A Deviant Breed (31 page)

‘That depends on one’s definition of rational.’ 

Dunbar and Tyler watched him leave from a window overlooking the car park.  Eventually she turned to look at her boss.

‘
Shit!
’ she exclaimed.

‘I want to know everything there is to know about that man.’

‘It’s him, isn’t it, sir?’

‘Let’s just say, our suspects’ list now has a name on it.’

‘And another thing.’ She turned to fix him sternly. ‘I thought you said luck was the last resort of any enquiry.’

‘Only if you’re counting on it – not when you make your own.  So let’s get busy, Inspector.’

19

A key detail missing from the copies of the NHS documents Falk had secured was the victim’s, or a list of victims’ names.  On the plus side, although no criminal proceedings followed owing to the vulnerable nature of Murray’s alleged victim(s); two police officers from Strathclyde’s Child Protection Unit, at the time, DS Kathryn Muir and DC Diane Maclean, had been drafted in to lend their expertise to the enquiry.  The final decision, however, had rested with the clinical director, Dr Thomas R. Ferguson.  He had listed his three main concerns and reasons for not initiating criminal proceedings as follows:

(A)
   
“The victim(s) would find the police procedure and intimate nature of evidence gathering, interviews and potential trial process too traumatic, and that in turn would be detrimental to their wellbeing, which, as senior consulting psychiatrist, has to be my primary consideration.

(B)
   
Because of the nature of their varied and complex psychoses, any evidence gleaned from such vulnerable witnesses is very likely to be deemed unreliable by a judge and/or a jury. As a result, the process may prove futile and unnecessarily stressful for the patient(s), and ultimately a waste of everyone’s time, and of precious resources.

(C)
   
Any press attention and publicity surrounding the investigation (which – given the nature of the allegations, would almost certainly prove to be the case) would also prove detrimental to the welfare of those involved, to other patients and distressing for the families of the victim(s) and those of others in our care.”

***

In short, he did not want the police involved, and wrote in conclusion:

“The burden of proof is less rigorous under internal disciplinary rules, and grounds for dismissal have been cited. Therefore, the matter could be addressed without putting the patient(s) through further trauma.  I feel that in the interests of justice, the wellbeing of those in my charge and staff morale, the most satisfactory outcome will be achieved by means of an internal review of proven facts, any
substantive
allegations and mitigating circumstances.  Once all the evidence is gathered, and Mr Murray and/or his representative (be they Union and/or legal), has been given opportunity to dispute or refute the charges, I shall adjudicate and take whatever action I deem appropriate, having weighed all the oral and written testimonies and other relevant evidence.”

Rationale or convenience? Either way, Dr Ferguson had raised a number of salient points.  Despite all that, Dunbar still believed the case had warranted an arrest and interview at the very least.  The dirty bastard might well have cracked under pressure, coughed the abuse and copped a guilty plea?  Consequently the outcome was anything but just.  Dismissal
without prejudice,
and instead of answering to the law for his crimes, Murray walked away with a slap on the wrist and his P45, and continued to work with vulnerable women in the community.

The overall tone of Dr Ferguson’s report raised suspicion in Dunbar’s mind that the clinical director wanted the matter dealt with quickly and quietly, and without any fuss. 
Why?
  Yes, he could cite his patient’s wellbeing, but this was not an isolated complaint.  These were allegations of historic abuse.  Reading between the lines it sounded as if he was worried about the effect the fallout from such an enquiry would have on
him
personally, and on his institution, rather than on Murray’s victim(s).  A line manager, Ward Sister Patricia Kerr had clearly not been too happy about the proceedings, having placed on the record her objection to the closed-door manner in which the complaints were handled and even less by leniency shown to Murray. 

Privacy aside, why the hell had the alleged victim(s) not even been named in his confidential report?  It was not as if the record of the internal tribunal was to be released into the public domain.  And why had questions not been asked at a higher level?  Dunbar was leading a double murder and potential serial killer enquiry, and had been forced to resort to pulling some fairly long strings to get his hands on a copy of Dr. Ferguson’s report.  Not only had the allegations been buried, but the subsequent record of it took some digging out.  Somebody somewhere had never wanted it to see light of day.  Then he came across a letter in the documents to the Acting Chief Executive for the Scottish NHS from Detective Sergeant Muir, in which she clearly indicated her disquiet at the way in which the allegations had been dealt with. So the consulting detective sergeant and at least one senior staff member were unhappy with Dr. Ferguson’s handling of the matter.

