Skinner's mission

35

‘I’m sorry, ma’am, I was sure you said nine thirty.’

‘It’s all right, Sammy,’ said Maggie Rose. ‘I did. I’ve only been here myself for ten minutes. I’m still waiting for the system to boot up.’

‘Is Inspector McGuire not coming then?’

She smiled. ‘No. He’s done his bit for the day.’ The changing patterns on the monitor screen settled down and the retrieval menu for the information system came into view. ‘Watch this,’ she said, using the mouse to pull down the Find File command.

She frowned slightly as she keyed in the name, ‘Evan Mulgrew’, and clicked the ‘OK’ box to start the search.

A running man figure appeared on the screen. He ran and ran, for almost thirty seconds, and her heart began to sink. ‘I doubt Mario’s man can’t have gone to jail after. .’ She stopped in mid-sentence as a file opened on screen. It was headed, ‘Evan Mulgrew’, and under the name there were two photographs, the traditional full-face and profile.

The Vulture stared out at the two detectives from the screen. By any standards, he was an ugly man, with small dark eyes and a bushy moustache which seemed to add emphasis to his leering expression. A long scar ran diagonally across most of his wide forehead, from the hairline down to his left eyebrow.

Rose clicked on to the next section of the file. She read quickly. ‘He’s three years into a twelve-year sentence, imposed in the High Court in Edinburgh for attempted rape. Pleaded guilty.

‘Served six months for serious assault, eight years ago, previous convictions for assault, demanding money with menaces, and breach of the peace.

‘Age thirty-nine, religion Roman Catholic, but divorced twelve years ago, therefore non-practising. Next of kin listed as a son, John Paton Mulgrew, age nineteen.

‘Height five feet ten inches. Weight fourteen stone twelve pounds. Colour of eyes, brown. Colour of hair, red. Distinguishing marks; scar across forehead, large tattoo on right shoulder.’

She turned and smiled up at Pye. ‘Got him! Your theory paid off, and Mario was right too. He’ll be chuffed to bits when I tell him.’

Her grin grew even wider. ‘There’s one thing he won’t like, though.’

‘What’s that, ma’am?’

‘The Vulture’s in Peterhead. Bang goes Mario’s French Toast! Come on, Sammy, let’s head up there.’

She switched off the terminal and headed for the door, a puzzled Detective Constable trailing at her heels.