A Deviant Breed (27 page)

17

The usually phlegmatic Neil Conroy sounded somewhat rattled when he phoned Dunbar to ask what time they would be back, and Dunbar’s rather sanguine reaction did not help. 

‘Look sir, the thing is, the Chief Super was expecting, quote: “a more proactive approach,” Conroy explained, in a hushed tone, so as not to be overheard by the others in the murder room.

‘
Proactive!?
’ Dunbar snapped in disbelief.  Even the diplomatically minded DI Tyler reacted with surprise.  He swung the car into the yawning mouth of a field-access and brought it grinding to a halt on the heavily rutted sub-base.  Typical: his team spend days living and breathing the case only for Laurel and Hardy to blunder on to the landing, carry out a paper sift, check-off their tick-in-the-box list and presume to have an instant grasp on what needs to be done.

‘He’s got the SIO and 2i/c in the field, dragging our arses around the three parishes, digging up archaeological sites and exhuming bodies from graves, as well as covering this frigging countryside with search teams and dog handlers – deployments he initially refused.  How much more proactive does he think we can get?’ 

‘Dinnae shoot the messenger, boss.’

‘Sorry, Neil – but the question stands.’

‘Like –
arrests
proactive.’

‘Oh aye, and who does he suggest we arrest, and on what bloody evidence?  Or has he got access to a crystal ball I didnae know about?’

‘The Chief Super likes Archie English for it.’

Dunbar groaned. ‘Do you?’

‘Not my call, boss.’

‘That’s not what I asked.’

Conroy chose not to answer. Tyler thought it unfair of him to put the sergeant between him and the Detective Chief Superintendent but elected to bite her tongue.

‘Christ Almighty, Neil – you’re the office manager. Naebody has seen more of the evidence or knows the details o’ this case better than you, apart from me and the DI maybe.  Could you not steer them in the right direction?’

‘And what direction would that be, sir?’ Conroy hissed angrily, still trying to keep his voice down.  ‘Granted, he doesnae scream guilty at me, but have ye got a better candidate than Archie English?  If ye have, I’d better get along te Specsavers, ‘cos I’ve nae found hide nae hair of him in the evidence I’ve collated so far.’

That was the first time he had known Neil Conroy lose his temper with him and they had worked together, on-and-off, for ten years.  Both of them fell silent, neither wishing to be the next one to say the wrong word.  Tyler opted to do the same, gazing uncomfortably out of the passenger window, so as not to make eye contact with him, but somebody had to say something. 

It was not DS Conroy’s fault. Was the pressure of running the murder room without an experienced DI overseeing things getting to him? That would have been Dunbar’s preferred set-up, but his brief was to give her much-needed, field experience and, as everyone knew, his DI of choice, Paul Roscoe was unavailable – “wasting his time and talent fulfilling an Acting Chief Inspector role over at D Division”.  That had been how Dunbar had summarised the situation when he enquired as to the man’s availability, despite having already been told that his 2i/c would be DI Briony Tyler.

‘Christ, Paul!’ he’d exclaimed.  ‘What the hell were you thinking?  There’s nae promotion in it.  This force, like all the others, has just been swallowed whole by the new mega-force.  They’re going to need fewer chief inspectors from here on in.’ But it was too late.  DI Roscoe had agreed and was temporarily back in uniform, twiddling his thumbs, in between pushing paper and showing solidarity with the troops by walking the beat or riding along with one of his patrols.  A sheer waste of his ability and they both knew what Paul Roscoe would rather have been doing; helping DCI Alec Dunbar solve the Braur Glen case.   

‘One of us should have stayed behind,’ Tyler eventually offered snapping him out of his musings over what might have been.

Dunbar turned and looked at her.  He hated it when a subordinate knew when he was being unreasonable but too stubborn to back down.  What was worse, he knew what was behind it all.  Molineux and Watt were pissed off at Moody pipping their Deputy Chief to the job as director of SCHU appointment.  Were they planning to wreck his inquiry out of spite or in an effort to derail Dunbar’s appointment?  He would not put such a thing past Bob Molineux but would have been disappointed if Terry Watt stooped to such a thing – but should he be?  Terry Watt always took the path of least resistance and for some inexplicable reason, allowed Bob Molineux to intimidate him.

