‘DVDs?’ asked Phil. He spoke with all the enthusiasm of a man contemplating root canal work. ‘Do we have to?’
‘I’ve had to suffer, I don’t see why the rest of you shouldn’t,’ said Elli.
‘Are they… are they like that?’ Sperring could barely look at the screen.
‘I just looked at a few of them,’ she said. ‘Pretty similar.’
‘We’d better go through them,’ said DCI Cotter. ‘Or someone should. Let’s work this in shifts.’
‘I think we should pay a visit to Glenn McGowan’s wife,’ said Phil. He was aware of Sperring’s instant, and not at all pleasant, attention. He turned to him. ‘Coming with me?’
‘D’you need to do that now?’ asked Cotter.
‘The photos show pretty conclusively that Glenn McGowan’s our victim. We’ll have to get his wife to do a formal identification. But I’d also like to have a talk with her first. See if she can throw some light on their relationship, what led to him leaving home, setting up here. See if there’s anything she can tell us.’
‘Right. We’ll get a car to bring her in.’
‘I think it might be better if Ian and I go,’ said Phil. ‘Talk to her where she feels comfortable, before the circus starts up around her.’
Cotter nodded. ‘Good idea. Off you go. I’ll get a family liaison officer down there first. Prepare the way for you.’
‘Appreciate it. Thanks.’ He turned to DC Khan. ‘Nadish, can you get started on the DVDs? Thanks.’ Then back to Sperring. ‘Come on.’
Sperring followed Phil out. Khan staring after them, looking less than happy.
‘Thought you were just trying to get out of looking at the DVDs,’ said Sperring as Phil drove down the M6, Warren Zevon issuing lightly from the speakers, singing about how life’ll kill ya, following the sat nav to the address they had been given for Julie McGowan.
‘Yeah,’ said Phil, ‘doing a death message. Always the easy option.’
‘Wonder if they shared frocks?’ Sperring laughed as he spoke. ‘Maybe he looked better in them than she did. That’s why she threw him out.’ More laughter.
Phil didn’t reply. Sperring stared at him, then turned away, gazing out of the window, lips curled like he had something bitter in his mouth.
‘Look, Ian,’ said Phil, not taking his eyes off the road, ‘I know you have a problem with me. D’you want to get it aired, here and now, when there’s just the two of us? Just so we can get on with things.’
Sperring said nothing.
‘So what’s the problem?’
Sperring gnawed his lower lip, deciding whether to answer or not. And if so, how much truth to put behind it. Phil kept at it.
‘You don’t like having me as a boss, do you?’
‘You want me to be honest, sir? No. I don’t.’
‘Right. Any particular reason? Something I’ve done?’
More lip-chewing, then, ‘You shouldn’t have been brought in in the first place. A spare DI position should have been filled from within the team.’
‘And you think you should have got it?’
‘Why not? I’ve put in the years, I’ve given good service. I put in for it but they gave it to you.’
‘And that’s why you don’t like me.’
‘One of the reasons, yeah.’
Phil found he was gripping the wheel tighter than he needed to. He also noticed his speed was creeping up. ‘Any others?’
‘We don’t trust you.’
‘We?’
‘The lads in the team. You’re… not like one of us.’
‘You mean I’m not some unimaginative Daily Mail-reading, misogynistic, homophobic twat?’
Sperring didn’t answer.
‘Well get this straight, Ian. We might not see eye to eye on things. You might not like me. You might think I’m a Guardian-reading liberal. I don’t care. But we’re on the same team. My team. And we’ve got to work together. Understand?’
Sperring tried to shrug. ‘Sure. Whatever.’
‘No. Not whatever. It means we put aside what we might think of each other. It means you don’t piss about or rock the boat or try to undermine what I say or the way I do things. It means you’re either on my team or you’re not. Got that?’
Sperring gave a mock salute. ‘Yes, sir.’
‘Good.’ Phil realised that was the best he could hope for from his DS. Not for the first time or, he imagined, the last, he wished he had his old team back with him.
They drove the rest of the way without speaking, Warren Zevon the only thing to puncture the silence.