A Deviant Breed (3 page)

‘We haven’t established that for a fact yet, professor,’ Dunbar corrected.

Geary conceded the point with a curt nod. ‘We have!  When it comes to the condition of the skeletons I mean.  The levels of violence are quite evident in the bones and I think that we can safely say that your victim was decapitated, Chief Inspector.  The only issue yet to be resolved is whether it was pre or post-mortem.’ 

Now it was his turn to concede a valid point, which he did, grudgingly.

‘Thank you, Professor.  Rest assured, Alec and the team will get to the bottom of it,’ Watt chimed signalling that the briefing was over.  The team returned to their stations as Watt steered her back out of the room.  Just as Dunbar had suspected, the professor’s contribution, though illuminating from an historical perspective, was of little value to him or his team when it came to throwing any light on the how, when and why a twentieth century skull happened to be buried in the same place as her seventeenth century skeletons.

2

The incident room was up and running and everyone busy.  Dunbar found Professor Geary deep conversation with Terry Watt.

‘I’ve been looking at my OS map, Professor.  Braur Glen’s well off the beaten track.’

‘Indeed it is, a decent map is essential.’

‘Umm, not somewhere you’re likely to stumble across.  You’d have to be following a planned route, looking for it I’d have thought – or maybe looking to bury something with the intention of it never being found.’

‘The Inglis Clan certainly didn’t choose it as their lair by accident, gentlemen.  It was their ancestral home for many, many years, for that very reason and because the approach is difficult.  Braur Glen is a natural redoubt surrounded by challenging terrain that was almost impossible to approach unseen and relatively easy to defend.’

‘Yet still it fell,’ Dunbar quipped with a smirk.

‘Before you interrupted, I was about to qualify that observation – hence it took quite a large, well equipped and determined military force to overcome them.’

‘Do you believe in coincidences, professor?’

‘Your skull, that site.’ She paused for thought before adding, ‘It would be an extraordinary fluke if it proved to be the case.’

‘That’s what I was thinking.  A place of ritual slaughter you called it.’

‘According to legend
and
the body count so far, together with the condition of the remains we’ve uncovered, certainly seems to lend weight to that claim.’

‘Legend? – Myth? – Old wives’ tales? – I thought you were a scientist, Professor.’

Watt cleared his throat and flashed Dunbar a look.  Professor Geary smiled.

‘I am, Chief Inspector,’ she answered curtly. ‘However, many a legend has its roots firmly planted in historical fact. I also have oral histories and some uncorroborated but compelling documentary evidence to go by, and of course, Archie English’s journals and his extraordinarily detailed research notes of his quite obsessive search for Obag’s Holm.’

‘This Archie English character, what’s he like then?’

She hesitated and smiled knowingly, ‘Just that, a character.’

‘I was hoping for something a little less vague, Professor,’ Dunbar retorted, sensing he was going to enjoy testing his wits against the prickly academic.

‘Best you draw your own conclusions, Chief Inspector Dunbar.  My particular field of expertise is with the dead not the living,’ she explained with a weary smile, ‘and the long dead at that.’

‘Fair enough,’ he replied and with that she took her cue to leave.  After a polite nod directed at Watt she turned about and headed for the exit.

‘Remembered where it is you know DI Tyler from yet?’

Professor Geary stopped at the door and half turned. ‘Did she not say I was mistaken?’

‘She implied it – she didn’t say it.’

‘Perhaps I was then,’ Geary opened the door and made to leave.

‘Hers is not a face anyone would forget in a hurry.’

‘You would think not, quite striking.’ The professor allowed the heavy fire door to swing shut behind her with a thump.

‘Jesus, Alec, don’t rub the lass up the wrong way, you’re gonna’ be seein’ a lot of each other over the next few weeks,’ Watt chided, adding, ‘she’s been given permission to continue working other areas of the site.’

Dunbar looked horrified by the news. ‘By who?’

‘HQ via Holyrood,’ Watt imparted the news with grim acceptance as he wafted the authority Geary had handed him before the briefing. ‘Something to do with the restricted digging season on account o’ unseasonable weather, the Professor said.’

‘Brilliant! Is this how it’s going to be under one banner – Holyrood dictating to our top brass how the job gets done?’

‘Plays well for the “Yes” campaign too, Alec mon.  Evidence of yet another English slaughter, this time, of poor wee Border Scots, might well bring some voters doon off the fence.’ Watt smirked and headed for the exit.