‘Sounds like a
lunatic was definitely running that bloody asylum,’ Dunbar muttered. ‘
Neil
!’ he barked. ‘Get on the blower to Strathclyde, find out if either of these detectives are still on the job and where I can contact one or both of them if they’re not.’ Conroy got straight on the phone. ‘Then find out everything you can about Doctor Thomas Robert Ferguson, oh, and Sister Patricia Kerr – is she still around?  If so – where?’

***

It was going to prove a day of revelations.  DC Reece had been doing his thing on the internet again.  He had discovered that Sebastian Anthony Vasquez had been adopted by Emile and Marion Vasquez from Arbroath within days of being born.  Unusually, representatives of a children’s charity with close ties to the Church of Scotland had acted as intermediaries in the adoption process, not the social services. His adoptive father, a Catholic, and second generation immigrant from Ullapool, had been a successful fish-trader and haulier, and his adoptive mother, nee Buchanan, a Presbyterian lass from Perth.  It was going to take a lot more digging to uncover the identity of the birth mother though. 

Lacking the evidence to arrest Vasquez, they could not apply for access to those records without running the risk of alerting him.  Protocol would dictate that the registrar’s office would at the very least notify the adoptive parents that an enquiry had been initiated to discover the identity of the birth mother, even if the registrar did not directly contact Dr Vasquez, which was just as likely now he was an adult.  Yet another intriguing development that might possibly lead them nowhere, but an avenue of enquiry Dunbar had to carefully explore. 

***

The answers to his questions soon came rolling in.  DC Diane McLean had since married and emigrated to New Zealand in 1993.  DS Kathryn Muir retired as an Inspector at Paisley and now lived in Oban.  At least, her last known address was given as Oban and pension was still being paid into a bank there.  Human Resources at what was formerly Strathclyde’s HQ – now Police Scotland, Glasgow HR Administrative Centre – assured Neil Conroy that they would get back to them with a full postal address and phone number in due course. 

As for Sister Patricia Kerr, now eighty-one and in declining health, a resident at Kirkhaven Nursing Home in Kirkintilloch, but the good news – she still had all her marbles. 

The nursing home’s manager went as far as to say, ‘Sister Patty,
ach!
The old lass still thinks she runs the show; always pulling the staff up over tardiness and cleanliness and their appearance, so she is.’

‘Ever been to Kirkintilloch?’ Dunbar asked Tyler, as he passed her desk.  She shook her head.  ‘Now’s yer chance.’  He stepped up to Conroy’s monitor and tapped on it to get his attention.  ‘Call me with Kathryn Muir’s number as soon as you get it.’

‘Will do, boss.’

He didn’t have to wait long.  Conroy had the former Strathclyde DS’s home number by the time he got to the car park. 

Dunbar dialled it and waited. ‘Island Sights and Sound Tours,’ an unmistakably Glaswegian accent answered.

‘Kathryn Muir?’ Dunbar asked.

‘Aye, who is –’

‘Hi, my name’s Alec Dunbar, I’m a DCI in Edinburgh, can you spare a minute?’

‘What can I do for you, Chief Inspector?’

‘First off – Island Sights and Sound Tours – tell me more.’ Always show interest in what a retired colleague is doing, it gets them on-side.  Too many feel neglected once they retire, forgotten even, because all too often, they have been.

‘It’s really my son’s business.  We run sailing trips for tourists up the coast, and the Sound of Mull.  We go up as far as around Eigg and Rum.  I just answer the phones but my husband still skippers for him; he always did prefer sailing the boats to running the business.’

‘Mmm, that’s interesting, always fancied seeing the isles from that angle.’

‘Shall I take your booking then?’

‘Right now, I was wondering what you might recall about the internal sex abuse enquiry at Heathlands secure unit near Wishaw?’

