Rush to Judgement Page 6

  ‘Try to find out who his father is and if he’s still around.’

  ‘Better not ask the old boy. He looks like he takes a dive off the deep end without much of a push.’

  ‘Aye, you’re right. But take the rest of the night off,’ Dunbar said. ‘I’m going to FaceTime Cathy. Catch you in the morning. Get Vern to give you a lift back to the hotel. But none of your bloody shenanigans.’

  ‘As if.’

  Twelve

  Alex was sitting with a cold, wet facecloth on her forehead. ‘I’m sorry you had to find out that way, honey. I’d planned so many ways to tell you in my head. In the bowling club. In the pub. Over a nice, romantic meal.’

  ‘Instead, you waited until we came up to the Highlands of Scotland and spewed into a bush.’ Harry was sitting on the bed, smiling. ‘That’s how I’m going to tell this story for the rest of my life.’

  ‘Not very romantic, is it?’

  ‘I think it is.’

  ‘You’re just saying that to get me into bed.’

  ‘Into bed so you can rest. In case you didn’t know, puking your ring into a bush isn’t a turn-on. Just for future reference.’

  ‘What will Jimmy think if I can’t carry on? Christ, I’m going to do the best I can, but right now I feel godawful.’

  ‘I don’t think Jimmy is going to mind.’ Harry got off the bed and took a bottle of water from the nightstand and poured Alex a glass. ‘Better stay hydrated.’

  ‘Thanks, but I think I need to go again.’ She got up from the chair where she was sitting and rushed into the bathroom. Harry switched the TV on to cover the sounds she was making.

  Mortuaries and puking. Two things that turned his stomach. But the bigger picture here was his imminent entrance into fatherhood again. Chance would be eighteen next year and now Harry was going to be a dad again in his forties.

  He knew it was something he wanted with Alex, but now that it was happening, he felt nervous. Would he still be a good dad to his newborn? Would the kid end up being bullied at school because Harry was older than some other kid’s grandfather?

  He turned the volume up as Alex went in for round two. Jesus Christ. He knew he should be in there, saying soothing things to her, rubbing her back, holding her. But the very sight of her being sick would make him vomit.

  What about when a baby was sick? That was different. Something in the lizard brain kicked in and you stepped up. But this…he wasn’t built for this. His first wife had been a regular visitor to the porcelain shrine because she was a drinker, and although Harry knew this wasn’t because of the drink, he still couldn’t be the knight in shining armour.

  There was a light rap at the door. Harry looked through the peephole and saw it was Dunbar.

  ‘I just thought I’d see how Alex was doing,’ Dunbar said. ‘I won’t come in.’ They both heard Alex retching. ‘Jesus. I had some prawn cocktail once in a hotel in Spain that had my heid down the fucking pan for days, but it didn’t sound anything like that.’

  ‘Well, thanks for that image there, Jimmy. Now that you’ve ruined my appetite for breakfast, I’ll pass on your good wishes to the wife.’

  Dunbar grinned. ‘Better get used to the puking and shitting, son. It takes a while until they’re potty-trained.’ He winked and walked away.

  ‘I’ll see you at breakfast,’ Harry said, closing the door gently.

  Then he winced when Alex went at it again. ‘Fuck me.’

  It was going to be a lot sooner than breakfast that he saw Dunbar again.

  Thirteen

  ‘That’s all we fucking need, some nutter on the loose,’ PC Alan Davidson said, turning the patrol car round in the snow-covered car park.

  ‘What are we doing in here?’ said his partner, PC Stan Winston.

  ‘I need a slash. Been drinking coffee all day, but it goes right through me. Keep a shotty.’

  ‘We’re hardly in the middle of a bloody ski slope. Nobody’s going to see your wee tadger flapping about in the cold oot here. Just get on with it and shut the fucking door.’

  ‘Hey, it’s only wee ’cause it’s cold.’

  ‘Hurry up, ya bawbag. Yer letting all the heat oot.’

  Davidson went across to the edge of the car park, trudging through the heavy snow, until he got to the start of a hikers’ pathway. What daft bastard wanted to go trudging up and down hills when they could be like him, sitting in front of the TV, drinking a tinny and getting wired into a couple of Scotch pies on rolls?