‘Listen, Neil.  We’re going to swing by Archie English’s on our way back – not to arrest him!’  He emphasised.  ‘We’ll have our own wee case review when we get back.’

‘Okay boss.  It’s been a wee bit stressful havin’ those two on my back,’ Conroy replied, clutching at the olive branch.

‘Aye, well, maybe I should have stayed; we’ll talk about it later.’ It was as close to an apology as he was going to offer.

***

Archie English greeted them with warmth and enthusiasm; not what you might expect from a credible suspect with a police dragnet closing around him but, who knows what an Aspergers sufferer’s perception of normal looks like?  He ushered them through into his tidy, sitting-room-cum-centre-of-operations.  He had created a schematic of the site and pinned it to the wall.  It included the location of the skull, the head and the old sheep pen where Wilson Farish’s head so dramatically reappeared.  They were clearly marked as ‘of police interest only’, in other words, of no significance to him.

‘I do wish you’d solve this case, Chief Inspector Dunbar,’ he moaned, after studying it and taking his seat.

‘You haven’t been talking to my boss by any chance, have you?’

Archie seemed puzzled by the question. ‘No, but erm I will – if – if you think it might help.’  He offered sincerely.  Tyler guffawed, Dunbar scowled but Archie looked even more perplexed.

‘No!  Thanks but – it isn’t through lack of effort, Mr English.’

‘Yes, well, that’s all well and good but – I phoned Professor Geary and she says that she does not feel it appropriate to continue our dig until your enquiry is concluded.’

Dunbar noted the use of the words
our dig
, further self-affirmation that he sees himself as at the centre of things. ‘Do you know a man called Kenneth Edward Murray?’

‘Murray, Murray, Murray,’ he repeated, tapping his index finger on his lips as he thought about the question. ‘Moritreb.’  he eventually said.

‘No, Murray, Kenneth Edward.’

‘They’re not a Borders clan,’ he explained, shaking his head. ‘As usual, there is more than one school of thought regarding the origins of the name Murray.  I favour the derivation of the Moritreb, a northern coastal Pictish tribe associated with what is now –’

‘Not interested in the origins of clan names, Mr English,’ Dunbar cut in impatiently.

‘Ahh, but it’s
so
relevant to this case, would ye no’ say?’  he replied. 

‘We just want to know if you know him.’

‘They hail from the Moray Firth region,’ he continued, ignoring the question.  ‘Moray – Murray.  Like Humes is spelt a variety of ways – Inglis, also evolved into Ingles with an ‘e’ and of course, English, as in my case.  The spellings may vary, the history never does.’

‘I don’t care!’  Dunbar snapped.

‘But you should!  Everybody should.  We are who we are, Chief Inspector.’  Dunbar groaned as Archie continued enthusiastically. ‘The name may also be derived from the Flemish nobleman, Freskin de Moravia – Mor-ray-via,’ he added, breaking it down into single syllables, ‘who gave his name to that region – which makes perfect sense.  Is Murray a variation on Moray or a derivation of Moritreb?  Either way, do you see how these things fall into place?’

‘That’s my problem, Archie, things aren’t falling into place.’

‘I was referring to –’

‘What’s in a name, Archie?’ Dunbar cut in.

‘Everything when we’re discussing the events at Braur Glen.’

‘Apparently not, seeing as how the Murrays seem to have bugger-all to do with it.  Until, that is, Kenneth Edward’s head was unearthed by the professor’s team.’

  ‘That’s what makes it so fascinating,’ he said, eyes darting back and forth between the two detectives.

‘Fascinating?’ Dunbar repeated drily. ‘Did you know him?’

‘No.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes.’

‘When was the last time you saw your mother?’

The question seemed to throw Archie completely.  He searched the room as if expecting to see the answer written on the walls or as if trying to conjure it from the ether, but to no avail.  He knew from the expressions on the two detectives’ faces that a specific reaction was expected, but as usual at such times, eluded him.  The answer lay hidden somewhere in the jumble of sensations he experienced when confronted by talk of his mother, and Archie knew it for what it was, an emotional response, as for expressing that emotion, that was something he had wrestled with all his life but never mastered.  Subsequently, he had long since given up trying.

