A Deviant Breed (10 page)

‘You lived with them?’

‘Aye, I was new to the primary school and to the area, and what with his mother gone – they had a room going spare.  It was an arrangement that suited all – especially wee Archie.  He hated school – we became very close.  His grandma was quite jealous.’

‘So English isn’t really his – ?’

‘Nobody knows his father’s name and Archie doesn’t want to know,’ Farish cut in anticipating the next question.  ‘Prefers the delusion he’s born of ancestors who were once feared and mighty clansmen hereabouts and on the Humes side, great lairds too but granny’s ancestors’ fortune was lost a long time ago – twice in fact!  Aye, one of them invested in that disastrous Darien Scheme of the late sixteenth – early seventeenth centuries.’

‘Panama?’ Tyler interrupted, still writing it all down.

He nodded. ‘Aye, according to Archie, so it’ll be reet!  It also supports his theory as to why the Humes clan became so greedy for Morag’s land.  Then, having not learned their lesson, another of their line went belly-up in what was probably the first ever international financial crisis in eighteen seventy-three.’ Farish chortled again and shook his head. ‘Had misfortune not visited them, who knows – Archie might well have inherited land and titles.’ Farish coughed violently, almost choked but recovered himself.  ‘Excuse me, my lungs are nearly as useless as my legs.  How wee Archie would have revelled in that role.’

***

When pressed, Eugene reluctantly speculated on a few months max for the length of time the man’s head had been buried but would go no further.  For anything more definitive Dunbar would have to wait for the results of the forensic pathologist’s findings.  Two unlucky constables from Galashiels pulled nightshift sentry duty at the site to protect the scene until Dunbar could mobilise the manpower to conduct an extensive fingertip search and the machinery to excavate the whole site.  That would have Watt and Molineux cursing over their morning coffee at HQ. 

Professor Geary had kindly offered them the use of the university’s equipment, which meant that Zoe and Shaggy would also have to remain behind with her.  With nothing further to be done on site until dawn, they all retired to Greenlaw where Dunbar was delighted to be reunited with his car – in exactly the same condition as he had left it.

‘Thanks, that was fun,’ Tyler said with a wicked glint in her eye. 

‘Farish?’

‘Odd, cooperative, a veritable mine of information.’

‘How odd?’

‘Enjoyed it too much and his responses felt – rehearsed – almost.’

‘Something to hide?’

Tyler shrugged, ‘Haven’t we all?  Maybe it was just a conversation he’d been expecting to have for years.’

Dunbar held out his hand and Tyler gave him his car keys. ‘Because?’

‘Archie’s a fruitcake!’  She turned and walked away. ‘Oh, and the over-steer – such a rush when you pop it into sport mode and power-glide through bends, isn’t it?’ she added when she stopped at her bedroom door.

Dunbar leaned around the door frame and looked back.  Tyler winked then held him in her steady gaze.  He met it and waited.   He was a master at this game.  She would crack first.  She did not, just disappeared into her own room.  She was winding him up, he told himself.   No way had she thrashed it.  She drives a Fiat 500, how did she know about the over-steer in sport mode?  Watching Top Gear – aye, that was it.  Did he leave it in sport mode?  Unlikely, he rarely used it.  He looked back again.  Her door was closed. Bitch!

***

The quartet hogged the crackling log fire, a pleasant moment of informality, any professional and personal tensions at truce.  A striking contrast to her Earth-Mother lover and best described as sober Nordic chic, Holmquist had arrived in good time to join them for dinner, after which they repaired to the cosy saloon for drinks.  She assured them that her lab elves were burning the midnight oil to get those DNA comparisons and should have the eagerly awaited results some time the following day.

The two academics held hands and Dunbar inwardly chided himself for feeling uncomfortable.  Tyler positioned herself between him and the adoring couple, her back to the three locals who propped up the bar and cast the occasional disapproving glances their way.  And it didn’t escape the wary DCI’s notice.  Was it down to the presence of coppers or lesbians in their local – or both?  Dunbar could not decide.