She fell silent for a moment. ‘
Ach!
  I remember the door gettin’ slammed in my face. – Well, as good as.  That doctor what’s-his-name?’

‘Ferguson,’ Dunbar offered.

‘Aye, that’s him!  Arrogant bastard.  He wasnae happy when we showed up.’

‘So he didn’t call you in?’

‘
Nae way!
  The parents of one of the female patients made a complaint, encouraged by one o’ the staff if I remember rightly, for all the good it did.’

‘Sister Kerr by any chance.’

‘Name rings a bell, but I cannae remember if it was her the parents were talking to, or their names for that matter.  It’s a canny wee while ago, must be close on twenty years.’

‘Fifteen and a few months.’

  ‘Ach, I’d need to see my old diary and pocket book to be sure o’ anything.’

‘Would you mind if I requested them?’

‘Not a bit, Chief Inspector – that whole business was a damned scandal from start to finish.  A bloody white-wash, so it was.’

‘How come you didn’t proceed with the parents pressing for –?’

‘
Overruled!
’

‘By who?’

‘Ferguson for a start,’ she said, in a voice that still crackled with bitterness. ‘He assumed loco parentis once a patient was signed over to their care – and my boss, when he got a copy of Ferguson’s report.  He wasnae bothered about rocking Ferguson’s boat, but figured he was right.   They wouldnae have made good witnesses, and the boss didnae fancy locking horns with the establishment over it –
end of!
  You’re an SIO.  None o’ yis like a dodgy sex crime on the books as I recall?’

‘I’d like to think I’d have been a bit more supportive, Kathryn.’

‘Wish yis had been my boss back then – an’ it’s Kathy to you, Chief Inspector.’

‘Okay, Kathy, and I’m Alec. So – loco parentis, uh?  Ferguson could overrule even the parents’ wishes?’

‘Oh aye, it was in the small print o’ the documents they had to sign.  Whether they knew it or not, they were effectively washing their hands o’ them.  Such an arrogant mon he was.  Big in the church, his office was like a feckin’ religious shrine.  Pictures o’ him shaking hands with the Moderator o’ the day, archbishops and their like.  Became a lay somethin’ or other after he retired I gather.’

‘Really?  In Glasgow?’

‘That I dinnae know – heard him on a Sunday morning Radio Scotland programme no’ that long ago, a debate show ye know – talkin’ about his role as a trustee and then they got onto abuse issues. Ach, I turned the bugger off.  Pious, hypocritical bastard.’

‘Well, thanks for your time, Kathy.’

‘You’re welcome, Alec – pop up an’ take that trip some time.’

Dunbar hung up.  He just might, he thought, as he rang Neil Conroy back.

‘Yes, boss,’ Conroy answered.

‘Dr Thomas R. Ferguson is a Church of Scotland trustee.  See what you can find out about that.  What his role is? – that sort of thing.’

‘Will do.’

‘And put a request in to Strathclyde for Kathy Muir’s pocket notebook and diary for the relevant dates, and any other relevant material regarding that Heathlands fiasco.’

‘Got it!’

Dunbar was just about to hang up when Conroy caught his attention again.

‘Doc Monaghan’s been knifed.’

‘Fatally?’

‘I wish, ach, we all wish!’ Conroy hissed, then cackled, ‘but the bastard’s got two more orifices that he had before he left the house yesterday.’

‘Anybody in the traps for it?’

‘Nae!  Doc’s callin’ it a DIY accident, but a guy with a bandage over his left hand was seen hanging about near his place not long before the shithouse had his –
accident.
’

‘So, he knows who it is and will be dispensing his own summary justice.’

‘Doesn’t he always?’

‘Division better find this Pickle Hickson, before Doc does. 
If
that’s who it was.  One way or the other we’ll have another murder on our hands before long.’

‘My money’s on Doc findin’ him first.’

Dunbar hung up.  Conroy was right.  It was one of the many reasons Gordon Monaghan had always managed to stay one step ahead of them.  His intelligence network was more efficient, and he had the added advantage of the fear factor.  Everyone in Edinburgh knew, or soon learned, to fear him over the sanction of the law.

***