yellow Post-it note from Bill Nailer in the serology lab; it stated: ‘Interesting reading, I think you’ll find, Rob.’
Brennan leafed through the report; it was short, only three pages. The first page was basic information, details from the victims. By the second page, the meat of the report was becoming evident. The test results were listed on the final page: the findings were conclusive.
‘Interesting indeed, Bill,’ said Rob. As he looked up, DS Stevie McGuire entered the office.
‘What’s that?’
‘Serology report.’
McGuire loosened off his jacket, lowered himself onto the edge of the desk. ‘Bill Nailer, yeah?’
‘Aye.’
‘Well, Bill knows his stuff.’
‘You should have a read at it,’ Brennan handed over the report.
‘What’s it say?’
‘In a nutshell… They have blood samples that are not the victims’.’
‘Gow or Sloan?’
Brennan leaned back, tucked his hands behind his head. ‘Both. They found blood and skin under the nails of the Sloan girl and there was already a blood splatter from Fiona Gow on file. And, they match — it’s a rare group… B.’
‘Jesus, result indeed.’
McGuire eased himself off the desk, started to pore over the report. Brennan interrupted him, ‘Leave that just now, Stevie… I want a word, before the others get in.’
McGuire closed the file, he removed his jacket, folded it over his arm. ‘Look, boss…’
Brennan removed a hand from behind his head, ‘No, Stevie… You listen, don’t speak.’
The DS closed his mouth, turned down the corners. He placed his jacket over the back of the chair and was motioned to sit by Brennan.
‘I’m not going to read you the riot act, so you can rest easy.’
‘That’s a relief…’
‘But you can fucking rest assured I’m not best pleased with you, laddie.’ Brennan was pointing his finger, he let it hang in the air for a moment then removed it.
‘Sir.’
‘When did this WPC Docherty business kick off?’
McGuire exhaled slowly, ‘About a month ago, I suppose.’
Brennan shook his head, ‘A month… For fuck’s sake. And when were you going to tell me?’
McGuire raised his hands, showed palms.
‘No, you were going to wait until you got us both nuts deep, eh…’
McGuire gnawed on his lower lip, ‘I’m sorry… It’s not something I planned.’
‘No, you didn’t think did you? Well, you better had now.’ Brennan rose, walked over to the window. ‘How do you think this looks, Stevie?
… I mean, I’ve had Elaine on the squad from day one… She’s out there in the field with Collins now, if I take her off it’s going to show. Look bad. As for you, well, you were supposed to be my number two, my right hand man.’
McGuire turned in his seat, faced Brennan. ‘I know. I know how it looks, and I’ve thought about it and I really am prepared to take the consequences.’
‘Shut up, Stevie… You’re in no position to judge. Fucking wee head is ruling the big head.’
McGuire dropped his eyes, turned from the DI.
Brennan put his hands in his pockets, jangled his keys as he stared out the window. He watched the clouds gathering over the rooftops and turned around. On his way back to his desk he raised his coffee cup and took a sip, then sat. McGuire was looking the DI over as he placed his hands either side of the desk blotter and spoke, ‘Here’s how it’s going to play out, Stevie… I want you to call a halt to your relationship.’
McGuire leaned forward, interrupted, ‘I don’t think…’
Brennan slapped the desk. ‘Shut up. I said you listen!’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘I want you both to call a halt to this relationship… For the time being. When we have concluded this case then — and only then — if you want to continue this relationship we will make sure WPC Docherty is removed to another work unit. Do you understand me, Stevie?’
McGuire looked up, ‘Yes, sir.’
‘I’m not fucking about, I am cutting you a break here.’
‘I know that, sir.’
‘If you throw it away, we’re both screwed.’
‘I understand.’
‘Do you?… I mean do you really understand?’
McGuire placed his hands on the arms of the chair, raised himself. ‘I understand, sir… This meeting never took place. You do not know anything about a relationship between myself and WPC Docherty and if you are asked to confirm at any point in the future that we have discussed such a thing, you would be entitled to deny it.’
Brennan grinned, ‘I think you’re learning, Stevie.’
Chapter 25
Brennan scanned the blue files he had piled on his desk, tried to see if there was anything that he had missed. Nothing presented itself. He knew the information was coming in, but it was drip by drip when he needed a deluge. He had read about serial killer cases in the past, he knew that they followed a pattern. He was continually surprised by how similar their patterns were and by how closely they could be detailed after the event. The killers were slaves to routine, had habits and timetables that they followed. They were intricate planners, they had to be to avoid detection, evade the police. It was precisely because of this complexity that Brennan knew the cases could run on for months, years even. How long had the Yorkshire Ripper reigned? How many had he killed? Brennan knew the answers to those questions and they distilled fear in his heart. He had to stop this. But the longer the case went unsolved, the harder it would become to catch the killer.
Brennan sat at his desk in the glass-fronted office and watched for the arrival of DS Collins. He was anxious to get feedback from the night before’s visit to The Rondo in George Street. The chances of it turning up anything of use were slim, he knew that, but instinct and experience had taught him to keep trying, even when the odds were against you.
He caught sight of Collins, called him in. The DS was still carrying his coat and briefcase as he reached Brennan’s office.
‘So, how did it go last night?’ he said.
Collins stood with his hands full, swayed on the balls of his feet as he exhaled a slow breath. He seemed to be searching for just the right words. ‘Well, that depends what you were hoping to achieve, boss.’
Brennan bit, ‘Meaning?’
Collins pointed to the chair sitting in front of the desk, ‘Do you mind if I take the weight off?… Murder on the old plates those clubs, just standing around all night, y’know…’
Brennan nodded, ‘Go on, then.’
‘Well, if you wanted us to go out and try and fit in, we did that
…’ Collins ran a palm down his cheek, satisfied himself with the smoothness of his razor cut, said, ‘But, if you were looking for more of a background report on the victims, I’m afraid I’ve nothing really to add to what I told you yesterday.’
Brennan got up from his desk, leaned a shoulder on the wall and folded his arms. He kept an eye on Collins, watched for any signs of optimism, but found none. ‘OK, you and WPC Docherty slotted in, got to know the punters and staff, yeah?’
Collins rested his elbows on the chair’s arms, tapped his fingertips together. ‘Yeah, we did. I have to say,
