Callanach only just made it to the car before Ava pulled away, his foot still hanging out of the passenger door as the tyres squealed. He tried not to visibly hold on to the sides of his seat as she drove and concentrated on asking the questions he needed answering.
‘What do you know about Professor Edwin Harris?’ With anyone else he might have worried about diplomacy but Ava was proving to be the sort of police officer who cut to the chase.
Ava took her eyes off the road for a split second. ‘The man who looks like God dressed for stag hunting?’ Callanach laughed, entirely unexpectedly, and the tension broke. The speedometer needle dropped a notch and he relaxed his grip on the seat. ‘He retired before I became a DI but he was involved in a couple of cases I worked as a detective constable. How come he’s crossed your path?’
‘I’ve been offered his help. Only the definition of offered means I have to take it whether I like it or not. He’s heavily involved in Jayne Magee’s church. The Chief has already been persuaded to agree because it’s free. If I say no and there’s another murder, I’ll be public enemy number one.’ She took a hard right that had Callanach’s cheekbone against the window for a second.
‘Then let me play devil’s advocate. This is free advice from a man who worked with the police for a number of years. Why would you not want it and what have you got to lose?’ Callanach jammed a steadying knee up against the passenger glove box.
‘I’m not convinced a profile is going to take us forward and I’m worried it could lead us in the wrong direction. The worst-case scenario is that we ignore people we should regard as suspects. Also, Harris is personally involved. He’s going to want to get results to appease the church and that may mean he tries too hard to find answers where there are none.’
‘So let him consult, provide a profile then ignore it,’ Ava said.
‘I don’t think I have much choice about that. What I really want to know is if I can trust his professional judgment.’
‘Your gut has already told you not to. I’m sure you don’t need me to tell you to follow your instincts,’ she said, glancing at her watch. ‘Damn it,’ she hissed at a red traffic light.
‘No, but I suppose I was hoping you’d reassure me that my instinct was right.’
‘He’s got your back up because he enjoys the process too much. He doesn’t just look like a child’s drawing of God, he acts like he is one. I felt the same thing the first time I heard him talk in a briefing. He was so self-congratulatory. Every good police officer I know spends their time worrying that they haven’t got it right, haven’t worked hard enough, that they’ve missed something. His whole being oozes the opposite.’
‘Thank you,’ Callanach said. ‘That was exactly what I needed to hear.’
‘Pleasure,’ she said. ‘Only, be smart. He’s been around long enough to have the ears of a few of the top brass. It’s part of what gives him his attitude. Steer clear when you can. If I were you, I’d let the Chief deal with him. You can thank me properly by having my back. It’ll be reassuring to have a senior ranking witness to the complaints I’m about to attract.’ She drove into St Gabriella’s school for the second time. Through the rain, the place looked deserted. Callanach followed Ava to the reception area.
‘Can I help you?’ a woman offered with more disapproval than was necessary. It really did feel like being back at school.
‘DI Turner,’ Ava said flashing her badge, although there wasn’t any doubt that the receptionist was well aware who she was dealing with. ‘You’re the last school on record as having Felicity Costello as a pupil. Is she attending currently?’ Before the woman could answer, a door opened at the back of the office and a man appeared.
‘Information relating to our pupils is highly confidential. Can I ask if you have the proper authority?’ he asked. He was squirrelly, twitching defensively and attempting to cover it with a strained smile. Callanach longed to tell him to stay still.
‘I do,’ Ava replied, handing him the paperwork.
‘Then I’d ask for time to contact the school’s lawyers and have them scrutinise it. I shouldn’t like to be accused of failing to do my duty properly.’
‘Sorry, your name is?’ Ava asked.
‘Justin Currie,’ he said. ‘Head teacher.’
‘This is a serious investigation, Mr Currie, and whilst you’re at liberty to contact the school’s legal representatives I would like access to Felicity Costello’s files straight away.’ Ava’s voice was flat but there was no mistaking her insistence. Currie’s smile began to falter.
‘It can take time to locate each student’s file so if you’d take a seat, I’ll look it out.’ Ava had no intention of taking a seat and Callanach knew it. The head teacher had exceptionally poor people-reading skills if he believed he was going to get away with anything other than following orders.
‘Whilst you are at liberty to contact the school’s lawyers, your receptionist should not notify any other party about our enquiries, I hope that’s clear. DI Callanach and I will accompany you,’ Ava said.
Currie’s smile had stopped fading and was nowhere to be seen. For a second, Callanach thought he might protest but the man’s emotional intelligence finally kicked in and he recognised the brick wall he’d hit.
‘In here,’ he said, pointing through to his office.
Currie’s office was all soft leather, walnut furniture and plush carpet. On the wall above his desk, in a lavish gilt frame, was a picture of a younger version of the head teacher kneeling before some past Pope, although Callanach wasn’t sufficiently good with religious miscellany to be able to recall the pontiff’s name.
