‘Anyone else? Don’t be shy.’
Alice’s hand shot up, fingers splayed, waving slightly. ‘Me, me!’
‘Yes …? I’m sorry, I don’t know your name.’
‘Alice McDonald. First: huge fan, I thought you were great in that documentary about the Tayside Butcher.’ She still had her hand up.
Docherty preened. ‘Oh, you saw that. Great. Thanks. So, what’s your question … erm … Alice?’
‘You say he’s attacking women as sublimated revenge against an emotionally manipulative mother figure, but that doesn’t explain the significance of the dolls, does it?’
‘Well, that’s another good question, you see—’
‘By stitching the dolls into their abdomens, the Inside Man is making them pregnant, isn’t he? Literally putting a baby into their tummies …’ She wrapped one arm around her middle, lowered her hand and twisted the fingers through her hair. ‘Of course then he muddies the water by dressing them in white nightgowns which are clearly symbolic of innocence and virginity, but if this is revenge against an unloving mother, why is he trying to impregnate her? I mean I’m not saying it doesn’t happen, I helped Northern Constabulary catch someone who did just that, then stabbed her sixty-four times in the throat, her head nearly came off when they tried to load her into the body-bag, the pictures were really quite disturbing.’
‘I see.’ Docherty’s smile chilled a good five degrees. ‘So in your opinion my profile is wrong?’
Alice tilted her head to one side, mirroring his. ‘I didn’t say it was wrong, I just don’t think it’s entirely right.’
On the other side of Alice, Dr Constantine’s voice was barely audible. ‘Fight, fight, fight, fight …’
Docherty’s jaw worked from side to side, chewing on something bitter.
‘No offence.’ Alice pressed a hand against her chest. ‘Like I said, big fan. Huge.’
Ness stood. ‘Perhaps it would be more productive if Dr Docherty and …’ she checked her notes, ‘Dr McDonald could take this discussion offline and report back to their team leaders with the outcome. In the meantime: I find myself having to remind you all that there is a strict media blackout in force. The Powers That Be are not happy someone broke the moratorium and told the press about Claire Young. I don’t care who you are, or who you report to, the only information that gets out of this investigation is in the official press briefings. Are we all clear on that?’
Some shuffling from the crowd.
Superintendent Knight stood, wearing his dress uniform at half seven in the morning, as if that was going to impress anyone. ‘On that note, one of my team from the Specialist Crime Division, DI Foot, will be inviting certain of you to assist him in uncovering who was responsible for feeding details to the Daily Record yesterday. I expect honesty and integrity. And if I don’t get it there – will – be – trouble.’
Ness nodded. ‘Right, that’s it, people. Individual team meetings commence in five. Grab a cigarette or a cup of coffee if you can. It’s going to be a long day.’
‘… looking good, my man.’ DS Brigstock patted me on the back, grinning with his mouth open, cheeks and forehead stippled with impact-crater acne scars. ‘Don’t he look good, Rhona?’
Rhona smiled at me, exposing a mouth full of thick grey teeth. ‘Great to have you back, Guv.’
Half of Ness’s Major Investigation Team had stayed behind, while their SCD rivals bustled out to cram in a quick cigarette or get something from the vending machines.
Jacobson’s team had drifted apart: PC Cooper off running an errand; Dr Constantine on the phone in the corner; while Huntly was having what looked like a very intense conversation with a tall thin man in a grey suit – one of Superintendent Knight’s SCD lot. The discussion all big arm gestures and hissing whispers.
Rhona stuck her hands in her pockets, hunched her shoulders. ‘Listen, Guv, I was thinking of throwing a wee party, you know to celebrate? And—’
‘I’m not sure if we’ll have time, will we, Ash?’ Alice stepped in close, slipped her arm through mine, and smiled at Rhona. ‘I’m really glad I was able to arrange his release, I mean you wouldn’t believe the hoops I had to jump through at the prison, but there was no way I was going to let him rot away in that place.’ The smile got sharper. ‘That would’ve been horrible, wouldn’t it?’
Rhona squared her shoulders. ‘We did our best.’
‘Yes, I know. Still, never mind, he’s out now.’
Not this again …
‘I didn’t see you visiting him every week.’
Alice raised her eyebrows. ‘Didn’t you? Well, they don’t give members of the public access to the official—’
A jagged Aberdonian accent cut across the room. ‘DS Massie, Brigstock: you heard the Super. Team meeting starts at eight, sharp.’ It didn’t look as if Smith’s people skills had improved any in the last two years. He made a big show of pulling back the sleeve of his grey Markie’s suit and checking his watch. Wrinkles stood out in thick stripes across his forehead. Big nose twitching. Close-cropped hair. A chin so small it was barely there.
Brigstock’s face curdled for a second, then his voice dropped to a whisper. ‘Why did they have to make the sheep-shagging bastard a DI?’ Then louder: ‘Yes, Guv.’
‘Now, Sergeants.’
Rhona didn’t move. Just stood there staring at Alice. ‘Yes, Guv.’ Then she turned her back. ‘Come on, Brigstock. And the rest of you – backsides in gear. You heard DI Smith!’ She shepherded the rest of the team towards the front of the room, where Ness was fiddling with her remote again.
Smith stared at us, then marched over, back straight, shoulders back. ‘Do I need to remind you, Mr Henderson, that you’re no longer a serving police officer? You have no powers in Oldcastle, or anywhere else. And if I hear you’re throwing your weight around, I’ll come down on you like a ton of broken glass. Are we clear?’
I took a step closer, shutting down the gap till we were almost touching. ‘You think you’re a big man because they made you a DI, don’t you? Think that makes you invulnerable. Well, that massive nose of yours will break just as easily as a detective sergeant’s.’
He took a step back. ‘Threatening a police officer is a criminal offence and—’
‘DI Smith?’ Ness’s voice came from the front. ‘We’re ready to start.’ She pressed a button and the screen behind her filled with a map of Oldcastle, a red circle marking a patch of ground behind Blackwall Hill. She nodded at Jacobson. ‘Simon, your team’s welcome to join us if you like?’
‘I appreciate the offer, Elizabeth, but there’s a couple of things that need our urgent attention.’ He flicked his arm out and peered at his watch. ‘And if we don’t get a shift on, we’re going to be late.’
‘Can’t feel my toes …’ Dr Constantine
