Pray for the Dying

Fifty

‘When will they be in court?’ Viola Murphy asked, as soon as Dan Provan had finished reading the formal charges, and the two accused had been taken away to complete the bail formalities.

‘Ah can’t say,’ he replied, ‘but we’ll let you know. Will you be defending them both?’

‘Probably, unless either one of them changes their mind and decides to plead not guilty; in that event, there could be a conflict. Does Skinner mean it? Will he press for custodial sentences?’

‘From what Ah hear you got on the wrong side of him. Did you think he’s the kind that bluffs?’

‘No,’ the lawyer conceded.

‘It’s no’ just him. ACC Gorman’s of the same mind.’

‘And you?’

‘Listen, Viola, we all are. It’s tough for me, personally, you must know that, but we cannae let this go by wi’ a slap on the wrist, especially for McGlashan. If she goes down, he has tae and all. That would be the case suppose he wasn’t an ex-cop and married to somebody who still is. The fact that he is just underlines it. The fiscal will demand jail. The best you can hope for is a soft-hearted sheriff that gives them less than six months.’

‘I’ll ask for a suspended sentence.’

‘Ye better no’. He might hang them.’ He winced. ‘Bad joke, Ah know, but you know the bench. Sometimes, the more that lawyers chance their arm, the harder they go. Would ye like some advice?’

‘I’ll listen to it,’ she said. ‘Whether I’ll act on it. .’

‘Okay. If I was in the dock, I’d want the youngest, freshest kid in your firm tae do the plea in mitigation. Ah’d even be hopin’ that they made an arse of it, and the judge took pity on them. Because that’s the only way those two will get anything like sympathy from any sheriff in this city.’

‘Mmm,’ she murmured. ‘You may well be right. I suppose you should be; you’ve been around long enough to have seen it all. I’ll have a word with my partners, and see what they think. Thanks, Sergeant.’

The door had barely closed behind her when it opened again. Provan looked up, to see Scott Mann framed there.

‘Dan,’ he began. ‘Sarge.’

The older man bristled. ‘Don’t you fuckin’ call me Sarge.’ He jerked a thumb in the direction of DC Paterson who stood beside him, gathering notes and papers and putting them in order. ‘That’s reserved for colleagues, like Banjo here; for police officers, and that you’re no’. And don’t “Dan” me either. Mr Provan, it can be, but frankly Ah’d prefer nothing at all. Ah’d rather no’ see you again.’

‘Will ye put a word in for me?’ Mann begged.

‘What? Wi’ the high heid yins? You must be joking.’

‘No, I meant wi’ Lottie.’

The DS started round the table towards him, only to be restrained by Paterson’s strong hand, grabbing him by the elbow. He stopped, gathering himself.

‘There is even less chance of that,’ he said when he was ready. ‘From now on, I will do all I can to protect Lottie from you. Now you fuck off out of here, boy, get off wi’ your tart. And be glad you’re leavin’ in one piece. In the old days ye wouldn’t have.’