‘ Damn right it was,’ growled McClintock.
‘ On the other hand, if a man like Hector Combe says on his deathbed that he did it and that the police fitted someone else up for it — someone who just happened to be a brilliant medical scientist — then we do take an interest.’
‘ Come on man, that was just Combe taking one last swing at his natural enemy, the police. He was opening up old wounds and rubbing salt into them. It was just his way of saying good-bye. That was Combe all over, evil bastard.’
‘ Combe knew about Julie Summers’ fingers being broken,’ said Steven, taking a sip of his beer and watching McClintock’s reaction over the rim of the glass.
‘ I’m not with you,’ said McClintock, opening a new packet of cigarettes and lighting one with an old style Zippo lighter: it made the air smell of petrol.
Steven waited until McClintock had taken a first lungful and exhaled it before saying, ‘It was never common knowledge that her fingers had been broken in the attack. It didn’t come out in court and the newspapers never got hold of it but Combe knew,’ said Steven. ‘He made a point of telling the Rev Lawson all about it in great detail.’
McClintock looked doubtful. ‘All sorts of details get circulated in the prison system,’ he said. ‘And nobody knows how they get there in the first place. I bet half the buggers in pokey know where Lord Lucan is. Combe knowing that is no big deal.’
‘ Probably not,’ agreed Steven, ‘but all the same I’d like to check the forensic reports on the case before I call a halt.’
‘ The forensic stuff was all in the file,’ said McClintock.
‘ Only the stuff that was used in court,’ said Steven. ‘Come to think of it, I’d like to see the full scene of crime report, sample lists, photographs, the lot.’
‘ Are you sure this is really necessary?’ asked McClintock.
‘ No, but it’s what I want to do,’ said Steven.
‘ But why?’ exclaimed McClintock. ‘If it gets out that someone is taking another look at the Julie Summers case, the press are going to want to know why. They’ll start crucifying us all over again.’
‘ It doesn’t have to get out,’ said Steven. ‘It can be done discreetly.’
‘ But Christ, man! Little was as guilty as sin,’ said McClintock, becoming animated. ‘The evidence was rock- solid, a perfect DNA match. What more do you need? A ribbon round his dick proclaiming, I fucked Julie Summers then throttled the life out of her?’
‘ I want to know about her broken fingers,’ said Steven, remaining calm. ‘I want to know if the lab found anything under her nails and I want to know why no mention of her fingers was made at the trial.’
McClintock took a long drag on his cigarette and looked at Steven without speaking as if weighing up his chances of winning the argument. Finally, he looked away, exhaled out the side of his mouth and said quietly, ‘The prosecution didn’t need anything else. They had more than enough as it was.’
‘ I know they did,’ said Steven. ‘But I’d still like to know what was available in the shape of back-up evidence.’
A cloud came over McClintock’s face and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. ‘There might be a problem with that,’ he said. ‘Ronnie Lee didn’t exactly run a tight ship.’
‘ Lee was the forensic pathologist?’
McClintock nodded. ‘He was also a premier league piss artist.’
‘ Meaning?’
‘ Meaning his work suffered. Two or three cases went arse over tit when they got to court because of Ronnie’s fuck-ups. Important cases. Big name villains walked free. The Fiscal’s office wasn’t too amused but nothing was done about it except that they preferred not to rely too much on forensics after that.’
‘ Let me get this straight,’ said Steven. ‘You’re telling me that the Fiscal’s office would present a minimum of forensic evidence because they couldn’t trust the lab?’
‘ More or less.’
‘ Jesus,’ said Steven. ‘How long did that situation go on?’
‘ A couple of years. That’s the reason they took the opportunity to get rid of Lee along with the others in the big clear-out after what happened to the Mulveys.’
‘ Nice to know something good came out of their deaths,’ said Steven sourly.
‘ It’s never easy getting rid of someone in Lee’s position,’ said McClintock defensively. ‘People tend to look the other way, make allowances; colleagues cover up as best they can. You wouldn’t believe the number of pathologists I’ve known who’ve had a problem with the bottle.’
‘ Yes I would,’ said Steven without elaboration.
McClintock smiled and said, ‘Sorry, I guess you would. Mind you, Can’t be easy seeing the sights they see every day of their lives.’
‘ It’s more the smells,’ said Steven.
‘ I’ll take your word for it,’ said McClintock, screwing up his face.
‘ Another pint?’
‘ Why not.’
Steven fetched two more beers from the bar and asked, ‘How many of the original murder investigation team are still around?’
‘ None of the principals,’ said McClintock. ‘Chisholm, Currie, Hutton and Lee all fell on their swords. Jane went off to push trolleys.’
Steven gave him a quizzical look.
‘ Cabin crew, British Airways.’
Steven nodded with a smile. He’d been thinking of Tesco’s car park.
‘ I can’t think where the wooden-tops ended up, probably all over the place,’ said McClintock.
‘ What about Lee’s forensic team?’ asked Steven.
‘ Couldn’t really say. We don’t have much to do with the lab on a personal level. We just send in the samples and read the reports.’
‘ I think maybe I’d like to visit the lab,’ said Steven.
McClintock looked at his watch. ‘It’s a bit late now,’ he said. ‘They’ll be closed by the time we get there. Civil service hours.’
Steven nodded and said, ‘Then I’ll stay over.’
‘ Are you sure this is really necessary?’ asked McClintock again. There was no aggression in his voice this time. It was more of an appeal.
‘ I hate loose ends,’ said Steven.
McClintock nodded and paused before saying, ‘It’s as well to know that a lot of people up here are… a bit sensitive about the Julie Summers case.’
‘ That sounded like a warning,’ said Steven.
‘ I’m just telling you how it is,’ said McClintock, ‘and asking you to consider just for a moment that you might be playing Hector Combe’s game for him.’
‘ I’ll bear that in mind,’ said Steven. ‘In the meantime, how do I find the forensics lab?’
‘ Come to Fettes around nine in the morning, I’ll run you over.’
As they stepped outside and started walking back to the car, McClintock asked, ‘Do you know your way around Edinburgh?’
‘ Well enough,’ replied Steven.
‘ There are plenty of small hotels in Ferry Road if you’re looking for a place to stay.’
‘ I’ll be fine,’ replied Steven.
They drove back over to police headquarters and Steven picked up his own car, saying that he’d see McClintock in the morning. He declined his suggestion that they go out on the town together and have a few more beers, saying that he had some paperwork to catch up on and fancied an early night. Neither was strictly true; he just wanted to be on his own to think over the happenings of the day.
Almost on autopilot, he drove over to the south of the city with the intention of booking in at the Grange Hotel. He’d stayed there twice before when in Edinburgh, the first time with Lisa on an overnight stay after attending a concert during the Edinburgh Festival, the second after Lisa’s death when he’d been on an assignment
