rush off, Miss MacGregor, I’d like a word with you,’ said Harrison. ‘If you are well enough?’ he added with a smirk.

‘Court!’

The sheriff clerk shouted as Sheriff Harrison left the bench. We all stood up and I made moves to follow him to his chambers. Was he going to ask me what was wrong with me? I needed to get moving fast; maybe I should tell him I had anal leakage – a friend of mine always threatened to write notes to her son’s teachers saying that was what he had if he ever tried to wing a day off school. At least I’d embarrass him; I’d bet my feet wouldn’t touch the ground.

I closed the door behind me. The room was well sound-proofed and my feet moved silently across the thick red carpet. Harrison’s wig lay in the corner of the desk and he looked oddly human, younger than I had remembered. I was also uncomfortably aware that I owed him a favour after the Tanya Hayder case.

‘I heard poor Miss Hayder died in that rehab you fought so hard to get her into.’

I nodded at him.

‘Sometimes we should be careful what we wish for – if the poor wretch had ended up in Cornton Vale it’s likely she would be alive today, ready to shoplift on her release. Don’t misunderstand me; I am not laying Miss Hayder’s death at your door, it was her wishes I was referring to. Still, let’s move on to other matters, no less difficult.’

He looked down at his desk and shuffled his papers. I got the impression that no matter how much he needed to say what was on his mind, he didn’t want to say it.

‘Mmmm … yes, well, the thing is … I have a daughter. A rather brilliant, rather wayward daughter. She has just finished at Edinburgh University. Much to my surprise she managed to qualify in law,
summa cum
laude
.’

‘You must be very proud,’ I told him, pretty sure I was on safe ground with that response.

He looked at me over his half-moon glasses. For some reason I felt sorry for him.

‘You’d think that – until you meet her. Anyway, I’m sure you know from your own experience that after graduation the first thing to deal with is, erm, the future. By now she is desirous of obtaining a traineeship.’

‘With her degree, the top Edinburgh and London firms will be queuing up to take her,’ I said.

He shook his head.

‘No. No, they will not. In any event, Louisa has decided that she wants you – she has developed a rather close relationship with her Professor of Pathology.’

‘Patch?’ I interrupted. I would have to have a word with him. I bet he put her up to it. Still, I was intrigued to meet the girl. She must be quite something if Patch was recommending her to me.

‘If you don’t mind I will call her in now,’ said Sheriff Harrison, deciding that the discussion was behind us.

It didn’t really matter what the snotty posh girl was like, I was stuck with her for two years because I owed her daddy a favour. Why she wanted to be my trainee was beyond me. Patch must have waxed lyrical about my abilities, and her father must have kept quiet about what he thought about me.

‘Louisa! Come in now, darling, I know that you’re listening at the door.’

There are very few people who make you forget what you were doing the instant that you met them. But I will never forget my first impression of Louisa Harrison. It could have been her bright pink, extremely unattractive hair, wispy to the point of thinness and hanging in a rat’s tail down her back. It could have been the fact that she had her leather jacket on, which she must have thought was de rigueur office-wear at Lothian and St Clair. Or possibly it was the fact that she was one of the smallest, most misshapen people I had ever seen. I wasn’t aware that I was staring until she spoke. Her voice was high and squeaky.

‘Osteogenesis imperfecta,’ she informed me. ‘Brittle bones. And imperfectly formed ones at that. That’s why I look like Quasimodo’s sister.’

Her tone was chirpy and matter of fact.

Sheriff Harrison shrugged his shoulders. It seemed that she was my problem now.

‘Oh, right. Your father says that you’re keen to do your traineeship with me?’

She didn’t answer; she wasn’t going to give me any help.

‘So, when do you want to start?’

‘How about right now?’ She was keen enough to answer that one. ‘That’s why I’m wearing my leathers.’

‘I don’t have a helmet for you,’ I said, trying to get rid of her, whilst being pretty damn impressed that she had brought her own leathers and knew so much about my devotion to the bike. I couldn’t use the excuse of not feeling well to someone who had obviously gone through so much pain in her life.

‘Don’t worry. I’ve got my own.’

I gained the distinct impression that Louisa Harrison was used to dealing with people who tried to fob her off.

‘You two girls have fun,’ shouted Sheriff Harrison as he ran back in to court.

‘It’s not been easy for him,’ Louisa said wisely.

I already had the feeling it wasn’t going to be easy for me.

‘How did you get friendly with Patch?’ I asked as we made our way to the bike.

‘At an Elvis convention,’ she told me.

It was one of the last answers I wanted to hear.

‘The thing is, Louisa, I’ve got something very difficult to deal with this afternoon.’

Her eyes sparkled. ‘Is something “going down”?’ she asked, obviously hoping that was exactly the case. ‘You won’t even notice me.’

‘What? With that hair?’ I replied.

‘You’d be surprised how invisible a crippled girl is. By the way, I found this in my dad’s chambers.’

She stretched out her rather beautiful hands towards me. In her palm lay a single white stone.

‘You must have dropped it.’

I knew we were going to be all right.

Chapter Forty-Six

‘I think he’s about to make his move,’ Joe said.

Moses shouted in the background, ‘I know he is!’

They had both been following Robert Girvan and I’d received a phone call from them just as I’d left the court with Louisa. Joe had given me instructions and I’d made my way towards the Rag Doll as fast as I could. At the pub, I turned left and headed up to the high-rise council flats, the same estate where Joe and I had been brought up.

I joined them in their hiding place beside the seven-foot metal bins that lay at the bottom of the rubbish chutes. It was stinking. Some of the bags had burst open – potato peelings and some less acceptable things lay on the ground. In the corner I could see a mouse nibbling on a rotting apple core.

‘This is Louisa,’ I said pointedly to Joe and Moses as I introduced them. To my shame neither of them stared at her, just nodded matter-of-factly.

‘I’m Brodie’s new trainee.’ The pride in her voice was unmistakable.

‘What did you do wrong that you ended up with Brodie?’ Joe asked.

‘I met Patch at an Elvis convention and he said she was great.’ Moses groaned, and I knew he was cursing the addition of another of the King’s chosen ones. ‘Christ, you’re stuck with Brodie, but we’re stuck with another bloody Elvis freak.’

I winced at the use of the word ‘freak’, but that was my problem, not theirs. Louisa settled herself down amongst the stinky nappies as if she had been born to it.

‘Couldn’t you have found a nicer place to hide?’ I asked them.

‘You don’t hear Louisa complaining, and she’s closer to the stink than the rest of us; no offence, Louisa,’ Moses added.

‘None taken, Moses.’

Louisa had obviously had all our biographies from Patch and was acting as if she had landed amongst the X-Men. It was rather sweet and I only prayed I could keep myself out of jail long enough for her to finish her traineeship.

Robert Girvan finally turned up. After carefully checking that no one was watching he lifted up the metal door of a garage.

‘Here we go,’ said Glasgow Joe. ‘Here’s our man – or woman, I should say. Tell you what, Brodie, once I’ve finished with him he won’t have to put on a woman’s voice; he’ll be fuckin’ squeaking his bollocks off for the rest of his natural …’

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