Two large filing cabinets stood beneath a window with a view over the girls’ playing field, which today was an abandoned sea of waving greenery. There was no mistaking the benefits of working in the private education sector. Currie walked to the cabinet on the left and opened the top drawer labelled A to D.
‘Remarkably easy to find, in fact, Mr Currie. I’ll take it from here.’ Ava’s hackles were up. Whatever reason Currie had for pretending to need time to locate the file, it certainly wasn’t to assist the police. Ava pulled two files from the drawer, both labelled Costello, and identified Felicity’s.
‘May I enquire what you’re looking for?’ Currie asked. Ava didn’t answer. She was already flicking through the contents, concentrating on finding the information she needed.
‘How many girls attend the school?’ Callanach asked to distract him as Ava worked.
‘Four hundred and twenty, including the sixth form,’ he snapped. ‘What offence are you investigating?’
Ava looked at him sharply. ‘Felicity hasn’t attended this school for the past five months, is that correct?’ He nodded. ‘And at the conclusion of her notes all I can see written is GM. What does that mean?’
There was a pause, a cough and another pause. Callanach watched Ava watching Currie and wondered how long she’d give him. Not very long, as it turned out.
‘Mr Currie, is there a reason you’re not saying anything?’ Ava asked.
‘Am I legally required to answer these questions?’ Currie tried, but the defeat was plain to read on his face.
‘Why would you fail to assist a criminal investigation by answering what should be a straightforward question?’ Ava tucked the file under her arm.
‘It’s an abbreviation for another school. GM is St Gerard Majella’s.’ Currie wasn’t happy.
‘Is that in Edinburgh?’ Callanach asked Ava.
‘If it is, I’ve never heard of it.’ She turned her attention back to Currie.
‘It is,’ he confirmed. ‘Will that be all?’
Ava didn’t bother with any more small talk. She had what she wanted. The school day had a couple more hours to go. They were back in the car in less than a minute. Callanach radioed in the information and the address came back fast.
‘Odd to discover a school I’ve never heard of in the city,’ Ava said. ‘I know the street and I’ve never noticed a school building there.’
This time the blue lights went on when they hit traffic. Callanach left Ava alone with her thoughts as she drove, two marked police cars keeping pace behind them. A social worker had been called to meet them at the address with the doctor who had examined Lucy Costello previously. The school could call Mr and Mrs Costello. Ava had given them a chance to do things the easy way the first time.
St Gerard Majella’s School was an ageing outer-city manor house in a road which must once have housed the area’s moneyed families. It had the distinction of lacking any signage to alert visitors to the institution’s name or purpose. A grand old building, slightly tatty around the edges, it initially appeared to be in need of some updating but the windows and doors were new and a state of the art security system kept them at bay outside a metal-barred gate.
They left the car on the road and were finally buzzed in on foot. Ava stationed two uniformed constables at the front gate and asked a detective to make his way to the rear of the property to ensure that no one left the premises unseen. An enormous wooden door eventually opened and a nun stood at the threshold.
‘Yes?’ she said. There was going to be no false friendliness. Callanach preferred it to Currie’s brief, sickly attempt at charm. Once again, Ava showed her badge but this time it was taken from her and carefully inspected.
‘We need to speak with Felicity Costello,’ Ava said. ‘You’ll want to telephone her parents, but we have child-support staff with us. We’d also like her seen by a doctor.’
‘Come with me,’ was the reply. Callanach studied the nun’s face but it gave nothing away. There was no shock, not even a hint of curiosity and she asked no questions.
‘Currie phoned and warned them,’ Ava whispered to him as the nun freed a heavy ring of keys from her belt. She rattled through several before extending one in the direction of an inner door. Inside, the corridor extended both left and right. Straight ahead of them was another locked door, with a glass panel through which he could see a stairway.
‘Turn left,’ she said and showed them to an office which contained only four straight-backed wooden chairs for visitors, a simple desk and a stool on which she sat. The only testament to the twenty-first century was the communications system on her desk. She pressed a flashing red light on its deck and spoke to someone in another office. ‘Put him on the line,’ she said.
Ava began to protest and was met by a hand raised palm-first in her direction.
‘Mr Costello,’ the nun said. ‘I am in the presence of two police officers who are party to this conversation so that there are no secrets between us. I would like you to confirm that you withdrew Felicity from this school recently and that she is currently in your care.’
‘That’s correct,’ John Costello said without a hint of his previous aggression.
‘Is Felicity with you?’ Ava asked, standing up to raise herself above the level of the hand.
Callanach thought he could hear muffled weeping in the background and wondered if Currie had phoned the school or Felicity’s parents first. Either way, the change in John Costello’s attitude was stark. ‘She’s here,’ he said.
