‘You paid a visit to that fathers’ rights bloke, didn’t you?’
Detective Sergeant Janie Harrison looked up from her desk to see who had spoken, saw the duty sergeant standing in the doorway. ‘Aye, what of it?’
‘We’ve just had a report of a disturbance. Bunch of protesters broke into the meeting and started screaming at everyone there, apparently.’
Janie sat up straighter, resisting the urge to glance at the clock on the wall. She’d been filling the time to shift end going over the Cecily Slater case notes for perhaps the thousandth time, but now she could see both that and an early night slipping from her grasp.
‘Who’s attending?’ she asked.
‘Uniforms out of Torphichen Street mostly. It’s a bit of a mess, way I hear it. You know what these angry feminists can be like.’ The duty sergeant’s brain caught up with his mouth and he shrugged away his embarrassment. ‘No offence.’
Janie wondered how it would go down if she told him that actually yes, there was considerable offence. Reg was a time-served sergeant, close to retirement, old school and very much set in his ways. She might have been the same rank as him now, and as a detective sergeant the senior officer in the room, but given she’d only been a detective sergeant for a few weeks, it was a point she thought best let go.
‘Who’s in charge over there?’ She picked up her phone and notebook, both lying on the desk beside her keyboard.
‘Kenny Stephen, I think. No’ really something plain clothes need to be involved in, but I thought you’d want to know. Seeing as you were there before.’
He was right. There was no need for her to get involved at all. The hotel wasn’t far from her flat though, or at least it was a good deal closer than the station. And it wasn’t all that long until shift end.
‘I’ll just pop over and see what’s happening all the same. It’s on the way home, and chances are Fielding will be bending the ear of anyone he can find. Better to be one step ahead, aye?’
The duty sergeant raised an eyebrow but said nothing more as Janie gathered the rest of her things together and turned off her computer. He stood aside to let her leave the room, and only then did she remember her manners, or rather that it was always a good idea to be nice to the duty sergeant, however misogynistic he might be.
‘Thanks for the tip-off, Reg. I owe you one,’ she said, but hurried away before he could make good on her offer.
By the time Janie reached the hotel, there was nothing left but a pair of squad cars parked on a double yellow line. A uniformed constable stood a few paces from the front door, chatting with Detective Constable Blane. With his back to her, Lofty didn’t notice she was there until she tapped him on the arm.
‘What the—?’ He whirled around in surprise, almost clocking her on the side of the head. ‘Jesus, Janie. What’re you doing creeping up on me like that?’
‘You got my message then?’ she said, to cover her alarm. It was one thing to know the detective constable hadn’t meant her any harm, quite another to still feel the rush of air on her face as a hand not much smaller than her head brushed past it with millimetres to spare.
‘Aye. Was heading home, but I figured this must be important. Davey here was telling me they’ve got it all under control, mind.’ Lofty waved his dangerous hand at the uniformed constable, and Janie recognised one of her old colleagues hiding under his hat and cold weather gear.
‘Hey, Janie. How’s it goin’? Hear you made sergeant now so I s’pose I should call you ma’am.’
‘Funny, Dave. How about you just let me know what happened.’
‘Well, you know that bloke Tommy Fielding’s here, right? Giving talks about men’s rights and all that stuff?’
‘Aye, Davey. I spoke with him a while back. And the protesters outside. Seemed peaceful enough, if a bit loud and smelly. I don’t need the full story, just where you came in.’
‘We got a call from hotel security maybe an hour, hour and a half ago? Some of the protesters had managed to get in through a fire door round the back. Fielding was talking to a group of maybe a hundred or so in the main conference room when they all burst in and started screaming.’
‘Screaming?’
‘Aye, that’s what it was. They didn’t do anything violent. Didn’t break furniture or try to hurt anyone, like. They were just wailing at the top of their lungs. Proper banshee stuff, y’know? Security dragged them out best they could, but it ruined the event.’
‘My heart bleeds for them. Where are the protesters now?’
‘Some of them got away. Some the security guys threw out. Most of them had dispersed by the time we got here, but there’s a half-dozen had somehow managed to barricade themselves in a smaller function room. They’ve been taken off to your nick, seeing as ours doesn’t have enough holding cells any more.’
‘Ah well, I guess that’ll keep Reg happy. Suppose I’d better go and speak to Mr Fielding again. Then I can go home and have a shower to wash the dirt off.’
‘He’s no’ that bad,’ the constable said.
‘Aye he is. Worse. He’s the reason women can’t go out on their own after dark. He’s the reason we have to think twice about what we wear and who we talk to. It’s people like him putting stupid ideas into young men’s heads that means I spend half of my life interviewing victims of domestic violence and lying when I tell them we’ll keep them safe.’ Janie walked off before she lost her temper, or had to hear any reply, only stopping when she reached the front door and saw Lofty wasn’t following. ‘Come on, then,’ she shouted. Eventually the detective constable nodded goodbye to his friend and followed her inside.
‘Was that really necessary, Janie?’ he asked once they’d stepped into the reception area.
‘Was what necessary?’
‘Chewing wee Davey’s ear off like that. And what you said about Fielding. He’s the injured party here, remember?’
Janie stopped herself from shaking her head. This wasn’t the time or place to get into an argument with a colleague she had a lot of respect for, even if on this particular point he was as wrong as wrong could be.
‘Let’s just get this over with, shall we?’ She went to the reception desk and showed her warrant card. Before she could even ask, the receptionist pointed to a door across the hall.
