Chisolm

Rain streaked the window as Allan Chisolm power-napped at his desk. After a couple of hours battling with paperwork, his neck and shoulders had seized up. That morning’s gold meeting with strategic command had been a mixed bag: his squad had failed to secure the result they wanted in the Seaton case. Who’d have credited Christopher Gilruth would escape jail? Talk about one law for the rich? The DI let out a derisive snort. If his daddy hadn’t rolled out the big guns in the shape of Louis Valentine, young Christopher – aka Fatboy – would be safely banged up right now.

The inspector had to hand it to his fellow Weegie, Valentine might be a total wanker but he got results. Not that it had been too hard on this occasion: the evidence led by a couple of fledgling female PIs and a bunch of wee boys. Talk about unreliable witnesses! One of the kids was soft in the head, a second denied all knowledge, the third wouldn’t open his mouth at all. As to the tenant of the flat where the alleged criminality took place, Kym whatever-her-name-was had appeared in the witness box so out of it she could hardly tell the time of day.

Valentine had run rings round Maggie Laird as well. Still, it was her own fault for going where she had no business to be. Chisolm hoped she’d learned her lesson and would steer clear of what was, rightly, police business from now on. Mind you… Chisolm stroked his chin. The woman had balls: the way she’d squared up to all the shite that had been thrown at her, and her the size of nothing.

You’re getting soft in your old age, he chided himself. Don’t even think of–

‘Sir?’ A voice broke his train of thought. The door edged open. ‘Got a minute?’ DS Brian Burnett peeked into the room.

Chisolm shoved the budgetary reports to one side. In his opinion, all the flow charts and projections and value assessments in the world were worthless without the manpower vital to effective policing. He straightened in his seat. ‘I can give you ten.’

‘Thanks, sir.’ Brian approached the desk, sat down.

For a few moments there was a strained silence, then: ‘Spill.’

‘It’s about my rank, sir.’

‘What about it?’

‘I wondered…’ Brian twisted his hands in his lap. ‘That is, I was thinking…’

‘Spit it out, Burnett.’

‘Would you be willing to put my application forward to the review panel for inspector?’

Chisolm leaned forward. ‘What brought this on?’

‘I’ve been marking time this past while. My wife and I…you might have heard…?’

Chisolm nodded acknowledgement.

‘And I’ve been thinking – over Christmas and that – it’s time I moved on.’

‘You think going for inspector will help you do that?’

‘Yes, sir.’ Brian did his best to sound positive. ‘I do.’

‘What makes you think there’s a vacancy? Detective inspectors’ jobs aren’t ten a penny, Burnett. Particularly in these times of budget constraints.

‘I heard on the grapevine, sir, you were being tipped for DCI.’

Chisolm grimaced. ‘Did you, now?’

‘It’s not true, then?’

‘Might be.’ Guarded voice. ‘Though the outcome of the Seaton drugs business was less than satisfactory. Could go against me.’

‘Maybe so, sir. But that was only one part of the picture. You surely scored brownie points with the powers that be over your handling of that student’s death. And the university mummies and daddies will be mighty happy if the council clean up Seaton Park. Whatever, if you were to move up, it would create an opening.’

‘Which a number of candidates could apply for.’

Brian’s face flushed crimson. ‘I realise that, sir. But we all know Wood’s marking time, and I doubt Duffy would be bothered. He’s got his hands full at home.’

‘Yes, yes.’ Chisolm drummed his fingers on the desktop. ‘I know. How about Dunn, though?’

Brian eyed his superior. ‘Lad’s ambitious.’ Did he detect the hint of a smirk? ‘He’ll want to go for sergeant.’ Smarmy little bastard, he thought. ‘But it’s mebbe a bit early.’ He wasn’t going to diss the guy. Brian knew Douglas had rubbed enough noses in it to queer his own pitch.

‘If I were to put you forward, Burnett,’ Chisolm fixed him with a hard stare, ‘what, do you think, are your chances of success?’

‘I’ve done my time as sergeant, sir, got a solid track record. Plus…’ he broke off.

‘Go on.’

‘I’m an all-rounder: good in the field, on top of the admin, well-developed social skills…’

‘I hear you.’

‘So if there are any,’ he cleared his throat, ‘developments, I’d appreciate if you’d give me the nod.’

‘I’ll do that.’ Chisolm looked at his watch. ‘But for now…’

‘Sir.’ Brian took the hint. He rose to his feet and hurried from the room.