already told Scholes how much they’d enjoyed his little ruse.
‘I don’t call official police business a “ruse”,’ Scholes had shot back at him. ‘On the other hand, this almost certainly qualifies as a waste of time.’
‘Only “almost”?’ Malcolm Fox had responded, busying himself with the paperwork.
‘All set,’ Naysmith was now telling them.
‘Happy to start?’ Fox asked Scholes.
Scholes was nodding when his phone sounded. He answered it by identifying himself as ‘Ray Scholes, public enemy number one.’ Sounded like his girlfriend on the other end, asking him to pick up something for dinner. But she knew about the Complaints.
‘Yeah, they’re here,’ Scholes drawled, eyes on Fox. Fox drew a finger across his throat, but Scholes was in no hurry. When he eventually ended the call, Fox asked if the phone could be switched off. Scholes shook his head.
‘Never know when something important’s going to crop up.’
‘How long before it rings again?’ Fox asked. ‘Will it be her every time, or have you split the task between your friends?’ Fox looked towards Tony Kaye. ‘What is it usually – five minutes or ten?’
‘Ten,’ Kaye stated definitively.
Fox turned his attention back to Ray Scholes. ‘I doubt there’s anything you can do that hasn’t been tried a hundred times. So why not just switch the phone off?’
Scholes managed a bit of a smile as he complied, Fox thanking him with a nod.
‘Was DC Carter a good cop, in your opinion?’ Fox then asked.
‘Still is.’
‘We both know he’s not coming back.’
‘How come you hate cops so much?’
Fox stared at the man across the desk. Scholes was in his mid-thirties but looked younger. A freckled face and milky-blue eyes. An odd image flashed up in Fox’s memory: a big bag of marbles he’d owned as a boy. His favourite had been a pale-blue one, its flaws only visible when you peered at it, turning it slowly between your fingers
…
‘That’s an original question,’ Tony Kaye was answering Scholes. ‘I doubt we’re asked that more than a few dozen times a month.’
‘I just don’t know why you’d want to punish everyone who’s ever worked with Paul.’
‘Not everyone,’ Fox corrected him. ‘Just the names mentioned by the sheriff.’
Scholes snorted. ‘Call that a sheriff? Ask anyone on the force – Colin Cardonald’s just the man to stick the knife in. Number of cases where he’s tried everything possible to swing it the defendant’s way
…’
‘There’s always one,’ Kaye conceded.
‘Was there any history between Sheriff Cardonald and DC Carter?’ Fox asked.
‘A bit.’
‘And between the judge and yourself?’ Fox waited, but no answer came. ‘Are you saying that Sheriff Cardonald singled out certain names because of a grudge?’
‘No comment.’
‘A complaint was made about Paul Carter almost a year back, wasn’t it? His own uncle said Carter had admitted taking advantage of a woman. The claim was investigated…’ Fox made show of looking for the relevant page in his notes.
‘Nothing ever came of it,’ Scholes stated.
‘Not straight away, not until Teresa Collins decided she’d had enough…’ Fox paused. ‘Did you know Carter’s uncle?’
‘He was a cop.’
‘That’s a yes, then. Why do you think he said what he said?’
Scholes shrugged.
‘Yet another grudge? And the three women – the original complainant plus the two who came forward later – more grudges? Lot of grudges piling up against your friend, the “good cop” Paul Carter.’ Fox leaned back in his chair, feigning interest in some of the pages of text. The newspaper cuttings were in full view on the desk. Kaye and Naysmith knew that silence was useful sometimes, and that when Fox leaned back like that it wasn’t because he’d run out of questions. Naysmith checked the equipment; Kaye studied his wristwatch.
‘Is that the starters finished, then?’ Scholes asked eventually. ‘Are we moving on to the meat and veg?’
‘Meat and veg?’
‘Where you try taking me down with Paul. Where you make out I lied in court, tried putting the fear on the witnesses…’
‘Teresa Collins states that you were in the car with Carter when he pulled up beside her and told her he’d be coming to her house later that day for sex.’
‘I wasn’t.’
‘When she made her complaint, you phoned her and tried to get her to withdraw it.’
‘No.’
‘Her mobile phone had your number in it. Date, time and duration of call.’
‘As I said in court, it was a mistake. How long did the call last?’
‘Eighteen seconds.’
‘Right – soon as I realised, I hung up.’
‘Why did you have her number?’
‘It was on a bit of paper on one of the desks in the office.’
‘You got curious, so you called the mystery number?’
‘That’s it.’
Tony Kaye was shaking his head slowly, making evident his disbelief.
‘So you deny telling her to…’ Fox glanced at his notes again, ‘“back the fuck off”?’
‘Yes.’
‘Did you spend time with Carter when the two of you were off duty?’
‘Few beers now and then.’
‘And clubs… away days to Edinburgh and Glasgow.’
‘It’s no secret.’
‘That’s right. It all came out in court.’
Scholes snorted. ‘Cops stick together and like a drink now and then – hold the front page.’
‘Carter was a DC, you’re a DI.’
‘So?’
‘So he’d never been promoted. Lowest rank in CID, and he’d been a cop as long as you.’
‘Not everybody wants promotion.’
‘Not everybody merits it,’ Fox stated. ‘Which was it with Paul Carter?’
Scholes was opening his mouth to answer when the interview room door opened. There was a uniformed woman there.
‘Sorry to interrupt,’ she said, not looking sorry at all. ‘Thought I’d better say hello.’ She saw that Naysmith was switching off the recorders. Reaching the desk, she introduced herself as Superintendent Isabel Pitkethly. Fox stood up with a certain reluctance and offered his hand for her to shake.
‘Inspector Malcolm Fox,’ he stated.
‘Everything all right?’ Pitkethly looked around the room. ‘Got everything you need?’
‘We’re fine.’
She was almost a foot shorter than Fox but much the same age – early forties. Collar-length brown hair, blue eyes glinting behind her spectacles. She wore a regulation white blouse with epaulettes at the shoulders. Dark skirt falling to just above her knees.
‘Ray behaving himself?’ She gave a nervous laugh, and Fox could see that the past few weeks had left their mark on her. She probably saw herself as captain of a tight ship, and now the structure had been damaged from
