you sure? Big guy, half Irish, half Italian, wears a DCC’s uniform and hates it?’
‘Mmm. Maybe.’
‘No maybe about it,’ Haddock declared. ‘Look, Sammy, we were talking about priorities. Pursuing two fellow cops who might have been sloppy under pressure isn’t one of ours.’
‘Okay,’ Pye admitted, ‘you’ve got a point. I feel under pressure myself, and probably I’m lashing out.’
‘Well, I’m buggered if I do. Have we done anything wrong in this investigation?’ The question was bluntly put.
‘No,’ the DCI replied. ‘I don’t believe so.’
‘Are we following every possible line of inquiry?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then where’s the pressure? It’s not coming from big Mario. It’s not coming from Mary Chambers.’
‘No, it’s coming from the man at the top, because I crossed him over that media briefing. That would . . .’
Haddock laughed. ‘I know what you’re going to say: that would never have happened in Bob Skinner’s time.’
‘Well, it wouldn’t.’
‘Probably not, but that time is over. Now, it is what it is, but one thing remains: all we can do is our best. So, remind me. Why are we looking into Mackail’s death, when there’s every chance that he was hit by a driver who was even more drunk than he was, and who buggered off into the night when he realised what he’d done?’
Without allowing his boss a moment to reply, he answered his own question. ‘The investigation that began in the Fort Kinnaird car park has turned into a hunt for a double murderer. Now we’re looking at the outside possibility that he might have been responsible for a third.’
Pye smiled. ‘Do you want to swap desks, Sauce? You’re enjoying this job a hell of a lot more than I am just now, and you’re better at it.’
‘Not a prayer. I’m still learning from you. Gaffer, if anyone can catch this bloke it’s you and me. If we don’t, it won’t be your fault, and if our fearless leader tries to follow through on his silly threat to take it out on you personally, I will personally go to Stirling, kick his fucking door in and tell him that he’s not fucking on.’
The chief inspector sighed. ‘Thanks for that, Sauce. You’re right; it’s our investigation, not his, so let’s focus on it. Have you heard from Lucy Tweedie?’ he asked.
‘Yes, she called a couple of minutes before you got here. She’s recovered the coat; Mrs Mackail still had it, although twenty-four hours later it would have been off to the dry cleaners, then the charity shop.’
‘Good. It must be a chunky garment if it’s still wearable after what happened to its owner. Maybe forensics will be able to . . .’ Pye stopped in mid-sentence as his phone sounded. He snatched it from his pocket and took the call. ‘Arthur,’ he exclaimed.
‘The impossible I do at once,’ Dorward said, in his ear. ‘Miracles take a little longer and need a bit of imagination. Before I go any further, the caveat to what I’m going to tell you is that everything I’ve found could relate to a completely different incident, or incidents, but here goes. Is your pencil poised?’
‘As it ever will be; go on.’
‘Right. First, on the pavement, just beside your man’s crude chalk victim, there are traces of rubber, burned into the slabs. It’s consistent with marks left by wheelspin, and it could have been there from the time of the incident, fading gradually, but still just about visible.
‘Second,’ he continued, ‘I was able to extract from the stonework of the wall against which the victim lay traces of white paint, consistent with a vehicle having scraped against it. The height of these marks indicates that they weren’t made by a saloon, but by a mid-sized van, a Transit or something similar.’
‘Well done, Arthur,’ Pye exclaimed. He looked up at Haddock. ‘Remember Chic Francey’s van?’ he asked. ‘What was it?’
‘Vauxhall Vivaro,’ the DS responded, immediately. ‘Dirty white; it’s seen better days.’
‘Have I made your day?’ Dorward asked.
‘Potentially.’
‘Well, here’s some more.’ He paused. ‘I don’t have to tell you that I’ve forgotten more about crime scenes than you high-flyers will ever know.’
‘Can you hear me touch my forelock, Arthur?’ Pye chuckled.
‘I wondered what the grovelling sound was,’ the scientist retorted, deadpan. ‘Anyway, based on a career’s worth of experience, I took a look at the broader scene. The fact that two CID bigwigs are involved in this told me that it isn’t your standard knock-down, panic, and drive away, like we see most of the time. So I asked myself, if this