Professor Geary returned to their dinner table topic. ‘Archie’s passionate about local history, but like many a genealogy buff, has a blinkered, revisionist’s view of context and events.  He tries to shape facts to his own theories on his family’s part in the story.’

‘He even wrote to Chanel Four’s Time Team.’ Holmquist added

‘Thank goodness they ignored him.  His passion and habit of putting himself front and centre of the story can be quite off putting.’

‘Didn’t put you off.’

‘We eventually managed to corroborate details of his research, together with the artefacts he unearthed, the evidence proved compelling.’

Suddenly Dunbar’s phone chimed. ‘Sorry.’ He plucked it from his pocket, rolled his eyes, shrugged apologetically and answered. ‘
Hi!
’  he listened for a moment. ‘Actually, in a pub in Greenlaw with three real bonny women.’

‘You can’t fool me, darling.  So, I presume you’re paying for their company,’ Elspeth responded drily.

He cringed.  His companions grinned.  ‘
No!
  Two of them are professors and the other, my new DI who has more letters after her name than she has in it.’

Tyler blushed but received approving nods tinged by surprise from the two academics.

‘Shan’t be home this weekend, booked on a red eye to Dallas, short notice – sorry.’

‘Same ol’ same ol’ hey!?’

‘Yes, I’ll call you when I get there – don’t get those ladies drunk so as to take advantage like you did of me.’ Dunbar opened his mouth to protest, only to be cut off. ‘Ciao sweetie,
mwaa’ – mwaa
’.’ He laid his phone on the table and eyed them blankly.

‘You must have a strong relationship,’ Holmquist observed.

‘
Orrr’
– she doesn’t really give a shit what I get up to,’ he retorted, then shrugged.  ‘Elspeth’s one of those supremely confident types – it wouldn’t have fazed her if I’d said I had Miss World sitting in my lap nibbling my ear lobe.’ His three companions did not seem to know how to react. ‘Sorry, Professor, you were saying?’

  ‘Oh, yes well – Archie seems determined to reinvent his Reivers as free spirited ne’er-do-wells rather than murderers, mercenaries, turncoats and thieves,’ Shelagh Geary explained, lifting her glass of Merlot.  ‘If I were more liberally inclined –
and
– allowing for the turbulence of the era, I might temper my opinion to that of unconscionable opportunists.’

Allyson Holmquist smirked as she spotted Dunbar raise an eyebrow at Shelagh Geary’s statement.  ‘Awash with contradictions,’ the forensic anthropologist cut in, smiling at her partner warmly, ‘that’s our Shelagh – it’s one of the things I love about her.’

‘Awww,’
Tyler responded.

‘Sounds like they should have gone into politics,’ Dunbar offered with a wry smile.

Allyson Holmquist laughed politely as Shelagh Geary nodded her agreement. ‘Some probably did.’ Geary agreed. ‘However, no matter how passionately one believes in a thing, dramatic and absolute theorising is redundant unless supported by immutable facts. Despite his denials, Archie’s vision of the Scottish Lowlands is no less romantic than was Sir Walter Scott’s eulogising of the Scottish Highlands.  I choose the classicist’s approach.’

‘I blame religion,’ Dunbar joked.

‘Had its part to play, but religion per se isn’t really to blame, Chief Inspector –’

‘Alec!’

‘Alec,’ she repeated before continuing.  ‘It’s what has been done in the name of religion that is so repugnant.’

‘True,’ Holmquist added, ‘and you can deny religion all you like but you cannot deny humankinds’ religious impulses.’

‘So are you believers?’ Dunbar asked.

‘Don’t be absurd,’ Holmquist hooted, squeezing her partner’s hand.

‘So the women bishops and church weddings aren’t an issue with you two?’ Dunbar asked. 

Was he being provocative? Tyler wondered. Or was he just jealous?  If so. Of what? – Geary?  Holmquist was certainly very striking and elegant with that sexily cerebral thing going on.  A little older than Dunbar but Tyler could not think of many blokes who would pass up on the chance if they thought they were in with one.  Or was it the closeness, the togetherness of the two academics?  Elspeth might have only been teasing, but Tyler thought she had sensed a distinct distance between them and not just the obvious physical one.