‘I dinnae know if I ever did,’ he eventually replied, eyeing them in turn, hoping he had got away with it.

‘Ever?’ Tyler asked.

‘Well – when I was born and put to her breast obviously, I must have seen her then, but I have no recollection of her.  Funny though, isn’t it.  Here we are, an advanced life form, lacking that capacity.  And yet, the new born of just about any animal can instantly recognise its parent, even amongst a vast herd.’

‘That’s a survival thing,’ Tyler offered helpfully.

‘Yes, – like migrating wildebeest for instance – the calf can find its mother and the mother its calf.  I’ve seen it on the telly.  But put a new born human baby in that situation or even just in a room of a few people and it would not know which one was its mother.’  He eyed them expecting a response that did not come. Archie shrugged. ‘
Well
, I have survived without mine, so I suppose that makes me even more superior,’ he answered smugly, adding bluntly, ‘she left before my first birthday.’

‘Does that not strike you as strange?  She had a baby and just walked away,’ Dunbar asked.

Again he looked troubled by the question and eyed each of them in turn. ‘God, not man, plants his seed and woman propagates them.’

‘A convenient pearl o’ –
something
.  One o’ grandpa’s?’  Dunbar asked, already sure of the answer.  Archie nodded. ‘Did either of your grandparents ever explain why she left?’

‘Morag was a slut,’ he answered curtly.  It was a learned response.

‘Isn’t her first name Mary?’  Tyler cut in.

‘Yes, but I always think of her as Morag, wicked like the witch.’

‘Did they ever discuss with you why it was they considered her a slut?’ Tyler asked in a gentler tone, sensing her boss was still sore about Molineux and Watt’s interference and Archie habit of digressing.

‘She liked men and sex.  She didnae like me or she would have stayed.  She liked men and sex better.  Grandpa told me that women who have sex with lots of men are sluts and grandma agreed.  Even so, she was sad about it, but grandpa wasn’t.’

‘How old were you when they discussed your mother’s sex life with you?’

‘Seven or eight – I asked why I had grandparents but no parents like other children at school and in the village.  They said my mother had sex with a man that didn’t want to be my father and that she didn’t want to be a mother.  She just wanted to have sex, not babies.’

‘That must have hurt,’ Tyler said.

He shook his head. ‘I don’t want to be a father either.  I suppose some people do, some don’t, but I’ve never had sex with a woman and I won’t – so I can’t.’

‘Just Wilson Farish,’ Dunbar said.

Archie looked at him.  ‘That wasn’t baby-making sex.  That was just a silly game, just for fun, playtime, that’s Wilson called it, and he liked to play it a lot.’

‘Maybe that’s all your mum was doing, Archie – playing silly little sex games.’

Archie frowned. DCI Dunbar’s observation was one he had never considered and something that had certainly never been proposed before. Eventually he shook his head dismissively, grandpa would have told him.

‘No, grandpa wouldn’t have minded if that’s all it was,’ he explained.

‘What makes you say that?’

‘Because he didn’t mind what we did.’

Tyler gasped and snapped around to stare at her boss. ‘He knew?’ she asked, turning back to Archie.  Archie nodded.  ‘Did your grandma?’

‘No.  Grandpa said – you’d better not let her catch you doing that, and we didn’t.’

‘Did Grandpa ever touch you like Wilson did, or get you to –’

‘Nooo,’ he cut in with an embarrassed smile.  ‘Grandpa said that grandpas’ didn’t cuddle boys because boys had to grow up to be men, but it was okay for them to cuddle girls.  Until my mother started to be naughty, grandpa said he used to like to cuddle her.’

‘I bet,’ Dunbar responded.  They could see that he was confused by this line of questioning but no more than that.  Interpersonal relationships, whether family or sexually predatory, had seemingly had little or no impact upon him.  Dunbar met his slightly confused expression impassively, so Archie turned back to look at Tyler quizzically.