  ‘Christ, you’re making yourself hungry, Ali boy,’ he told himself, moving his kit out of the way in an attempt to find his zipper. It was getting harder as each year passed. He had flipped through Amazon online looking at treadmills and broken out in a sweat looking at the prices. The decent ones were expensive. The cheapo ones made in huts by wee laddies and lassies before they went to school in some far-flung province of China were affordable, but you’d need to be prepared to take a hammer to it after it broke down a week later.

  No, fuck that for a laugh. His girlfriend was just as overweight as he was. ‘Let’s face it, son, you’re not going to be spanking any supermodels anytime soon. But that’s okay. She likes to curl up on the couch just as much as you do.’

  He smiled at the thought. Maybe he should ask her to marry him. She spent most of her time at his place anyway, so why not?

  He didn’t want to be here too long. He could imagine the headline: Police Officer Caught Exposing Himself in Public. That was a career-breaker if ever there was one.

  He was in mid-flow when his partner leaned on the horn.

  ‘Fuck’s sake!’ he shouted as his pee went down the front of his trousers. ‘Aw, for God’s sake.’

  He turned round just in time to see a black estate car speeding past. He’d fixed himself, so even if the driver looked over, all he would see was a police officer on routine patrol.

  He picked some snow up and rubbed it quickly over the front of his trousers. He would tell Winston he’d slipped and fallen; hopefully, the other man hadn’t been watching him.

  The big black car shot round the bend like the driver was possessed.

  Davidson hurried as best he could through the snow, retracing his steps back to the car. Fucking lazy bastards in the council couldn’t be bothered coming here to plough the snow.

  ‘What happened to you?’ Winston asked as Davidson got back behind the wheel. ‘How’s yer troosers all wet?’

  ‘I slipped and fell.’ Davidson started the car up and put the blue lights on.

  ‘I bet you pished yourself.’

  ‘Fuck off.’ He guided the car back out onto the road and floored it. At least this road had been graced by the road gritter’s presence and although it was wet with the falling snow, it was driveable.

  ‘I wonder where that arsehole’s in such a hurry to get to,’ Davidson said. ‘He must be blind. Obviously, he doesn’t see the snow coming down.’

  ‘It was a hearse,’ Winston said.

  ‘What? Away.’

  ‘I’m telling you, it was a hearse. If he doesn’t watch what he’s doing, he’ll be the one in the back of it.’

  Davidson took the corner fast and the car shot forward. ‘Mental bastard. Who drives a hearse like that in this weather? Did you see the plate or anything?’

  ‘I know I’m good, but I’m not that fucking good. Chucking it down with snow and the radge is giving it the welly, and you think I can read a number plate? It was very inconsiderate of him not to slow down so I could have a wee deek at it.’

  ‘Aye, that’s shan. There’s nae respect nowadays. He could have pulled over and waited for us, knowing we were going to gie it the welly and catch the bastard anyway.’

  Both men laughed.

  ‘I’ll call it in,’ said Winston.

  Davidson sat forward in his seat, looking out the windscreen as the snow blasted towards them almost horizontally. It was like being on the bridge of the Enterprise watching stars coming at the window.

  Up a hill, keepi
ng the car in a lower gear, the blue lights bouncing off the snow.

  ‘I wonder where the bastard’s going at this time of night?’ Davidson said.

  Winston looked at his watch; almost one-thirty in the morning. Almost time to head back to the station for a cuppa and a piss. Well, a cuppa for Davidson anyway.

  ‘Christ, this is the arse end of town. This just leads out into the wilds. What’s he playing at?’ Davidson said, more thinking aloud than asking a question.

  ‘Maybe an accident.’

  ‘We would have heard about it on the radio, Stan.’

  ‘That’s true. Besides, he’s hooring it a bit fast for going to an accident. And wouldn’t they send their van rather than the meat wagon?’

  ‘Aye. There’s no way one of those old things would be sent out here. He’s driving it like he’s just stolen it.’

  Davidson looked at Winston. Maybe somebody had stolen it.