Professor Geary stiffened and got her hand squeezed again. ‘Of course it’s an issue – from an equality point of view but not at a personal level.  Allyson and I do not need our civil partnership blessed or even recognised by a priest, but see no reason why  our commitment to each other, should not enjoy the benefits married heterosexual couples enjoy.  And for those gays and lesbians of faith it’s a very big issue, and one we are pledged to support.’

‘Hear, hear!’ Tyler responded, as Dunbar raised his glass to them.  ‘Of all the Reiver Clans, what set the Morag’s apart from the others?’ Tyler asked changing the subject.

‘Glad you asked, Briony. Archie’s convinced the answer has its roots in the unrecorded pre-history of Scotland, but cites the first century A.D. after the Emperor Hadrian’s forces ventured into what is now Scotland, as proof.  It isn’t what you’d call a cogent exposition.’

‘Ah yes, he got on a roll about that – the Igni or Ignus that became Inglis?’

‘According to Archie, however, Inglis is actually an ancient Berwickshire name that appeared around the time of Norman expansionism into northern Britain and....’

‘He covered that in quite a lot of detail too,’ Dunbar muttered.

‘Yes, I imagine he would.  As for Morag’s Clan, I don’t subscribe to his Pictish theory.  Archie’s evidence, if you can call it that, is gossamer thin.’

‘So – were they pagans?’ Tyler asked.

‘Aye, well, that’s all part of the myth, you understand – and one Morag is said to have promoted to strike terror into the hearts of their enemies.  They didn’t even fear God’s wrath.  That alone would set them apart from the other clans!’

‘A risky strategy in Oliver Cromwell’s Britain, I’d have thought,’ Dunbar observed.

‘Extremely –it would also explain the puritan fervour of the men sent to eradicate them.  No, I’m inclined to think their lineage was probably born of a bastard son of an Inglis noble – illegitimacy was, still is commonplace enough.  Archie’s Pictish theory is fanciful and based mainly on hearsay and the Clan’s homespun legend.’

‘It’s all very interesting but – we can’t get bogged down by the history, I’ve got –’

‘There’s no escaping the historic resonance of events at Braur Glen.  Together with their reiving neighbours Morag’s clan helped shape this region and the people in it,’ Geary cut in, ‘with a surname like Dunbar you of all people must –’

‘My surname comes courtesy of illegitimacy actually.’ he explained before she went any further.  He was tired, frustrated and awash with local myth and history.  The three women looked quite taken aback by his abrupt and startling interruption.  He met their curious looks wearily.  All he wanted explanations for was why those two heads had turned up there and the identity of the person responsible.  His blunt interruption was never going to satisfy them.

‘A foundling,’ he added, in a softer tone.  Still they waited, expectantly.  ‘They had to call him something.’

‘The foundling?’ Tyler asked.

‘Aye!  My great, great grandfather – left on a Calvinist preacher’s doorstep in Dunbar, a brand new life but an age old story.’ He shrugged dismissively. ‘Anyway that’s how my family came by our surname.  No historic resonance, no blood feuds or enmity with a neighbour that I know of.  My bloodline begins with a wee unwanted baby that was named after the town in which he was dumped and another, much more famous abandoned son.’

‘Who?’ Tyler asked.

‘Moses.’

‘They christened him Moses?’ Tyler asked.

‘
Yep!
Moses Dunbar.  Guess it –
resonated
with a Calvinist Bible thumper.’

‘The law giver.’

‘Sorry?’ Dunbar asked turning to Holmquist.

‘The Hebrew meaning of that name – Moses, and his great, great grandson became a policeman.’

‘Aye’, well, I’m a law enforcer – with a damned sight more than ten commandments to worry about.’

6

Dunbar had been summoned to Fettes Ave, HQ, which meant Tyler had to hitch a ride to Braur Glen with Professor Geary, Shaggy and Zoe.  He had left her strict instructions about supervising the line search with emphasis on continuity of evidence. Falk had been given instructions to attend the crime scene and to see that DI Tyler got home. 