‘Mr Fielding’s in the Walter Scott bar at the moment.’
Janie thanked the man, then led Lofty in the direction they’d been pointed. The Walter Scott bar was much like any posh hotel bar, quieter than most pubs and with an interior design that leaned rather too heavily on shiny red leather and polished wood for her tastes. Standing in the doorway, she didn’t have time to scan the whole room before an angry voice piped up from a table of people off to one side.
‘Detective Sergeant Harrison. It’s about bloody time someone showed up.’
What was it the boss said to do in situations like this? A silent count to ten, wasn’t it? Janie curled her hands into loose fists as she let the numbers grow, then turned slowly to meet her accuser, fake smile plastered across her face.
‘Mr Fielding. I’m so sorry your event was disrupted. I gather nobody was hurt?’ A slight inflection at the end of the sentence made it a question, even though she knew the answer. It was more an invitation to the man to talk, which he clearly needed to do. Or at least rant.
‘It’s a disgrace. You should have moved them on when I asked you to. None of this would have happened if you’d just done your job.’
Janie only half heard what the man had to say. She was too busy looking at the group of men who were sitting with him. She didn’t immediately recognise any of them, but they all seemed cast from the same mould. Middle-aged, fairly well-to-do, well groomed and yet somehow greasy. Or was that just her prejudices getting the better of her? Only one of the men seemed out of place. A bit younger than the rest, rougher around the edges. He caught her eye and then looked away like a guilty suspect.
‘I can assure you we take the matter most seriously, Mr Fielding. I will speak with hotel security and find out how the protesters got in. As I’m sure you’re well aware though, whilst they were outside and not causing an actual public nuisance, there wasn’t much we could do about them.’
She knew it wasn’t going to mollify him, and she wasn’t disappointed. Perhaps it had been a mistake coming here; better to have sent a male officer. Maybe even Lofty on his own, although Janie knew that Fielding would have taken it as an insult to be dealt with by a mere constable.
‘Preposterous.’ He mangled the word, something of his true nature fighting through the false posh Edinburgh accent he affected most of the time. ‘I’ll see the ones who broke in prosecuted. Mark my words. They’ll do time for this.’
Janie found herself clenching her fists even tighter, started mentally counting to ten again. To her surprise, and relief, Lofty stepped in before she could say anything she might regret later.
‘Did any of the women say anything, sir?’ He had his notebook out, and even though Janie could see he’d not written anything down, it was an effective prop. Fielding clearly liked being called sir too.
‘The redhead called me a paedophile, which is gross slander, I’ll have you know. The rest of them were just screaming like witches. Horrible racket, wasn’t it, lads?’ Fielding finally turned to his companions. Janie noticed that none of them looked too happy about being dragged into the conversation, with the exception of the younger man. Maybe he had less of a reputation to lose, or maybe he hadn’t yet understood what his being associated with Fielding might mean.
‘It was like they were zombies or something. Ken that movie wi’ the pod people? Had Spock from Star Trek in it, aye? The first Spock, ken? No’ that new chappie. What’s it called?’
‘Invasion of the Body Snatchers?’ Janie had to admit she was impressed the man would know about an old movie like that. He seemed more the football and beer type. Then again, it was never a good idea to judge a person solely by their appearance. Or even the company they kept.
‘Aye, that’s the one. See that fella at the end, how he kind of points and screams? That’s what they was like in there.’ The young man nodded his head in the direction of the conference room. His companions looked embarrassed to be seen out with him, but he seemed to be warming to his theme.
‘Would you be prepared to make a statement, Mr . . . ?’ Janie let the question hang, hopeful that the young man might give her his name. Fielding had other plans, however.
‘I’m sure there’ll be time for that later. When you’ve pressed charges against the miscreants.’
‘You’re a lawyer, Mr Fielding, so I’m sure you understand how these things work. My job is to collect evidence and build a case before charges can be brought. If you’d like to give me a list of the names of everyone who attended this evening’s meeting, I can take statements from them all. This is, after all, a very serious breach of the peace.’
Something close to anger flitted across Fielding’s face. Janie could feel the change in the atmosphere, too. Almost as if his temperature had spiked and was heating the air between them. And was it her imagination, or had the bar suddenly gone very quiet?
‘I’ll expect to be kept informed of developments, Detective Sergeant Harrison.’ Fielding put heavy emphasis on Janie’s surname in a ham-fisted attempt to intimidate her. He knew who she was, it said, and he’d make sure she’d pay if he didn’t get what he wanted. She merely stared at him, even though what she really wanted to do was punch him in the face. A condescending smile, a silent count of ten. That’s what the boss would do. She’d only got as far as seven when Fielding broke.
‘Come on, lads. Let’s go find somewhere a bit more private, aye?’
Janie stepped aside as the group all stood to leave. Most left unfinished drinks, but the young man with the better than average knowledge of seventies cinema quickly downed the remains of his pint before joining them. She gave him a little nod as he hurried to join the others, and he smiled back nervously. In moments they were gone.
‘Well, that went OK, wouldn’t you say, Lofty?’
DC Blane looked down at her as if she was mad. ‘You know he’s going to make a formal complaint, right? And he’s mates wi’ the chief constable?’
Janie wiped her forehead, surprised to find a slight dampness there. ‘Aye, I do. And he probably will. Just hope it hits the right desk. I was kind of getting used to being a sergeant.’