Midnight and Blue

27

Jason Mulgrew’s legal team reckoned the case might not even reach court. They had statements from DCs Allbright and Tilley to the effect that DS Christine Esson had made a search of her colleague’s desk without a warrant. Same went for his car. His mobile phone and computer showed evidence of deletion, but MIT had yet to find a bank account with evidence of money paid to Zak Campbell. At each recorded interview, Mulgrew said the same two words — ‘No comment.’ His lawyers agreed that samples of his hair might well have been found in Campbell’s kitchen, but their client had explained the momentary lapse in concentration that had led him to give his head a good scratch while the hood of his overalls hung loosely down around his neck.

At the end of one of the interviews, after the equipment had been switched off, Siobhan Clarke had placed a hand on Mulgrew’s arm as he went to join his lawyer in the corridor.

‘Why hang on to the book, Jason? Just tell me that?’

He leaned in so his lips were almost touching her ear. ‘All those names, Siobhan. I just got greedy...’ His lawyer cleared his throat in warning and Clarke released her hold.

There was tidying-up to be done elsewhere. Jasmine’s parents had started the process of filing for divorce and Jasmine wasn’t sure if she would stay with her mother or travel south with her father. The media clamour had died down and would only be rekindled if and when the Zak Campbell murder trial started. The names in Campbell’s little black book would become public property then. Proceedings were actually being considered against at least three of his clients who had pestered him for younger and younger models. Siobhan Clarke wondered if Peter ‘Pedro’ Cowan would be the only one to take his own life.

She went to see Rebus, knowing that Samantha had set up her own schedule of visits with Carrie. There was still some bruising on his face, but his eyes were back to normal, more or less.

‘Good result,’ she told him, having fetched cold drinks and chocolate from the vending machines.

‘Except that with Mark Jamieson dead, you lot will draw a line under it.’

‘“You lot”?’

‘I’d probably have done the same back in the day. Mystery solved, end of. But it was Darryl Christie who plotted it and Darryl Christie who made it happen.’

‘The only thing missing is concrete evidence.’

‘I’m the evidence, Siobhan.’

‘Which is why you need to play nice, John — you’ve seen what can happen when Christie feels cornered. Gartcosh reckon you should leave it to them.’

Rebus snorted. ‘I wouldn’t trust Fox to take down a shower curtain, never mind organised crime.’

‘You’ve not heard?’

Rebus took a bite of chocolate. ‘What?’

‘Fox has tendered his resignation. He was grooming Jason Mulgrew for greatness. That didn’t go down too well. Added to everything else, there’s a good chance he was due to be bounced down the ladder anyway.’

‘Just like him to take the coward’s way out.’

Clarke gave him a look. ‘I’m not sure that’s strictly fair.’

‘Do I have time to phone him for a gloat?’

‘Stop it.’ She sipped from her can, stifling a burp. ‘It’s good that you’ve agreed to let Carrie come visit.’ Rebus just shrugged. ‘Are things settling down now? In here, I mean?’

‘Harrison’s being moved to Perth. Darryl Christie seems to have grown a couple of inches. Everyone knows what he did to Mark Jamieson. No way I’m ever forgiving him for that.’

‘Remember what I said about playing nice?’

‘I’m not sure I can, though.’ He was wrapping up what was left of the chocolate, ready to tuck it into his pocket for later consumption or bartering. ‘Every day I’m in here, the feeling gets stronger — somebody needs to do something to take the bastard down.’

‘Doesn’t have to be a retired cop who’s pushing seventy, though, does it?’

‘You think I’ve not got it in me?’ Rebus made show of puffing out his chest. Clarke gave a little laugh and shook her head.

They chatted more generally until time was up. Chris Novak was standing ready to escort Rebus back to Trinity Hall.

‘Everything all right with you?’ Rebus asked him.

‘We seem to have got away with you paying me a visit,’ Novak answered under his breath.

‘What about Valerie?’

‘We’ve decided to break things off.’

‘Her heart was in the right place, you know — telling the investigation about your relationship, bringing me to see you...’

‘I know that, John. But I can’t live two lives.’

‘It was three, actually, with your vigilante act.’

‘Aye, well that’s gone, too.’

‘And yet Christie’s operation needs bringing down more than ever.’

Novak nodded solemnly. ‘I got a message from DI Fox, you know.’

‘Oh aye?’

‘He said he knew who it was under that bike helmet. He’d looked at which POs had family or friends in CID. He also said you’d done your best to throw him off the scent. But one other thing he’d heard was that some gangster in Glasgow had come to realise how fragile Christie’s hold on Edinburgh was...’

‘Mickey Mason,’ Rebus stated, his eyes on Novak. ‘And you think the city would be better off in Glasgow’s hands than Darryl Christie’s?’

‘I think a lot of threatened prison officers might be.’

‘Speaking of threats, the governor still owes me a favour.’

‘I know you want Bobby Briggs sent elsewhere. Governor’s doing his level best...’

Rebus had stopped walking and was holding up a finger, face angled upwards. ‘Do you hear that, Chris?’

‘What?’

‘I thought I heard bells.’

‘No churches near here, John.’ Novak listened and then shook his head.

Rebus was readying to move off towards Trinity Hall, but Novak tapped him on the arm.

‘We’re taking a detour,’ he said, leading him towards the row of clear-walled cubicles set aside for private visits. ‘You’ve got someone waiting.’ He indicated the booth at the far end. Then he held out his hand and shook Rebus’s. ‘I’ll be here when you’re done, John. Fingers crossed...’

As Rebus walked towards the booth, he saw his solicitor already seated, sorting through some paperwork in front of him. He hesitated a moment before opening the door and stepping through.

‘John.’ The lawyer reached across the gap to grasp his hand. ‘Take a seat, please.’

Rebus did so, his fingers seeking a grip around the smooth lip of the table. The solicitor read on for a few further seconds, then looked up at him. The man’s mouth broke into a widening smile.

‘Finally there’s news, John,’ he began. ‘There’s very good news indeed...’