***

As it was the line search team were old hands at this game and their sergeant was not about to be told how to,
‘suck eggs by you, hen!’
  Tyler could have put him on report for insubordination but decided against.  Not the best way to make her mark on her first major enquiry. Instead she let it pass with a hard stare that left the man in no doubt he had overstepped the mark.  The search team sergeant’s attitude changed completely the moment DS Faulkner arrived on the scene.  With Falk standing alongside her the sergeant was all – ‘yes, ma’am, no, ma’am – and hi, Falk, sure, Falk, can I kiss yer’ arse, Falk?’  The search team leader did not actually say that, at least not within her hearing, but he may as well have.

‘Do you scare the bad guys as much as you scare our guys?’ she asked out of the corner of her mouth as they watched the search team inch their way across the site under Professor Geary’s watchful eye. 

Falk grinned.  ‘Not all of ‘em, there’s some that have nae crossed me yet and others that are either too crazy or too stupid to be scared of anyone.’

‘This Doc Monaghan I hear so much about for instance?’

‘Nahh!  Doc’s no’ yer’ run-o’-the-mill heid the baw.  He’s in a mean league of his own.  One o’ them rare cases that gets grudging respect even around Glasgee – and the Weegie boys dinnae give it readily, especially to their Auld Reekie oppos.’

‘I’ll be interested to make his acquaintance.’

‘Hang around the boss long enough and you will ma’am – nothin’s so sure.’

‘They have history?’

‘Aye, ye could say that.  Rivalry more like, Doc hates the boss – I mean, really hates him.’

‘And DCI Dunbar?  Does he –’

‘Well, ye’ never can tell what he’s thinkin’ at the best o’ times.’  Falk cut in.  ‘Nae love lost, that’s for sure.’

***

One of the drawbacks about making it to the rank of DCI, was the amount of time he had to spend at Fettes.  On this occasion though, he wasn’t there long.  He had barely touched his coffee before Terry Watt whisked him away to Holyrood.  Bad enough that he had been recalled from his first meaty case in almost a year, only to discover Terry Watt wanted him to play back stop at a meeting with the Justice Minister.  More galling for Dunbar was that it was regarding the operational protocols for the National Homicide and Serious Crime Unit that the bone idle Detective Superintendent had delegated to his DCI, who was conveniently on light duties and thus twiddling his thumbs.  Had Watt done his job, he would not need Dunbar at the meeting.  During the drive to Holyrood it became increasingly clear that Watt was not even adequately briefed on the subject to pitch
his
vision to the minister.

‘You haven’t even read it, have you?’

‘Have so,’ Watt protested indignantly. ‘It’s just – well, there’s a lot to take in what with Minto tying it to DI Tyler’s epic pile o’ shite on intelligence-led policing initiatives.’ Dunbar eyed him askance. ‘Dinnae’ look at me.  Her report’s being feted as force policy and recommended for immediate implementation.’

‘You binned it before you got to the bottom of the first page!’

‘Aye well, ye’ know me.  I cannae be doing with all that jargon an’ waffle,’ Watt grumbled.

Dunbar knew him all too well.  ‘So, Briony’s report is policy now is it? Whereas my report’s still up for discussion.’

‘
Pilot!
’ Watt corrected, ‘and –
ours
– adopted in principle.’

‘Maybe I should have punctuated it with jargon.’

‘Ahh, but then the Chief would nae have known –’ He suddenly fell silent.

‘That you didn’t write it!  Have you taken my name off it?’

Watt almost blushed but he was too shameless to feel genuine guilt.  ‘Course not, I simply added mine
and listen,’
he added conspiratorially, ‘this is really important – when we get sat down with him, we have to sell it. That’s why you’re here.’

‘I’ve nae sales experience, sir.’

‘You know what I mean, Alec – it’s your baby really and the Chief Super’s worried about how this enquiry at Braur Glen will pan out.’

‘You mean what it’s going to cost, I presume.’

‘Aye, well it disnae grow on trees, Alec.  So we thought your investigation can be the pilot for the protocols as proposed in the report.’

