Murmuring the Judges

24

The little man looked round the door, then stepped into the room. ‘The Principal Clerk told me to come and see you, gentlemen,’ Colin Maxwell announced. He wore a light check jacket and fawn trousers, having had no time to change into his formal black Court uniform.

‘Yes, that’s right,’ Mario McGuire nodded. ‘Come in and take a seat, Mr Maxwell.’ The two policemen were in an office in the Supreme Courts administration unit. It was on an upper floor and looked out on to the back of the newly built complex in Chambers Street which housed the Crown Office and Edinburgh Sheriff Court.

Maxwell’s eyes narrowed as he looked at McGuire. ‘Here,’ he said, ‘you’re the guy that succeeded Brian Mackie in Special Branch. What’s this about?’

‘It’s a very confidential matter, sir, and not to be discussed outside this room. Is that clear?’

The Court Officer nodded.

‘Sergeant McIlhenney and I have been asked by the Lord President to review security within the Supreme Court building,’ McGuire went on.

Unexpectedly, the little man threw back his head and laughed. ‘That’s a good one. This is the most insecure building in bloody Edinburgh. These fellas at the front door, they’re a waste of time. Not that they’re bad at their job, like. It’s just that this is the High Court. We get some right bad buggers on trial here, A lot of their friends are right bad buggers too, yet they’re allowed to swan in here unchecked.

‘Have you seen all those advocates’ boxes down thon corridor? The idea is that solicitors leave papers in there for Counsel, but the fact is anybody could leave anything. The public. . all those hooks and crooks in for trials. . walk right by that corridor on their way to the Courts.’

‘We’ve noted that already,’ McIlhenney acknowledged. ‘Maybe we can persuade the Courts Administration and the Faculty to put the boxes in a more secure part of the building.’

‘What about the Courts themselves?’ McGuire asked.

‘They’re open to the public.’

‘What happens during the lunch adjournment?’

‘Sometimes they’re left open. If there’s a lot of productions lying about then the Court’ll be locked, though.’

The Irish-Italian detective leaned back in his chair and grinned. ‘Let’s take a theoretical example, Mr Maxwell. Poor old Archergait popped off the other day. For the sake of argument, suppose someone had it in for him, how easy would it have been for them to nip into Court during lunch and put something in his water jug?’

The little man laughed, softly. ‘In that case it would have been bloody difficult. I always changed old Billy’s jug at lunchtime. He liked his gin and lime in the afternoon, you see. Everyone around here knew that.’

The smile left his face. ‘Mind you,’ he mused. ‘I suppose they could always have gone into the retiring room.’

‘What d’you mean?’ asked McIlhenney.

‘There’s an ante-room for the Judge behind the Court. I robe him in there, and that’s where I mixed old Billy’s gin, lime and water. It’s conceivable that someone could go in there.’

‘Is there a tap in there?’ The sergeant’s inquiry was casual.

‘Not for drinking water. I fill a bigger jug in the morning, and that does us through the day.’

‘The ante-rooms aren’t locked?’

‘No. They’re left open just in case the judge gets back early from lunch, to work on someone for the afternoon. There are lockable cupboards for the robes and wigs. The Court Officers have the key to them.’

‘How many doors are there to each room?’ McGuire fired at the man. ‘Just the one leading from the Court?’

‘Some of them have a second door out to the corridor behind.’

‘As a matter of interest, have you ever found anyone in a judge’s room?’

Maxwell looked at the policeman curiously, then shook his head. ‘Never that I can recall. Not without an invitation, anyway.’

‘You didn’t see anyone hanging around, for example, on the day Lord Archergait died?’

‘No.’ He paused. ‘Mind you, I wouldn’t necessarily have seen anyone that day. Old Billy was late back from his lunch. I did the carafe, then I had to go and chase him up from the dining room. So I suppose. .’

The Court Officer’s eyes narrowed, almost to slits. ‘Here,’ he said, quietly. ‘What are you guys leading up to? Are you trying to tell me. .’

McGuire looked at him, impassively, unsmiling. ‘We’re not trying to tell you anything, Mr Maxwell. We’re asking you. About security. Okay.’

The little man’s gaze dropped. ‘Aye, okay.’

‘And you’ll keep our inquiries to yourself?’

‘Sure.’

‘And if anything occurs to you. . about any aspect of our conversation. . ’ The Inspector pushed a card across the desk. ‘You’ll get in touch with us?’

‘Of course.’ He stood up to leave, turned towards the door then stopped. ‘One thing occurs to me. I’ve still got the rest of that bottle of gin, and the lime. I don’t drink the stuff, so you’d be as well finishing it as anyone else.’