The Complaints

‘I meant, why did Charles Brogan send you over a bottle of champagne? ’

She looked at him. ‘Well, both Vince and Ro

‘Not exactly.’

She pondered this. ‘Okay,’ she agreed, ‘not exactly. But he’d met them on the site; he knew who they were.’

‘Was it good champagne?’

Breck had asked the question, and Jude turned her head towards him. ‘It was Moët… or something like that. Thirty quid or thereabouts in Asda, so Sandra said.’

‘More like a ton in a casino.’

‘Well, it’s his wife’s place, isn’t it? I doubt he was paying full whack.’

Fox decided to step in. ‘It was a nice gesture, all the same. Did he come over and say hello?’

Jude shook her head. ‘Not that time.’

‘Another time, though?’

Now she was nodding. And Vince’s friend Ro

‘Is that what Vince thought?’

‘Vince thought he had style. When the champagne arrived, Vince had to go shake him by the hand. Brogan just patted him on the shoulder, like it was no big deal.’ She shrugged. ‘Maybe it wasn’t.’

There was a phone ringing. It was Breck’s. He apologised as he lifted it from his pocket and checked the screen. His glance towards Fox confirmed what Fox had already been thinking: Billy Giles.

‘Don’t answer,’ Fox was saying, but Breck had already placed the phone to his ear.

‘Afternoon, sir,’ he said. Then, after listening for a moment: ‘Yes, he’s with me.’ And a few seconds later: ‘Right… yes… understood… Yes, I was there when it happened, but it was really more of a misund-’ Breck broke off and listened some more. Fox couldn’t hear what Giles was saying, but his tone was splenetic. Breck actually eased the phone away from his ear as the diatribe continued.

‘Sounds narked,’ Jude whispered for her brother’s benefit. Fox nodded back. By the time the call ended, blood had risen up Breck’s neck and into his cheeks.

‘Well?’ Fox asked.

‘Our presence is requested,’ Breck explained, ‘at Torphichen, any time within the next half-hour. Any later, and there’ll be patrol cars out trawling for us.’

Jude stared at her brother. ‘What have you done? Is it to do with Vince?’

‘It’s nothing,’ Fox assured her, while locking eyes with Jamie Breck.

‘You were always a terrible liar, Malcolm,’ his sister remarked.

Torphichen: not an interview room this time, but Bad Billy Giles’s i

‘Cosy,’ Fox said, manoeuvring his way in. The place was crowded. Giles was behind his desk, swivelling slightly in his chair and with a pen gripped in his hand like a dagger. Bob McEwan was seated next to the filing cabinet, hands clasped in his lap and with Caroline Stoddart alongside him. She stood with arms folded. Then there were Hall and Dickson. Dickson had given himself a wash and changed into a spare set of clothes, which looked like the result of a whip-round of the other officers in the station. The ill-fitting brown cords did not match the pink polo shirt, which in turn clashed with the green blouson. He was also wearing te

Breck had managed to squeeze into the room behind Fox, but gave up on trying to close the door. Giles tossed his pen down on to the desk and looked towards McEwan.

‘With your permission, Bob…’ Permission was granted with the curtest of nods, and Giles turned his attention back to Fox and Breck.

‘One of my officers wants to make a complaint,’ he told them. ‘Seems he was manhandled to the ground.’

‘That was a misunderstanding, sir,’ Breck explained. ‘And we’re sorry about it. We’ll pay the dry-cleaning costs or any other reasonable expense.’

‘Shut up, Breck,’ Giles snapped. ‘You’re not the one who needs to do the grovelling.’

Fox pulled his shoulders back. ‘Dickson went for me first,’ he stated. ‘I’m not sorry for what I did.’ He paused for a beat. ‘I just didn’t expect him to go down like a sack of spuds.’

‘You prick,’ Dickson snarled, taking half a step forward.

‘Dickson!’ Giles cautioned. ‘My office, my rules!’ Then, to Fox: ‘What I want to know is what you and the Boy Wonder were doing there in the first place.’

‘I told Dickson and Hall at the time,’ Fox replied calmly. ‘I’d already paid one visit to Salamander Point and I liked what I saw. There’s a sales office, and not having much else to do, I decided to see if I could snag a bargain in these straitened times.’

‘Taking DS Breck with you?’

‘Except,’ Hall interrupted, ‘that’s not what happened. You’d asked to speak to Mr Ronald Hendry. He wasn’t happy at being pulled away from his game of football, and even less happy when I asked for him again not ten minutes later.’ He offered Fox a cold smile. Giles allowed the silence to linger, then snatched up his pen and stabbed it in Stoddart’s direction.

‘I think maybe it would be wise,’ she said on cue, ‘if I brought forward my interview with DS Breck.’

‘To when?’ Breck asked.

‘Directly after this meeting.’

He offered a shrug. ‘Fine by me.’

‘Wouldn’t matter if it wasn’t,’ Giles snapped back. ‘And afterwards, I’m ordering the pair of you to cease communication.’

‘And how are you going to enforce that?’ Fox asked. ‘Have us tagged, maybe? Or kept under surveillance?’ As he said this, he glanced in McEwan’s direction.

‘I’ll use whatever methods I think necessary,’ Giles growled. Then, for Breck’s benefit: ‘You’re not doing your prospects much good, son – it’s high time you saw sense!’

‘Yes, sir,’ Jamie Breck replied. ‘Thank you, sir.’ Fox gave him a look, but Breck wasn’t about to make eye contact. He was standing with his hands behind his back, feet slightly apart, head bowed in a show of contrition. ‘And just to reiterate, sir,’ Breck went on, ‘I’d be more than happy to pay whatever compensation’s warranted for DS Dickson’s distress.’ He then leaned past Fox, hand stretched out towards Dickson. Dickson stared at the hand as if it might be booby-trapped.

‘Good man,’ Giles said by way of encouragement, leading Dickson to accept the handshake, but with a baleful stare directed at Fox.

‘Well then…’ Giles was half rising to his feet. ‘Unless Chief Inspector McEwan has anything to add?’

But McEwan didn’t, and neither did Stoddart. She was telling Breck she had a car waiting outside. Their little chat would take place at Fettes. Giles had already ordered Hall and Dickson back to work. ‘We’ve a case to clear up,’ he reminded them.

Fox waited to see if there’d be any further admonishment, but Giles was removing some paperwork from his desk drawer. You’re not important enough, he seemed to be telling Fox. Jamie Breck offered him the briefest of nods as he left.

Fox moved swiftly through the station, not knowing if Dickson and Hall might be ready to spring out at him. When he reached the pavement, Bob McEwan was standing there, knotting his coffee-coloured scarf around his neck.

‘You’re a bloody idiot,’ McEwan told him.

‘It’s hard to deny it,’ Fox offered, sliding his hands into his coat pockets. ‘But something’s behind all this – don’t tell me you don’t feel it too.’

McEwan looked at him, then gave a single, slow nod of the head.

‘That time in the interview room,’ Fox pressed on, gesturing towards the police station, ‘there was a moment where we caught sight of it. The Deputy Chief said I’d been under surveillance most of the week. But that means it was in place before any of this other stuff. So I’m asking you, sir…’ Fox planted himself firmly in front of his boss. ‘How much do you know?’