‘It already is – if not officially. I’d already thought of testing it and –’

‘Dinnae say that to Minto,’ Watt cut in sharply, ‘he’s set aside funding for a pilot – we could use it to take some or all of the pain out of meeting the cost of yours.’

‘Christ Almighty!  Is this what we’re reduced to – playing political charades to get our hands on a pot of gold?’

‘Ach, this is nothing, mon – we’ve got the home advantage what with Holyrood being on our doorstep, but oor former Strathclyde, Grampian, Central and Tayside oppos ran very slick charm offensives.  There’s all sorts of shenanigans going.’

‘That! I can believe,’ Dunbar muttered.  ‘So why didn’t you ask Briony to sit in on this meeting?  I could have –’

‘Minto’s up to speed on her report, Alec, hence it’s green-lit, whereas ours –’

‘Mine!’ he cut in pointedly.

‘– the minister feels needs a wee bit more clarity,’ Watt continued, blushing slightly.

‘Shoe!’ Dunbar said as he swung his car into a parking bay.

‘What?’

‘S-C-H-U –
schu
– the Serious Crime and Homicide Unit.  We drop the word national and rearrange the order of the others.  Now that we’re the Police Service of Scotland – one force instead of eight – all departments have been nationalised, so the word “national” is a gimme, wouldn’t ye say?’

‘Schu!  Aye, I like it,’ Watt chirruped, stepping from the car. ‘Schu!  We can sell that!’

‘
Jesus!
After all these years in the job I end up a shoe salesman.’

***

Lawrie Minto MSP and Cabinet Secretary for Justice appeared without his suit jacket, sporting a garish pair of braces and glowing with a carefully crafted bonhomie that had become his trademark.  Beneath the hale and hearty facade however there lurked an old school political bruiser.   He noticed Dunbar’s cocked eyebrow and grinned.

‘Always wear braces,’ he explained, as he gave them a twang before offering his podgy hand.  ‘Around this place there are those who cannae look at a mon’s belt without punching below it,’ he explained with a chortle.  He scanned the landing, ‘Agnes, organise some coffee would you?’ He eyed the two senior detectives, who nodded their approval, ‘and shortbread – in ma private chambers.’

The dour middle-aged harridan that had greeted them a few minutes earlier acknowledged the instruction with a curt nod and a cold, disapproving stare.  Dunbar got the impression she considered waiting on a couple of coppers below her pay grade – or her dignity at least.

***

Archie English showed them through to his sitting room where DI Tyler immediately noticed that the settee had been completely cleared of books and magazines.

‘It’s been one visitor after another – police, reporters, neighbours, nosey-parkers – I’ve never been so popular,’ he explained with barely contained glee as she and Falk took their seats. ‘No Detective Chief Inspector Dunbar today?’

‘Recalled to HQ,’ Tyler explained.

‘Ahh, so I’m being discussed at the highest levels now.’

‘Not sure why he’s had to go, Mr English, just know that is where he is.’

‘So who is this?’

‘Sorry, Detective Sergeant Sean Faulkner – Archibald English.’

‘Sergeant?’

‘Aye,’ Falk replied as they shook hands.

‘No offence, Sergeant, but – I’d have thought that an enquiry of this magnitude called for a detective more senior in rank than yourself.’

‘None taken, Mr English but – the reality is that most of the legwork’s done by detectives of constable and sergeant rank.’

‘It’s true,’ Tyler confirmed.

‘Legwork? I suppose so – door-to-door and all that, but interviewing primary witnesses can hardly be classed as legwork.  I’d have thought –’

‘I’ve interviewed primary suspects before now, sir,’ Falk cut in, ‘as for you being a primary witness – to what exactly?  As I understand it – you found a seventeenth century button in Braur Glen with your metal detector and called Professor Geary in.’

‘A gross simplification of events, Sergeant.  The button was significant and indicative of the fact that –
I
– had discovered the location of the legendary Obag’s Holm,’ Archie corrected, before wagging his finger at Falk. ‘But I suspect you’re trying to catch me out. That’s very naughty of you, trying to provoke me – to impress the pretty Inspector perhaps.’

