Jim Prentice was putting on his coat as the squad returned to the station. The desk sergeant took a moment to pause, with one hand half way down the sleeve of his coat, as he eyed the returning officers. There was a moment of complete silence as Prentice stood, frozen, making the surreal shape of a drinking elephant with his coat sleeve. He broke the image by glancing at the clock, and then over to the slouching Malcolm Frizzle, being led briskly towards the front desk by DI Davis.
‘You’re having a laugh, aren’t you?’ said Prentice.
‘Sorry, call it one for the road.’
‘I’ve been here since seven a.m., that’s a twelve-hour shift I’ve put in and I don’t get any bloody overtime!’
Valentine made his way to the front of the desk and, grudgingly, joined in the discourse. ‘Haven’t you got anyone to replace you?’
‘Willkie’s not due in for another hour.’
‘Well, who’s manning the desk?’
‘Wee Stevie Sims, but he’s only ducking in – he’s covering the cells.’
‘This place is a joke,’ said the DCI.
‘I don’t see anyone laughing, Bob. Can’t be a very funny joke.’ He pulled his arm from his coat sleeve, causing it to turn inside out. The rest of the coat was bunched up, ruffling and sagging, and flung on the chair.
‘Right, you . . . name?’ said Prentice gruffly.
‘Thanks, Jim.’
‘Aye right. I’ll get my reward in heaven, I suppose.’
Davis put his hand on Frizzle’s shoulder, forcing him to jerk away and begin another tirade. ‘You just can’t do this to me.’
‘Oh, we can and we are,’ said Valentine.
‘I know my rights.’
‘Good. You’ll know we’ll bring you a cup of tea in the morning then, which is a damn sight more that you did for that wee girl.’
The DCI’s pointed remark passed Frizzle by. ‘Morning! You’re keeping me in all night?’
‘It’ll give you some time to sleep on what I said, Malky.’
Valentine nodded towards DI Davis and headed for the stairs. He was ready to head straight back out the door, go home and try to patch things up with Clare again, but there seemed to be little prospect of that looming.
At the top of the stairs the DCI waited for DI McCormack to catch him up. ‘Look, Sylvia, it’s been a long day for everyone, if you want to get off home no one will blame you.’
‘No chance of that, boss. I’m supposed to be shadowing you, remember?’
‘I think I can cut you some slack.’
‘It’s fine, really. All I’m going home to is a microwave lasagne and to catch up on the idiot box.’
Valentine felt a pang of sympathy for her, even with all his own home problems, he always had Clare and the girls to go home to. The idea of returning to an empty flat after the day they’d just had was almost too painful to contemplate. They continued through to the incident room, where DS Donnelly was standing in front of the board, pinning pictures up.
‘What’s all this about Jean Clark turning up out of the blue?’ said Valentine.
Donnelly turned away from the board and took a few steps towards the others. ‘She sure has. DVLC found her; she’s been living in a mobile home in Croy.’
‘Croy. Not the caravan park on the beach?’
The DS leaned over the desk and retrieved a piece of notepaper. ‘Looks like it, is that the wee park right down the front?’
‘There’s only one. Pretty exposed spot, wouldn’t fancy it in the bad weather. Still, it’s a quiet place, if that’s what you’re after.’
‘I suppose we’ll find out tomorrow,’ said DI McCormack.
Valentine pulled a chair out from under a desk and wheeled it into the middle of the floor. Since he looked to be getting settled the others followed suit, forming a semicircle on the worn and faded carpet tiles.
‘What about Frizzle,’ said Donnelly. ‘Is he coming in?’
‘We have him downstairs.’
‘In the cells?’
‘Davis is turning the key now. We’ll have a word with him tomorrow,’ said the DCI. ‘What can you tell us about this bunch of teenage trespassers you’ve just spoken to.’
Donnelly ran his thumb and forefinger down the length of his tie, flicking it up as he reached the tip. ‘Christ, where to start? I have to say, I thought they were winding me up at first, but I put their stories to the test and they seem completely genuine.’
‘Come on then, let’s hear what they had to say.’
‘Do you remember when you said you’d met the bloke on the tractor who called the Sutherland estate Area 51?’
McCormack cut it, ‘Oh yeah, the tinfoil-hat bloke.’
‘Yeah, him. Well, I wondered what he was referring to, and now I think I know.’
Valentine leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs. ‘This sounds interesting.’
‘Well, two of the girls got to know Frizzle at a bus stop in Monkton where they were hanging around at night. It’s a small village, there’s not much to do and Frizzle was a flashy git with a motor, so they’re going to be easy meat to the likes of him.’
‘Go on.’
‘He started taking the girls for drives, plying them with a bit of grass, a bit of booze; they lapped it up, obviously. But the main part of his shtick was bigging himself up, making himself out to be the big man.’
‘I think I see where this is going,’ said McCormack.
‘Well, yes and no,’ said Donnelly, moving his hands like a puppeteer. ‘You see, his talk kind of had the opposite effect. It put the girls right off him and put their curiosity and their boredom onto something completely different.’
Valentine’s interest started seeping into impatience. ‘That’s enough build-up, Phil. Get to the point, please.’
‘I’m coming to it. Frizzle told the girls about some strange goings-on at his workplace: the Sutherland estate, which already had an air of notoriety in the village, as we know.’
‘What did he tell them?’
‘A lot of it was quite disjointed. I’m going to go over the notes tonight and write everything up. But, the girls said Frizzle told them about high-rollers being flown in for masked balls and all kinds of freaky events.’
‘Back up there – high-rollers?’
‘They didn’t have names, but the rumours were of rich and powerful types. Elites, celebrities, politicians. The thing is, they were adamant about the masked balls turning into orgies and bizarre rituals. Frizzle spoke about goats being cut up and people running about the grounds naked.’
‘Are they for real?’
‘I told you, they’re one hundred per cent certain. They said that’s what took them to the estate in the first place. They couldn’t see inside the property though, because all the windows are above the line of the floor to stop you seeing in. Frizzle told them that even the main hall and the dance hall have no windows and the staff can’t go there. When these events are going on the staff have to pass drinks through a double hatch so they can’t see in.’
‘Well, that sort of stuff should be easy enough to check,’ said McCormack.
‘You think so? Sutherland wouldn’t let us in his property today.’
Donnelly interrupted. ‘Another thing the girls told me was, and I found this odd, that all the bedrooms are interconnected. What I mean is, there’s doors from one to the other. Why on earth would you need all the rooms to be connected?’
‘If you’re changing partners like a game of musical chairs, it’s a must, I would imagine,’ said the DI.
‘My thoughts entirely,’ said Valentine. ‘And if your property’s laid out like a posh knocking shop, the last thing you’re going to do is allow a nosy detective in for a look around, just in case it gives him any ideas about poking his nose into your activities.’
McCormack seemed to be deep in thought, but broke their thrall. ‘Sir, can I put something out there?’
‘Fire away.’
‘I don’t know if this is relevant, but if you remember the estate opens onto the airport.’
‘Oh, I think that’s very relevant, Sylvia. If you’re a member of this perverted jet set I’d say privacy would be at a premium, wouldn’t you?’