  They crested the brow of a hill and the road was slick up here. Even more slick on the way down on the other side, as Davidson found out.

  At the bottom of the hill, the car slid sideways into a snowbank and bounced off, spinning round until they were facing the opposite direction.

  Both men looked down the small side road in the middle of the bend. Where the old, abandoned church was.

  Where the hearse was.

  Its red taillights were on and steam was coming out of the front end. The driver’s door was wide open.

  As was the rear tailgate.

  Davidson put the car in gear and slowly drove along the narrow road and turned into the churchyard where the hearse was.

  He stopped behind it. The coffin that had been in the back was now out of it, propped up at an angle. It had slid partway out and was sitting precariously against the open back end.

  ‘Fuck me,’ Davidson said. ‘Call it in, Stan.’

  Winston got on the radio again as Davidson left the warmth of the car and got out into the falling snow.

  The headlights were still working, lighting up the old church. It had fallen into disrepair a long time ago, and if it had been in an inner city, it would have been tagged with graffiti by now.

  He started walking towards the hearse, or more specifically, the coffin.

  The driver wasn’t in the vehicle. Footprints led away round the old building, but Davidson wasn’t in the mood for a chase on foot.

  ‘Boo!’

  Something grabbed Davidson on either side of his waist and he jumped round.

  Winston was standing there grinning at him.

  ‘Ya daft bastard. I nearly took you down with one of my deadly ju-jitsu moves.’

  ‘Nearly shat yourself, more like. And since when do you do ju-jitsu?’

  ‘I would have battered you over the napper with my baton. That’s almost like ju-jitsu.’

  Winston laughed and nodded to the coffin. ‘What the hell is that? I mean, I know what it is, but it’s a hearse crashed into an old church with a coffin hanging out of its arse. You couldn’t make this up.’

  ‘The lid’s not on right,’ Davidson said. ‘It isn’t screwed down. Like your heid.’

  They looked at each other, as if thinking, You go first.

  The gravestones over at the side were covered with snow and the graveyard itself was covered. This made the whole scene lighter than it would have been had there been no snow.

  ‘Open it,’ Winston said in a low voice.

  ‘Nobody can hear you,’ Davidson said. ‘And why don’t you open it?’

  ‘Because you’re bigger than I am. I’ll watch your back.’

  ‘Keep your fucking hands to yourself. Or I’ll tell them all at the station you touched me in a graveyard.’

  ‘I’ll tell them you pished yourself.’

  ‘Bastard. You owe me big time,’ Davidson said.

  ‘Aye, aye, whatever. Just open the thing.’

  Davidson straightened up. At least this was a story they could tell in the canteen. With a little embellishment, of course, and leaving out the part where he was having a piss in the bushes.

  He moved forward gingerly, his boots crunching on the unploughed car park. The small church looked imposing at this ungodly hour. There was no noise except for the whistle of the wind through the trees.

  He reached down to grab the coffin lid. They could both see where the bottom had shifted, but they couldn’t see inside. He grabbed it with both hands, thinking that if the driver was in here hiding, Davidson would break the lid over the bastard’s face.

  He jumped back, preparing to swing it. Then he dropped the lid on the snow.

  Winston went over to the bushes at the side of the car park and threw up.

  Davidson just stared at what was inside. And he stayed that way until backup arrived.

  Fourteen

  ‘There’s my pal!’ Jimmy Dunbar said to his iPad screen as his dog, Scooby, came into view.

  ‘I swear he misses you more every time you go away,’ Cathy said.

  ‘I know, hen. But it’s my own fault. When Harry McNeil took charge of the new MIT, they asked Calvin Stewart who they thought would be a good choice from the Glasgow side, and he put my name forward. Now whenever a team’s needed elsewhere, the four of us get sent. That was one of the stipulations on Harry’s part, that he was prepared to travel.’

  Cathy laughed. ‘I’m not having a dig, love. Just pointing out that our daft dug misses his dad whenever he’s away.’

  ‘Keeps you warm in bed, though, eh?’ Dunbar smiled at her.

  ‘He does that.’

  ‘Better him than the window cleaner.’

  ‘Or the milkman.’