‘Nobody is trying to provoke or impress anyone – or catch you out, Archie, but –’ Tyler began to explain, but Archie was on a roll and ignored her.

‘Indeed I have dispelled a myth.  Fireside tales now – historic fact with its own OS reference, or soon will have.  So put that in your pipe and smoke it, Dr Vasquez!’

‘Vasquez?  Why Vasquez?’ Tyler asked.

‘Oh, we’ve been corresponding for quite some time.  He was adamant that (a) Obag’s Holm was little more than a legend – at best a corral where the Inglis Reivers hid their rustled livestock –
annnd
(b) that I was looking in entirely the wrong place.’

‘I see – beating the professionals at their own game,’ she observed.

‘A da in ma bunnet for sure,’ he chortled.

Tyler eyed Falk quizzically.  ‘Feather in his cap,’ the DS explained.

‘The reason we’re here today is because yesterday you didn’t mention that your tutor, Wilson Farish, was a lodger – that he lived under the same roof as you.’

‘Didn’t I?’

Tyler was quite certain of her facts.  ‘No!’

‘Aye, that he did, for a good few years, until –’ he stopped in mid-sentence as if uncertain whether he should finish what he was about to say.

‘Until?’ she repeated.

‘
Ach
, I don’t suppose it matters now.  Bless him, poor Wilson can’t possibly put off his appointment with Saint Peter much longer, his health has been failing for years.’ He stiffened and rubbed his forehead firmly with the two middle fingers of his right hand. ‘Granny began to get rather upset about the amount of time I was spending with him,’ he explained as he busied himself picking imaginary bits off his immaculately pressed trousers.

‘So Mr Farish said.  It’s not a particularly big house. I would venture to guess spending time with him was unavoidable.’

‘Wilson had the attic room,’ he added without looking up. ‘Granny found that last steep flight played havoc with her knees – she was a martyr to lumbago and arthritis.’

Tyler eyed Falk and waited for English to make eye contact. ‘Was, Wilson Farish abusing you, Archie?’

When he did, he couldn’t hold her gaze and suddenly seemed irritated by her questions.  It wasn’t relevant, nor was it something he wanted to talk about. ‘What is abuse? – Define abuse?’  He snapped.

‘I think you know what the Inspector means, sir,’ Falk said softly.

‘Then no!  We – petted that’s all.  Little thank-yous – it was a small price to pay for private tuition.  Do you have any idea how much a teacher can charge?’

‘I don’t – but sexual abuse is too high a price to pay, whatever he gave in return,’ Tyler replied.

‘Nonsense, a little willy-tickling and sucking the stick of rock never hurt anyone, certainly not me.’

‘Oral sex,’ Falk corrected.

Archie pulled a face. ‘I don’t like that expression.  But it happens all the time at schools like Billy Bunter’s.  That is, boys’ boarding schools – I loved Billy Bunter stories once I’d outgrown Winnie-the-Pooh.  I must have read every one.  Wilson said a greedy boy like Billy probably sucked rock for bigger boys and teachers too.’  Tyler and Falk exchanged a knowing look.  ‘So you see!’ He grinned mischievously, ‘What’s good enough for all these Old Etonian politicians.’

‘Did he perform oral sex on you or you on him?’ Falk asked.

‘It wasn’t sex, it was – oh, what’s the use!  Let’s get this nonsense out of the way.  Let me see, err – me mostly, sometimes he would.  It was just a wee game, like I said, a way to show my appreciation.’  Archie looked at them in turn still genuinely puzzled by their concern.  ‘He used to smear honey on it and tell me to close my eyes and imagine I was Winnie-the-Pooh at the honey pot – or that it was a stick of rock or chocolate éclair when I progressed to Billy Bunter books.  Tasty treats he called them.  Of course it didn’t taste like rock once the honey was gone – or an éclair for that matter.’

‘Archie, he had no right to demand sexual favours in return for teaching you to read and write,’ Tyler explained.