Pray for the Dying

Forty-Five

Detective Sergeant Dan Provan sat at his absent boss’s desk staring at the notes he had made. He was unsure of the significance of what he had discovered. Instinctively he doubted that it had any relevance to the investigation on which he was engaged. But one thing he did know: it was well outside his comfort zone as a police officer.

He had spent most of his thirty-something year career catching petty thieves and putting them out of business, sorting out those who thought that violence was an acceptable means of self-expression, or in one short but horrible chapter, pursuing and prosecuting those he would always refer to only as ‘beasts’, sicko bastards who preyed upon children, their own on one or two occasions, leaving them with physical and emotional scars they would carry through life.

Always, those issues had been clear, and he had known exactly what he was doing and why. But this stuff, Glasgow hoodlums coming up with big red ‘hands off’ notices on the national intelligence database, and the latest, Mauritian mysteries, it was all unfocused, and way outside the rules of the game that he was used to playing. Yet it excited him, gave him the kind of thrill he had experienced as a young man, before it had been washed away by a river of sadness and cynicism.

When the door opened he did not look up. Instead he growled, ‘Banjo, will you fuck off! Did Ah no’ say Ah want to be alone in here?’

‘Indeed?’ a strong baritone voice replied. ‘Anyone less like Greta Garbo I cannot imagine.’

Provan gulped and shot to his feet. ‘Sorry, sir,’ he said to the chief constable. ‘Ah thought it was DC Paterson. Around here we’re no’ used to the brass comin’ tae see us. Always it’s the other way around, and usually for the wrong reasons. As a matter of fact,’ he continued, ‘I was just about tae ask for an appointment wi’ you.’

Skinner laughed. ‘You make me sound like the fucking dentist. Sit down, man, and relax. Before we get to your business, I’ve got another task for you. Not a very pleasant one, but I reckon you’d rather do it that anyone else.’

‘Sounds ominous, gaffer.’ He took a guess. ‘Scott Mann?’

‘Got it in one. ACC Gorman and I have not long finished interviewing him. He’s going to be charged.’

‘Conspiracy to murder?’ the DS murmured.

‘No, he’ll only be charged with theft. We’re satisfied that he had no specific knowledge of why Bazza Brown wanted the uniforms. He’s heading for Barlinnie though, or Low Moss.’

‘Still,’ Provan countered, ‘all things considered, that’s a result for him. It’ll no’ be nice for Lottie and the wee fella, but a hell of a lot better than if he got life.’

‘True, but it’s not as simple as that. There will be a co-accused, Sergeant Christine McGlashan, who works in the store warehouse.’

Provan stiffened in his chair. ‘Christine McGlashan?’ he repeated. ‘She used to be a DC, until she got promoted back intae uniform. She worked alongside Scott in CID and it was an open secret that he was porkin’ her. But that was before he met Lottie. Are you gin’ tae tell me he still is?’

The chief constable nodded. ‘I’m afraid so. You’ll see that’s why you’re the best man to explain the situation to Lottie. That said, if you think it’s Mission Impossible, you don’t have to accept it. This tape will self-destruct in five seconds and I’ll handle it myself.’

‘No, sir, Ah’ll do it. You’re right; it’s best she hears that sort of news from someone who knows the both o’ them.’

‘Thanks, Dan. None of this is going to go unnoticed or unrewarded, you realise that?’

‘Appreciated, boss, but that “Thanks”, that was enough. There’s no way you could reward me, other than promotion to DI, and I wouldn’t accept that. I am where Ah want to be. If you can make sure that for as long as Ah’m here Ah’ll be alongside the Big Yin, tae look after her, that’ll be fine.’

‘For as long as I’m here myself, I’ll make sure that happens. That’s a promise, Dan.’

‘In which case, Ah hope you stick around.’ He frowned. ‘What’s happenin’ tae McGlashan?’

‘She’ll have been arrested by now, and on her way here. You and Paterson can interview her, but make sure you listen to the recording of Mann’s interview first. Once you’ve done that, you can charge them both, then release them on police bail, pending a Sheriff Court appearance.’ He took a breath, then went on. ‘Now, what were you coming to tell me?’

‘The thing you asked me tae do, sir,’ Provan responded. ‘Ah’ve got a result, sort of. There’s a hospital in Port Louis. . that’s the capital of Mauritius,’ he offered, with a degree of pride. ‘It’s called the Doctor Jeetoo. Its maternity department has a record of a patient called Antonia Day Champs. She had a baby there, a wee girl, on May the twenty-third, two years ago. It was born by caesarean section, and she was discharged a week after. The address they had for her was in a place called Peach Street. I checked the local property register; it said it’s owned by a woman called Sofia Day Champs.’

‘Toni’s mother,’ Skinner volunteered. ‘She got knocked up and went home to Mum.’

The sergeant sniggered. ‘Makes a change from goin’ tae yer auntie’s for a few months, like lassies used tae do in the days before legal abortions. Ah wonder why she didnae have one herself, given that she was such a career woman. Her clock must have been tickin’ Ah suppose.’

‘Who knows?’

‘I spoke to the ward sister. She said she remembered her. She said that a woman came to visit her when she was in, but no husband. There was one man came to visit her, though; much older, about seventy. The sister heard Sofia call him “Grandpa”. She said his face was familiar, like somebody she’d seen in the papers, but that whoever he was he was pretty high-powered, because the consultant was on his best behaviour when he was there, and Antonia had a room tae herself.’

‘Then I guess that could have been her father. Marina told me he was a bigwig in government, and Sofia was his mistress. So what about the birth registration, Dan?’ the chief asked. ‘That’s what I’m really interested in.’

‘Then you’re no’ goin’ tae like this. Mauritius is more modern than ye’d think. All the latest records are stored on computer. The doctor who attends the birth gives the parents a form tae say that it’s happened, but that’s the only written record, apart from the official birth certificate that the parents are given when they register it. And you have tae do that; it’s the law. The government guy Ah spoke to checked the whole period that she was out there after the twenty-third of May, and there is no record of a birth bein’ registered. He’s in no doubt about that.’

‘Bugger!’

The DS held up a hand: it occurred to Skinner that one day he would make an excellent lollipop man. ‘However,’ he declared, ‘he did say that he’d found an anomaly. On the thirtieth of May, a week later, there were forty-six births notified, but when he looked at the computer, he noticed that number seven two six four is followed by seven two six six. There’s a number missing; he had his computer folk look at it. They said it had been hacked. How about that then, boss? D’ye think Grandpa was powerful enough to have the record removed?’

‘I doubt it, Dan,’ Skinner replied. ‘But I know someone who is.’