A Pantomime

Brian Burnett sat in Chisolm’s office. Hidden by the desk, his left knee jerked spasmodically.

Chisolm fixed him with a gimlet eye. ‘As senior interviewing officer, Burnett, would you care to explain this morning’s proceedings?’

Brian quailed. When Dunn had stormed back into the interview room, red-faced, he’d suspected something was awry. What he hadn’t bargained for was the ensuing chaos.

‘Well, sir,’ he began, ‘you’ll have received Strachan’s report.’

Chisolm inclined his head.

‘So you’ll know Sheena Struthers is standing by her allegations?’

‘I do,’ Chisolm snapped. ‘In a statement given to a junior DC acting without authority.’

Brian’s shirt collar felt suddenly too tight. He ran a forefinger round the inside, felt the perspiration pooling at the nape of his neck.

‘Thus rendering its use in evidence against the suspect inadmissable.’

‘Sir.’

‘I’ll deal with Strachan later. Meantime, cut to the chase, Burnett. Tell me what happened in that room.’

‘Dunn was lead interviewer. Kicked off with the porn. More to unsettle the suspect than anything.’

‘I was under the impression that had already been covered.’ Chisolm’s voice held a sharp edge.

‘Affirmative.’

‘So Dunn was having a bit of sport, is that what you’re trying to tell me?’

Brian shifted in his seat. ‘You could say that, sir.’

‘I thought I told you to keep Dunn in check.’ He saw Brian’s face flush. ‘Oh. Never mind. How did Struthers react?’

‘Had the desired effect.’

‘Then what?’

Brian’s shirt was sticking to his back by now, sweat pricking his chest. He took a deep breath. ‘Dunn shows him the pharms searches. Struthers maintains total ignorance. The solicitor starts jumping up and down, screaming there’s no foundation, it’s all conjecture. Dunn’s just producing the copy order for the GHB when Strachan calls him out the room.’

‘So,’ Chisolm snarled. ‘DC Strachan finally chose to honour us with her presence?’

‘Yes, sir. She’d been at the hospital out of radio contact, and…’

Brusquely, Chisolm interrupted. ‘I’ll deal with her later. But back to Dunn. When he was outside, what happened?’

‘Solicitor goes head-to-head with Struthers, whispering Christ-knows-what. Could have been framing a positional statement, given the new evidence, whatever. Then, Dunn comes crashing back in. Says the wife has given a statement standing by her allegations.’

‘What was the reaction?’

‘Struthers fell apart. Literally. Toppled sideways off the chair, curled up on the floor, crying like a bairn. His specs flew off and got broken in the fall, and…’

‘The solicitor, what was he doing?’

‘Sitting there like a spare prick giving Douglas the evils.’

‘And you, Burnett? Where were you while all this was going on?’

Brian reddened. ‘I have to hold my hands up, sir, there were a few moments I just sat there. Didn’t know what the hell was going on. Then I went to render first aid to Mr Struthers.’

‘Mmm.’ Chisolm rolled his pen between finger and thumb. ‘Was he faking it, would you say?’

‘Hard to say, sir. I put him in the recovery position, and…’

‘Why did you think it necessary to summon an ambulance?’

‘I didn’t, sir. That was Struthers’ solicitor. Insisted upon it. He claimed his client had a panic attack. “On account of our mishandling of the interview process”. Those are the exact words he used.’

Chisolm tapped the end of the pen on the desktop. ‘Quite.’

He paused. ‘Did they keep him in?’

‘Who?’

‘Struthers, you idiot.’

‘Yes, sir, I checked. Detained overnight for observation.’

‘Christ.’ Chisolm chucked the pen the length of the room. ‘We’ve got a full fucking cast.’

‘I’m not with you, sir.’

‘Up at Foresterhill. Husband. Wife. And Bobby Brannigan for good measure. All we need now is for that fucker Gilruth to meet with a mishap and we’ll be able to present a full fucking pantomime.’

Brian studied the carpet.

‘Get out,’ Chisolm barked.

‘Sir.’ Brian leapt to his feet. He shot out of the room, pulling the door to behind him. With hurried steps he made for the male toilets. All of a sudden, he had a desperate urge to pee.