A Darker Domain. Val McDermid

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СКАЧАТЬ more. Never mind that the worst offenders came from outside forces, bussed in to make up the numbers and paid obscene amounts of overtime to oppress their fellow citizens in ways most people chose to avoid knowing about. The fallout from their ignorance and arrogance affected every officer in every coalfield force. Still did, Karen reckoned. She took a deep breath and looked up. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘The way they treated the miners, it was inexcusable. I like to think we wouldn’t act like that now, but I’m probably wrong. Are you sure there wasn’t anybody he’d had a run-in with?’

      Jenny didn’t even pause for thought. ‘Not that I knew about. He wasn’t a troublemaker. He had his principles, but he didn’t use them as excuses to pick fights. He stood up for what he believed in, but he was a talker, not a fighter.’

      ‘What if the talking didn’t work? Would he back down?’

      ‘I’m not sure I follow you.’

      Karen spoke slowly, feeling her way into the idea. ‘I’m wondering if he bumped into this Iain Maclean that day and tried to talk him out of going to Nottingham. And if Iain wouldn’t change his mind, and maybe had his pals there to back him up…Would Mick have got into a fight with them, maybe?’

      Jenny shook her head firmly. ‘No way. He’d have said his piece and, if that didn’t work, he’d have walked away.’

      Karen felt frustrated. Even after the passage of so much time, cold cases usually provided one or two loose ends to pick away at. But so far, there seemed to be nothing to reach for here. One last question, then she was out of this place. ‘Do you have any idea at all where Mick might have gone painting that day?’

      ‘He never said. The only thing I can tell you is that in the winter he often went along the shore to East Wemyss. That way, if it came on rain, he could go down to the caves and shelter there. The preservation group, they had a wee bothy at the back of one of the caves with a camping stove where they could brew up. He had keys, he could make himself right at home,’ she added, the acid back in her voice. ‘But I’ve no idea whether he was there that day or not. He could have been anywhere between Dysart and Buckhaven.’ She looked at her watch. ‘That’s all I know.’

      Karen got to her feet. ‘I appreciate your time, Mrs Prentice. We will be continuing our inquiries and I’ll keep you informed.’ The Mint scrambled to his feet and followed her and Jenny to the front door.

      ‘I’m not bothered for myself, you understand,’ Jenny said when they were halfway down the path. ‘But see if you can find him for the bairn’s sake.’

      It was, Karen thought, the first sign of emotion she’d shown all morning. ‘Get your notebook out,’ she said to the Mint as they got into the car. ‘Follow-ups. Talk to the neighbour. See if she remembers anything about the day Mick Prentice disappeared. Talk to somebody from the cave group, see who’s still there from 1984. Get another picture of what Mick Prentice was really like. Check in the files for anything about this Andy Kerr, NUM official, supposedly committed suicide around the time Mick disappeared. What’s the story there? And we need to track down these five scabs and get Nottingham to have a chat with them.’ She opened the passenger door again as the Mint finished scribbling. ‘And since we’re here already, let’s have a crack at the neighbour.’

      She was barely two steps from the car when her phone rang. ‘Phil,’ she said.

      No pleasantries, just straight to the point. ‘You need to get back here right now.’

      ‘Why?’

      ‘The Macaroon is on the warpath. Wants to know why the hell you’re not at your desk.’

      Simon Lees, Assistant Chief Constable (Crime), was temperamentally different from Karen. She was convinced his bedtime reading consisted of the Police, Public Order and Criminal Justice (Scotland) Act 2006. She knew he was married with two teenage children but she had no idea how that could have happened to a man so obsessively organized. It was sod’s law that on the first morning in months when she was doing something off the books the Macaroon should come looking for her. He seemed to believe that it was his divine right to know the whereabouts of any of the officers under his command, whether on or off duty. Karen wondered how close he’d come to stroking out on discovering she was not occupying the desk where he expected to find her. Not close enough, by the sounds of it. ‘What did you tell him?’

      ‘I said you were having a meeting with the evidence store team to discuss streamlining their cataloguing procedures,’ Phil said. ‘He liked the idea, but not that fact that it wasn’t listed in your electronic appointments list.’

      ‘I’m on my way,’ Karen said, confusing the Mint by getting back into the car. ‘Did he say why he was looking for me?’

      ‘To me? A mere sergeant? Gimme a break, Karen. He just said it was “of the first importance”. Somebody probably stole his digestive biscuits.’

      Karen gestured impatiently at the Mint. ‘Home, James, and don’t spare the horses.’ He looked at her as if she was mad but he did start the car and drove off. ‘I’m coming in,’ she said. ‘Get the kettle on.’

Glenrothes

      The double helix of frustration and irritation twisted in Simon Lees’ gut. He shifted in his chair and rearranged the family photos on his desk. What was wrong with these people? When he’d gone looking for DI Pirie and failed to find her where she should be, DS Parhatka had acted as if that were perfectly fine. There was something fundamentally lackadaisical about the detectives in Fife. He’d realized that within days of arriving from Glasgow. It amazed him that they’d ever managed to put anyone behind bars before he’d arrived with his analytical methods, streamlined investigations, sophisticated crime linkage and the inevitable rise in the detection rate.

      What riled him even more was the fact that they seemed to have no gratitude for the modern methods he’d brought to the job. He even had the suspicion that they were laughing at him. Take his nickname. Everybody in the building seemed to have a nickname, most of which could be construed as mildly affectionate. But not him. He’d discovered early on that he’d been dubbed the Macaroon because he shared the surname of a confectionery firm whose most famous product had become notorious because of an ancient advertising jingle whose cheerful racism would provoke rioting in the streets if it were to be aired in twenty-first-century Scotland. He blamed Karen Pirie; it was no coincidence that the nickname had surfaced after his first run-in with her. It had been typical of most of their encounters. He wasn’t quite sure how it happened, but she always seemed to wrong-foot him.

      Lees still smarted at that early memory. He’d barely got his feet under the table but he’d started as he meant to go on, instigating a series of training days. Not the usual macho posturing or tedious revision of the rules of engagement, but fresh approaches to issues of modern policing. The first tranche of officers had assembled in the training suite and Lees had started his preamble, explaining how they would spend the day developing strategies for policing a multicultural society. His audience had looked mutinous and Karen Pirie had led the charge. ‘Sir, can I make a point?’

      ‘Of course, Detective Inspector Pirie.’ His smile had been genial, hiding his annoyance at being interrupted before he’d even revealed the agenda.

      ‘Well, sir, Fife’s not really what you’d call multicultural. We don’t have many people here who are not indigenous Brits. Apart from the Italians and the Poles, that is, and they’ve been here so long we’ve forgotten they’re not from here.’

      ‘So racism’s all right by you, is it, Inspector?’ Maybe not the best СКАЧАТЬ