  ‘You’ve taken that too far.’ It was his favourite line from Chewin’ the Fat. They both laughed.

  They chatted idly about their day, Dunbar keeping his end of the story to the bare bones.

  ‘It’s freezing up here. But Alex took a bad turn earlier.’

  ‘Oh no. What’s wrong?’

  ‘She was sick. To be honest, I think she’s pregnant. Or she ate something that didn’t agree with her. My money’s on the former.’

  ‘Poor lass. Harry will look after her.’

  ‘He will, aye.’

  Just then Dunbar’s phone rang. It was the Blairgowan station.

  ‘Hold on a minute, love, while I answer this.’

  He took the phone call and listened to the caller before hanging up. ‘Guess what?’

  ‘You got a shout.’

  ‘I did. I was looking forward to having a wee dram later too. Duty calls.’

  ‘Better get your long johns back on.’

  ‘I didn’t have a chance to take them off. Give Scooby a hug from his dad. Love you.’

  ‘Love you too.’

  Cathy was sitting with the dog, and Dunbar waved goodbye to them. For a man who took no shite off anybody, he was a sap when it came to his family. Just like Harry McNeil.

  He grabbed his coat and locked the door to his room before going along to knock on Harry’s door.

  ‘We got a shout, Harry. Somewhere out of town. In an old graveyard.’

  He heard Alex retching again.

  ‘Jesus, does she need a doctor?’

  ‘I’m not sure to be honest.’ Harry stepped out into the hallway and pulled the door almost closed. ‘She’s pregnant, Jimmy.’

  ‘Christ, I suspected that, friend. I am a detective.’

  ‘The thing is, Morag was never like this. Puking yes, but not like this. It just makes me worry about her.’

  ‘You can stay with her, pal. I don’t want you to leave her alone.’

  Suddenly, the door was pulled open. Alex was standing with a towel at her face.

  ‘Give me two minutes and I’ll be ready, Jimmy. Just need to get my shoes on.’

  Both men looked at each other. Her face was white and her eyes were red.

  ‘And brush my teeth too, of course.’

  ‘I’ll be right there, Jimmy,’ Harry said, closing the door.

  �
��You sure you’re okay to go out?’ he asked Alex.

  ‘Look at you, acting all macho. Me caveman, look after cavewoman.’ She smiled. ‘Yes, I’ll be fine.’

  They got ready and found Dunbar waiting downstairs in the big Land Rover.

  ‘Bloody thing doesn’t heat up until you shove a box of matches into the upholstery.’

  Strapped in, they took off from the small car park opposite the hotel. The snow was coming down thick and fast.

  ‘Where’s Robbie?’ Harry asked.

  ‘He was going to Christmas Land. I asked him to keep an eye on that Martin Blair laddie. See who he’s been hanging out with down there. I have a gut feeling about him.’ Dunbar looked in his mirror at Alex sitting in the back, huddled inside her jacket. ‘Don’t worry, I won’t have you pissing about with Google Maps. I told Sergeant Lamb to make sure one of his uniforms meets us along the road to guide us. The bastard better be there.’

  She was. Dunbar had put the blue flashers on so the uniform could see him, and she was waving a torch about. He stopped for her.

  ‘You’ll be DCI Dunbar?’ she said after Dunbar rolled the window down.

  ‘Either that or these two strange men are about to ruin your day.’

  ‘Ignore them,’ Alex said, opening the back door. ‘Come in out of the cold.’

  The uniform jumped in and looked between the seats at Dunbar. ‘Right at the next intersection. Up the hill and round the corner.’

  He did as she instructed. Left, right, round the bend, and they passed the little car park where Davidson and Winston had started off their chase.

  Five minutes later, they were easing down the hill where the other vehicles with blue lights were waiting.

  ‘Jesus,’ Dunbar said as the big vehicle slipped a bit, but he corrected it.

  He stopped at the entrance to the graveyard and saw the hearse lit up by other vehicles and some generator-powered lights.

  ‘Just shout if you need me, sir,’ the uniform said, getting out of the car.

  ‘Will do.’ The dome lights came on for a second until the young woman closed the door.

  ‘What the hell is this?’ Harry said. He was looking at the open coffin.