‘Talking of politics, remind me again how it was that Briony landed that NCIS gig.’

Dunbar had posed the question quite mischievously, knowing Terry Watt to be the biggest gossip in the senior officers’ mess.  His boss stopped, turned and eyed him wearily but Dunbar could tell that he was eager.  It was old news really, Tyler having been the subject of sexist speculation and tittle-tattle since her surprise appointment to the National Criminal Intelligence Service. He shuffled closer and lowered his voice.

‘Something to do with a paper she wrote for her Master’s degree.’ He looked around as if worried about being overheard. ‘One te watch, Alec.  Her paper caught the eye of Lawrie Minto.’

‘And what perfect timing!  Her pitch for a place on the much vaunted National Homicide and Serious Crime Unit more like.’

‘Which you have drafted; thus securing your own place on it no doubt.’

‘Not on light duties.’

‘Hence I got this gift horse saddled up for ye – and she’s raring to go?’

‘For the record –
sir!
I didn’t pitch for the job.  You landed me with it.’

Watt grinned. ‘
Aye,
there’s nae fathoming the workings o’ providence, eh Alec?’

Dunbar gave his boss a wry smile.  It was the worst kept secret in the force that Briony Tyler’s secondment to NCIS had been secured by someone at the highest level, a career move in keeping with her fast-track promotion to the rank of inspector.  When she returned to Edinburgh, again much to the chagrin of more experienced colleagues, she was granted a sabbatical to complete her Master’s.  Briony Tyler was being groomed to impress the movers-and-shakers of the fledgling national force – Police Scotland.  Terry Watt was right, she was one to watch.

‘Caught the Justice Minister’s eye?’ Dunbar hissed sarcastically. 

‘Administrative streaming of collation, co-ordination and prioritisation of national strategic intelligence-led policing initiatives.’ Watt could neither mask his contempt or lack of conviction. ‘Have ye no seen it? 
Ach!
  The sort o’ bullshit that gives the top landing and Holyrood a hard-on.  I binned it before I got tae the bottom of the first page.’

Dunbar knew it all right.  Unlike Watt, he had read her paper from cover to cover.  It was not without merit even if it was couched in that irritating language of policy wonks.

‘Just cos’ ye dinnae play the game, Alec, dinnae condemn those that do.’

It always amused Dunbar how, when agitated, the Detective Superintendent’s hissy, rapid-fire, Fifer’s dialect came to the fore. 

‘I don’t, but when the dice are loaded it’s, well she’s –’

‘As smart as a whip,’ his boss cut in impatiently, ‘and –’

‘Has a fantastic arse too, yes I’ve noticed, but –’

‘Don’t!’
Watt cautioned firmly. ‘I was going to say – is on the Chief’s radar.’

‘Not to mention the Justice Minister’s,’ Dunbar teased.

‘Look!  The Chief personally signed off on her request for field experience in major criminal enquires – in particular, homicide investigation, so –’

It did not need to be said; he understood all too well, he had no say in the matter. ‘She’s got more letters after her name than she has in it.’

‘Aye, and with the likes o’ the Chief and Lawrie Minto in her corner you’d better mind your Ps and Qs.’

Dunbar looked back to see her chatting amiably with his two sergeants.  ‘Clever undoubtedly, bound for the top? – More than likely, but one thing’s for sure she’s never been measured by anything she’s done on the streets or in the field
.
’

‘Hence she’s riding shotgun for you and it’s the perfect case for her to cut her teeth on, Alec, and the perfect job to test your template for the NHSCU I’d have thought.’

Dunbar cringed, ‘N-H-S-C-U, bit of a clunky acronym don’t you think?’

Watt shrugged.  ‘Until ye come up with a better one. 
Look!
  Give her a chance, mon’. Jobs like this are slow burners.  It’ll allow her time to digest the nuances of a major enquiry and learn the craft from a master.’

‘Flattery’ll get ye’ naewhere,’ he grumbled.

‘She’s on the team sheet, get used to it.’

Dunbar nodded reluctantly. ‘Policy Book?’

‘I’ll run that, best that I keep an eye on the purse strings.  I know you – you’ll be doling out overtime hand over fist.’ At that Watt strode away.

Dunbar shrugged then nodded, quietly relieved that his boss had opted to run the enquiry’s policy book; he had always hated the administrative side of his job.

