Gallery Whispers

83

'Looks like that's it then, gentlemen,' sighed Skinner. He was as frustrated as the two superintendents. 'I agree with Maggie's view that the Bathgate case doesn't fit with the other two, so there's no sense in upsetting the family involved by raking the whole thing up again.'

'It'd be difficult anyway, sir,' said Mackie. 'There's a note on the file saying that the body had been released for cremation.'

'Doesn't make any difference.' The DCC held up the folder for a moment. 'There's nothing here which would have given us grounds to ask for an exhumation order. No, I'm afraid that for all your sterling efforts, we're back to square one. All the bloody aggravation has been for nothing.'

He glanced across the desk, and to his left at Neil Mcllhenney.

'Since you two know the facts of the case, and since you have to work with him, I'll tell you this. Neil, you haven't been involved in this inquiry — in fact you know bugger all about it — but you're my righthand man so you should hear this too.

'Andy Martin and my daughter have decided to end their engagement.

I would tread carefully around the Head of CID for a bit; he's feeling very sore about it. Fortunately he's got the conference preparations to keep him distracted.'

'He's not feeling sore at us, is he, sir?' asked Pringle, a touch anxiously.

'Of course not. Nor is there any reason why he should. You guys did a very professional job.'

'We could have buried it, boss,' said Mackie. 'When the Weston lad gave us Alex's name in his alibi… I mean, the evidence against them was all pretty tenuous by that time… we could simply have sent him and the girl home and forgotten all about it.'

'No you couldn't.' Skinner jabbed the folder with a finger, emphasising his words. 'It was there; it had to be followed through and confirmed. If the boy had been lying he'd have been firmly in the frame. He wasn't though, so it looks like we've run into the buffers agam. With the two kids eliminated as suspects, aside from the coincidence of the consultant Simmers having treated both Murray and the Bathgate woman, as far as I can see we're stuffed.'

Mackie nodded. 'Short of finding this mystery man Deacey, I'd say we are boss. And even if he walked off the street right now and gave himself up-'

'Wait a minute!'The urgency ofMcIlhenney's interruption cut him off in mid-sentence. 'Who did you say?'

The other three men looked at him, Mackie's surprise tinged with annoyance at the outburst. 'Gaynor Weston had a male friend that we haven't been able to trace,' the superintendent said. 'He was mentioned in her computer diary, but no one knows who he is; not her son, not anyone. We had one lead, but that went badly wrong on us. When Maggie got cut, it was him they were after.'

The sergeant looked at him. 'But that guy's name was Joseph; or so Mario told me.'

'That was his real name. He'd been living under an alias for a while. He was our only possibility. So now we're left with this odd name, Deacey, and we haven't a clue who it fits. But anyway, as I was saying, even if we did find him, he doesn't link into the Murray investigation.'

Mcllhenney leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling for a while, in silence, as if he was thinking something over, very carefully.

Eventually, he pulled himself forward and looked at Skinner. 'I'm afraid he does, sir, and to the Bathgate case. But no way is he the man you're after.

'I can tell you who Deacey is; he's Derek Simmers, the consultant.

It's his nickname, you see. He rarely goes by his Christian name; since his schooldays that's what all his friends have called him.'

'Then we'd better talk to him again, Brian,' said Pringle, emphatically.

'Two could be coincidence, three looks like conspiracy. I think we should try to have this guy suspended while we check back through his time at the hospital.'

'Just hold on there,' Mcllhenney exploded. 'This man's in charge of my wife's treatment. She has confidence in him, and she's making good progress; take him out of it and God knows what could happen.'

'If he's killing people,' the gruff superintendent countered, 'he needs to be taken out.'

'Killing them! He's doing his fucking best to save their lives, you fucking idiot!' Neil was on his feet, looming over Pringle. The divisional CID head was a formidable man in his own right, but wisely he stayed glued to his seat and looked across the desk in an appeal for help.

'Easy, sergeant, easy,' said Skinner, gently. He stood and took his assistant by the arm, pulling him gently towards the door. 'Come on, let's you and I step into the corridor for a bit.' Mcllhenney was still shaking with rage and tension, but he nodded and followed him outside.

'Just calm down now; get a hold of yourself,' said the DCC, when they were alone. 'Superintendent Pringle doesn't exactly wear jackboots, but he's old school nonetheless. You know that. Christ, you should; you're a younger version of him. If you weren't so involved in this personally, you'd probably have agreed with him.'

Mcllhenney leaned back against the wall, his eyes closed, breathing slowly to steady himself. 'Maybe before, boss,' he said hoarsely, 'but not now. Not now.' As he finished speaking, his voice cracked, his chin dropped on to his chest, and he started to sob, helplessly. As Skinner looked at him, he thought that it was one of the most shocking things he had ever seen, and one of the saddest.

'Neil, let's go along to your office.' He took the burly, thickset man by the elbow and led him the short distance along the corridor to his small room. 'Just sit in here by yourself, for as long as you need.'

'I'm sorry, boss, for losing it,' the sergeant whispered, beginning to recover himself. 'It's just so fucking hard to handle, that's all.'

'I know, pal. I know. Listen, don't worry about what Clan said back there. That's not going to happen. We're going to have to look into this, you know that, but it'll be done very carefully, and no one will rush into anything. I promise you that. You just stay here for a bit, now.'

Mcllhenney nodded. 'Yes, sir. Give my apologies to Mr Pringle, will you.'

'Like hell I will,' the DCC retorted. 'He was being a fucking idiot.'

He closed the door on his assistant and returned to his own office.

He looked at Pringle as he resumed his seat beside the window. 'Brain first, mouth second, Clan.'

'Aye, sir, I'm sorry, I wasnae thinking at all.'

'Okay, let me do some of that for you. Brian, when you saw Nolan Weston, you mentioned the name Deacey, didn't you?'

'Yes, sir, we did. He didn't react at all.' He pursed his lips for a second, then added, slowly. 'And they're pretty close colleagues, so-'

'Exactly: the name must have meant something to him. Before you do anything else, I want you to re-interview him, and find out what he can tell you about Deacey Simmers.' He glanced at Pringle again, with a faint smile. 'But gently, Clan, okay?'

'Don't worry, sir,' the superintendent replied. 'I'll kiss his you know what, if I have to.' He paused.

'Going on from what Brian was saying, there's another thing someone didn't say that might be significant. When the boy Steele and I interviewed Simmers, up at the hospital, he never once asked us what we were on about. A detective superintendent and a sergeant turn up to ask him about the death of one of his patients, yet he didn't ask us why. In the light of everything, boss, does that no' strike you as odd?'

Skinner frowned. 'I wish I could say no, for Olive and Neil's sakes, but I have to agree with you; it certainly does.'