‘We’re on our way. Do not attempt to leave the house. We’ll be with you shortly.’ Ava was already at the door.
‘Remember your duty,’ the nun added. The crying at the other end was getting louder. Mrs Costello was obviously past the point of control.
John Costello added a subdued, ‘Yes, Sister Ernestine,’ before putting down the receiver.
‘Felicity was at her home address all the time. I do hope next time you’ll do your research more thoroughly before causing such a drama,’ the nun said to Ava. Callanach noticed a cane on her desk and picked it up, rotating it in his hands.
‘A reminder of the bad old days, Sister?’ he asked.
‘An educational antique, Constable.’ The slight was deliberate. The nun might not have been rattled by their presence but she was annoyed by it. Ava and Callanach followed Sister Ernestine back along the corridor where she paused to unlock one door then the other.
‘It’s an impressive security system for a school – the cameras, the gates,’ Callanach noted.
‘We are a privately funded school, with the safety of many young girls in our hands. Can you imagine what would happen if the wrong sort of person entered with only myself and my fellow sisters to protect our wards? I should have thought a police officer would have been more understanding of our situation.’ She closed the front door before he could answer. Ava was striding towards her car. Callanach stared up at the windows of the upper floors. Security conscious was an understatement. The windows were sealed, no hinges in sight. Cameras from at least four different locations were trained on him, waiting for him to vacate the area. It was a fortress. What sort of parents would want their daughter educated here? That was the question he asked Ava as he climbed back into the car.
‘Lucy Costello had already received a caution for dealing ecstasy. Maybe the twins are rebelling and Mr and Mrs Costello figured it was better to split them up,’ Ava offered.
Callanach’s mobile rang. Tripp was chasing him on the Chief’s behalf. Fair enough, Callanach thought. What he’d expected to be a half hour away from the station had turned into something much more complicated. He asked for a squad car to meet him at the Costellos’ house and take him back to the station. Ava was going to be some time.
They reached the Costellos’ ahead of the squad car, so Callanach watched as Ava knocked on the door. The child protection social worker introduced herself first, then Ava gently explained to a pale-faced Felicity what was happening. The only words Felicity spoke were to confirm her identity and agree that she was well enough to be interviewed. There was no hint of defiance, no teenage tantrum or overacted cockiness, just a quiet, embarrassed girl whose eyes didn’t once leave the ground. Felicity Costello may have abandoned her baby in a park, but she was just a child and more victim than offender. Ava put a gentle arm around her shoulders and led her to a police car.
The Chief was already ensconced with Professor Harris and DS Lively by the time Callanach got there. It was a shame. Callanach had wanted to state his case privately, in advance. No doubt, he thought, Sergeant Lively had anticipated that.
‘Detective Inspector, I was beginning to think we’d lost you completely,’ Harris said.
Callanach didn’t grace the remark with a response, but glared at the files on Harris’s lap. ‘I did ask that the release of confidential information waited until after this meeting. I’m not convinced this is the appropriate way forward,’ he said.
‘I didn’t want to waste the morning, so the Chief agreed that I could review the missing persons files your constable was compiling. I’ve also spoken with your team and I’m up to speed. What are your current lines of investigation, Inspector?’
‘Mainly forensics. We know he’s using chloroform, that he spends a long time watching his victims, planning his routes. We have a vague description from a dog walker near Jayne Magee’s address but not enough for a sketch.’
‘Sounds like you’re reduced to waiting for him to strike again and hoping you’ll get luckier next time! It’s just as well I was brought in,’ Harris said. Lively murmured his agreement.
Callanach took Ava’s advice and conceded by ceasing to fight. At least Harris couldn’t do too much damage if his only task was to review missing persons files, and it meant Tripp would be freed up.
‘Review the evidence if you wish and let me have your report,’ Callanach said. ‘We can review the day after tomorrow at nine a.m.’
Harris shook his head and tutted. ‘Tomorrow morning at eight will do nicely. I’m a speed reader, Inspector, even with this many documents I won’t need two days to get myself in order. After that, I’d like to spend the rest of the day re-interviewing your witnesses.’
Callanach let Professor Harris make his remaining demands uninterrupted. If nothing else, it had the effect of speeding up the meeting. When the others had gone, the Chief called him back.
‘I know you don’t like it,’ Begbie said, ‘but work with him. It can’t hurt.’
‘If you want a profiler, then I’ll find someone. I managed a few investigations using a very talented Swiss psychologist. I could give her a call.’
‘We can’t fund it,’ DCI Begbie said. ‘Truth is, the man gets on my nerves too, but the effort of excluding him would be a lot greater than letting him do his bit.’
‘I thought you were on their side,’ Callanach said.
‘Give me some credit,’ Begbie said. ‘And just remember that if we don’t catch this murderer soon, it’ll be my head on the block before yours. No pressure.’
‘Right,’ Callanach said. ‘No pressure.’