‘Ancient blood feuds, skulls, archae-friggin’-ologists!’ He grunted, eyeing his briefing notes before slapping them against his palm. ‘Why do I always get the weird ones?’ 

***

Dunbar entered the incident room and scanned his team.  All were busy bar two DCs whose names escaped him, one winding up the other about Hearts’ precarious financial problems, form and precarious position in the Scottish Football League.

‘Falk,’ Dunbar barked.  His trusty Glaswegian DS snapped around.

‘Take DC Hibs there with you and remind him what can be achieved whilst wearing a green and white shirt.’ Diehard Celtic fan Falk chuckled. The DC opened his mouth to object then thought better of it, ‘Inspector – you’re with me,’ and after a beat, ‘Heart of Midlothian.’

‘Greg Reece, sir,’ the other DC snapped back nervously. 

Yes, of course it was, he remembered now. ‘Bodies that have turned up less their heids, that’s men only – between the ages of forty and pensionable age – start looking.’

The detective constable’s eyes widened and with a sigh he plonked himself in front of a computer monitor. ‘Where sir?’

‘National database, I should imagine, hey, Inspector.’

Briony Tyler nodded unconvincingly, ‘Bit of a long shot.’

‘Absolutely, but at least he’ll discover that there’s a lot harder things in life than being a Hearts supporter – and we’ve gotta’ start somewhere.’  DC Reece looked up from his monitor and sneered. ‘Speaking of which, let’s go see our crime scene.  Past time we went to see what all the fuss was about,
eh!?
’ Dunbar was already heading for the door.

‘Who do you support boss?’ DC Reece called after him.

‘My team  kick an oval ball,’ he replied without looking back. ‘And a little too often for my liking last season,’ he muttered as Briony Tyler hurriedly logged off her laptop computer and snatched her coat from the back of her chair.

***

‘Where did he come from?’ Dunbar asked as he started the car.

‘Who?’

‘Reece! I asked for Bob Little.  He’s always been my go-to guy for office manager’s back-stop.’ Dunbar grumbled weaving through the city traffic on his way out of the city.

‘DC Little’s tied up with the Monaghan loan-sharking trial,’ Tyler offered gazing out of the nearside window. ‘DC Reece has just finished a Drugs Squad secondment.’

‘Explains the ear stud and hairdo. Well, he’s not on Drugs Squad now, so that can go.’

‘The hair or the ear stud?’

‘In a perfect world – both!  But I’ll settle for the jewellery, he looks like a feckin’ rent boy.’ An exaggeration that the newly appointed DI let pass without comment.  After a short time stewing over it, Dunbar eventually huffed, ‘Monaghan trial, waste of time.’

She turned and eyed him quizzically. ‘From what I hear sticking Gordon Monaghan in the dock for anything could hardly be considered a waste of time.’

‘In principle but – he’ll walk – he always does.’

‘Perhaps not this time.’

‘Trust me.  He’ll intimidate or buy the jury and witnesses.  Either way he’ll walk.  And if he cannae nobble the jury or scare off the witnesses, Bull Heid’ll cop a plea and keep his boss out’ve it.’

‘Bull Heid,’ she repeated with a scowl.

‘Bryan Docherty, aka Bull Heid.’

‘If that’s the case, why didn’t Bull Heid cop one from the outset and save his boss the bother of a trial at all?’

‘Doc’s playing the odds.  He’d rather have his most effective debt collector and jaw breaker-in-chief on the outside but will sacrifice him if he has to.’

‘Ruthless.’

‘Utterly.’

‘Why do they call him, Doc?’

Dunbar half turned and frowned. ‘How long were you with NCIS?’

‘Not long enough to learn everything there is to know about every criminal on the database.’

‘Not even Edinburgh’s would-be Kingpin?
Tschh!
’ Tyler blushed then bristled as Dunbar continued, ‘after making the transition from football hooligan to gangland enforcer his opening gambit was: “
Did somebody send for a doctor?”
Before cutting some poor bugger.  That, and the fact he favoured a surgical scalpel ‘cos it was easy to conceal.’

‘Nasty bastard.’

‘Very – but sharper than any tool he ever wielded. Never, ever underestimate that mon.’

They travelled in relative silence until he turned off the A68 onto the 687.  ‘So are you going to tell me where Professor Geary knows you from before we get there? Or are we going to have another uncomfortable encounter at the crime scene?’ Tyler eyed him suspiciously. ‘You’re not gonna’ try an’ kid me she was mistaken are you?’