A Breakthrough

‘Enter!’ Allan Chisolm barked. Inwardly, he bemoaned the fact senior officers were ninety per cent deskbound. What he wouldn’t give, some days, to be out in the field.

Douglas Dunn bounded in. ‘I’ve made a breakthrough,’ he announced breathlessly.

Chisolm sighed. ‘Sit.’

Douglas bounced up to the desk and sat down.

Chisolm regarded the other man with a jaundiced eye. With his designer suits and Thomas Pink shirts, Douglas was the antithesis of everything Allan Chisolm stood for. With overt distaste, he eyed the baby-pink skin, the soft hands that rested confidently on the edge of the desk. The fingernails were pristine. Chisolm debated whether they were on the receiving end of a regular manicure… As for the haircut, who in hell would pay to have tufty bits sticking up like that?

‘Let’s have it, then.’ He tried to show willing, though in truth he couldn’t be arsed.

‘Well,’ Douglas leaned forward eagerly, ‘you know how we’ve got Gordon Struthers’ laptop?’

‘Affirmative.’

‘And you know how the techies only took a flier at it?’

‘Yes.’ Chisolm wondered where this was going.

‘Well.’ Douglas leaned across the desk. ‘I decided it was worth another look.’

‘You decided?’ Chisolm thundered. ‘On whose authority, Constable?’ He laid all the emphasis on the last word.

‘I – I didn’t think,’ Douglas stuttered.

‘That’s your fucking problem,’ Chisolm retorted. ‘You let your inflated ego lead instead of your fucking brain.’

In a show of humility, Douglas dipped his chin.

‘Look at me, DC Dunn.’

Warily, Douglas looked up.

‘Do I look like I suffer fools?’

‘N-no.’

‘Well, then,’ Chisolm continued. ‘Don’t play silly buggers with me.’

‘Sir.’ The young detective’s eyes slid away.

‘Did you have another look?’ Chisolm relented.

‘I did, sir.’

‘Fancy yourself as a hacker, do you?’

‘No, sir. It’s just…’ He stopped, unsure.

‘Yes?’ Chisolm’s voice rose.

‘My degree was in computer games technology.’

Christ! Chisolm reckoned he’d heard it all. ‘So,’ he continued, ‘let me get this right. With neither his permission, nor the say-so of a superior officer, you broke into Gordon Struthers’ computer. How did you manage that?’ Chisolm’s mind whirred with a catalogue of chargeable offences. ‘No.’ He saw Douglas trying to come up with a slick answer. ‘Better for both of us I don’t know.’

‘For someone with specialist knowledge,’ Douglas responded eagerly, ‘it’s easy enough. The quickest way…’

‘Don’t tell me,’ Chisolm held up a hand. ‘I don’t want to know.’ Still, his curiosity was piqued. ‘Didn’t Struthers’ laptop have security?’

‘Yes, sir. But once you have physical access to a computer, any security measures are effectively worthless.’

Smug bastard, Chisolm thought. ‘Is that right?’ was all he said. Still, he’d written Douglas Dunn off as a waste of space. Maybe, if the lad buttoned his lip once in a while, he could make a contribution to the squad after all.

‘I had a hunch there might be something in the search history,’ Douglas continued.

‘Isn’t that the first place the techies would have looked?’

‘Yes, sir. But they were tight for time, and they wouldn’t have gone in very deep, so I decided to have a rummage around.’

‘Can I take it you found something?’ Chisolm asked.

‘Yes, sir,’ Dunn responded with enthusiasm.

‘What, exactly?’

‘Porn.’

‘Hard porn?’ Chisolm enquired.

‘Not so much hard, sir, as deviant.’

‘Expand.’

‘Domination. Dog collars and that.’

Chisolm sighed. He was depressingly familiar with the degradation men heaped on the female of the species. ‘Anything chargeable?’

‘Not on that account. Though the searches were…’ Dunn cleared his throat. ‘In-depth.’

‘A breakthrough, you said, Dunn? That’s hardly…’

‘There’s more.’

‘I take it this also relates to your…’ Chisolm paused, enjoying watching his DC squirm. ‘Investigative episode?’

Douglas hesitated for a moment, uncertain, then: ‘Yes, sir.’

He reached into his inside pocket and drew out a folded sheet of paper. Carefully smoothing it out, he slid it across the desk.

‘What’s this?’ Chisolm’s eyes narrowed as they ran down the typed sheet.

‘Struthers was still signed in to his Google account. What you have there, sir, is what I also came up with: repeated searches for…’

‘Pharms?’

‘Exactly. Specifically, drugs that leave no trace in the system.’

Chisolm looked down at the paper. Looked up again.

‘So,’ Douglas couldn’t contain himself, ‘Struthers could have ordered the drug online, put it in the wife’s tea, and…’

‘Not so fast.’ Chisolm waved the sheet of paper. ‘This is good work…’ Grudgingly. ‘But it’s not enough. Anyone can surf the net. What we need now is proof that these searches led to concrete action: that drugs were actually bought.’ He steepled his fingers. ‘We need to pull Gordon Struthers back in here, under caution this time. And pronto. See to it, Dunn. That poor woman has suffered enough. And get hold of Strachan. We need a statement from the wife. And we need it now. Once Gordon Struthers is detained, we’ve only got a twelve-hour window to work with.’ He broke off. ‘How much longer do we have that laptop?’

Douglas checked his Apple watch. ‘An hour max. Solicitor is supposed to be sending someone round to pick it up at noon.’

‘Well, we’ve no time to lose. Get yourself back into that computer, Dunn. Chop! Chop!’ Chisolm clapped his hands. ‘Find me that purchase order, Constable. And fast!’