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Murdo nodded. ‘Good girl. At least Campbell won’t be troubling us again. Maybe that’s some justice.’
Shona took another sip of coffee and swallowed hard. She’d already decided to get Becca into trauma counselling. Her daughter was having nightmares and was horrified by the part she’d played in Campbell’s death, even though she’d saved her mother’s life. The Procurator Fiscal had decided there was no case to answer but Shona didn’t want recent events, decisions made in a fraction of a second, to cast a long shadow over her daughter’s life. She knew how that could happen.
‘Anyway, let’s give Mars Bar Munroe the good news.’ Shona drained her cup and picked up her phone.
Murdo chuckled. ‘It looked like it was killing him today at the funeral. Keeping a lid on this.’ He wiped the powdered sugar from his fingers and began clearing away the cups.
‘Well?’ Detective Superintendent Malcolm Munroe answered after the first ring.
‘It’s as we thought,’ Shona said simply.
‘Okay, bring Hanlon in,’ he said testily. Shona knew he was thinking of his retirement, his legacy. He wanted Baird buried a hero and Hanlon nailed with minimal fallout and no talk of police corruption.
‘So, I’m no longer suspended?’ Shona asked.
‘I never saw any paperwork, Oliver. As far as I’m concerned it never happened. Swing by HQ and collect your warrant card. Seems you left it on my desk.’ He ended the call.
* * *
When Shona and Murdo arrived at the TV studios, the bright block of glass and steel which sat on Glasgow’s dockside, crowds were streaming from its main entrance. Filming for The Enterpriser had just ended, the receptionist told them when Murdo showed his warrant card. The studio was on the second floor. Security would buzz them through.
Kenny Hanlon, in his bright blue checked tweed suit and cockatoo quiff of stiff blond hair, was still on the set and evidently still on a high from his show. He bounced on the balls of his feet like he was about to take off, calling farewells and waving to the dregs of the audience as technicians packed up around him. The neon sign, Your Business is My Business, glowed a deep red behind him.
Shona and Murdo stood for a few moments, assessing the layout, exits and potential risks to the general public should Hanlon attempt to flee. The floor manager, who’d frowned at them until Murdo flashed his badge, was looking at his watch. Hanlon showed no sign of winding down.
‘Mr Hanlon.’ Shona stepped onto the brightly lit stage. Hanlon turned, shielding his eyes. He saw Shona and without missing a beat came towards her.
‘Shona, I was so sorry to hear about your trouble. How is your daughter?’ He took in her dark suit, black coat and low heels and nodded soberly. ‘A sad loss of your fellow officer, I’m sorry I couldn’t be at the funeral.’ He spread his hands wide; it looked for one awful moment as if he might try to hug her. Shona knew the consequences for him would be brutal. Instead, he spun around, rotating through his kingdom. ‘Filming commitments. My fans. I have a responsibility to them all, you know.’
‘Aye, that’s you, pal. Scotland’s answer to Gandhi,’ muttered Murdo.
Shona snapped a handcuff on Hanlon’s outstretched arm. Shocked, he jerked his head round to look at her, but his momentum kept him turning. Shona grabbed his other arm and spun it into the waiting metal link, which clicked shut around his wrist. He came to rest with both arms pinned behind his back.
Heads began to turn among the backstage crew, who paused mid-task and gaped at Hanlon held securely between a small, dark haired woman and her companion with the rugby player’s scowl.
‘What are you doing? This is ridiculous,’ he blustered as Shona read him his rights. Supplying Class A drugs. Conspiracy to murder. ‘This is a prank. Is this for Comic Relief? The director never told me. Douglas, Douglas, you cheeky swine,’ he said into his lapel mic. ‘Just so we’re clear, what’s going on?’
Shona reached across and pulled the mic from his chest. She turned him round to face the neon sign. Your Business is My Business. In the blood-red glow she put her mouth close to his ear. ‘This is no joke, Mr Hanlon. My daughter is fine, and Rob will be too, but a police officer and four other people are dead. You’ve made your business my business. Just so we’re clear, I’m going to nail your bollocks to the floor.’
Chapter 36
In Dumfries CID office, Ravi returned to his chair and sat down with a bump. DC Kate Irving glanced at his shocked face from her desk opposite. She swallowed a bite of her Kit Kat.
‘Well? You’re still in one piece.’ She grinned. Over his shoulder she could see the boss in her office, mid-call with the desk phone tucked into her shoulder and papers strewn around her.
Ravi shook his head. ‘I can’t believe I forgot to DNA Marie Corr.’
‘Will you get an official reprimand?’ Kate’s expression turned serious. Ravi shook his head. ‘Well then,’ she continued, ‘you got off lightly.’
‘I’ve just been beasted by Wee Shona. You call that getting off lightly?’ he said, indignantly. ‘You wait till it’s your turn.’
‘Already been there,’ Kate replied. ‘Suck it up and move on, that’s what the boss says and it’s my advice too. Here.’ She held out a finger of her Kit Kat. ‘Get your blood sugar up, it’s good for shock.’ Ravi took the biscuit from her.
‘I know,’ Ravi sighed. ‘But a mistake like that? If we’d known it wasn’t Isla…’
‘It wouldn’t have made any difference, Rav,’ she replied, then paused. ‘Look, it’s my fault Baird knew we were still investigating. He came to the office one evening and I just let it slip.’ She decided to gloss over the full extent of their conversation, the drunken dinner and sexual near miss. ‘The boss thinks it was Vinny, I’m going to have to tell her. I can’t help feeling if…’
‘Don’t,’ Ravi said. ‘Vin’s the blue-eyed boy for trawling up CCTV of Evan Campbell and Kenny Hanlon, all is forgiven as far as the boss is concerned. Learn from it and move on, that’s my advice.’ Ravi looked past her at a new arrival. ‘Well, well. If it’s not our pal from the south.’ Ravi got up and shook DC Dan Ridley’s hand. ‘Nice to see you.’
