Knox sniffed. ‘Killed them, didn’t he? Whole family – think he said they had a couple kids too. Course, Charley’s running round with blood pouring out his bitten cock, getting his DNA everywhere, like. Had to burn the house down in the end. Got away with it too.’
Silence.
‘All because that priest made him turn his back on God. Fascinating bloke, like, you wouldn’t believe how much Charley knew about picking locks, bypassing alarm systems, getting rid of evidence…’ Knox gave Logan a wink. ‘Course, might’ve made the whole thing up, you know? For all I know he got too frisky with someone’s Jack Russell and didn’t want anyone to think he was a pervert.’
Danby snapped on the radio, then poked at the buttons until something orchestral thumped out of the speakers. North Anderson Drive was usually quiet at this time on a Sunday morning, but one lane had been blocked off to allow orange traffic cones to breed. There was no sign of anyone actually working, but it was enough to force the traffic to crawl all the way from Middlefield Road to the Haudagain roundabout. The other side of the Don was barely visible through the sleet; the whole scene rendered in shades of grey, punctuated by angry red taillights.
‘Nothing like being at home, is it, Graeme?’ Knox wiped a hand across the window next to him, clearing a space in the fog. ‘Do you still see Billy Adams’s wife?’
Danby stared straight ahead, following the stream of flickering brake lights.
‘Think he ever found out? Think that’s why he topped himself?’
The superintendent’s voice was a dark rumble. ‘Leave it, Richard. Know what I’m saying?’
‘Just wondering. Trip to a graveyard makes you think about things like that, doesn’t it? Death. Life. Betrayal.’
‘I
Knox shrugged, then went back to staring out of the window.
21
Logan stuffed his hands deeper into his pockets. ‘He’s going to catch his death.’
Danby shifted his weight, and grimaced. ‘What a shame
They were standing in the lee of a small mausoleum, about thirty yards from where Knox was kneeling, head bent in prayer, in front of a weathered headstone, carrier bag clutched to his chest. A gust of wind brought in another flurry of sleet, shivering the skeletal trees dotted between the graves.
The Sacro team had positioned themselves a respectful distance from Knox and his devotions – trying to control a writhing umbrella that looked determined to make a break for freedom.
Logan watched Danby rubbing his leg again. ‘You OK?’
‘When it’s really cold the metalwork in my leg contracts. Nips a bit.’
Grove Cemetery perched on a steep slope overlooking the River Dee, a huge Tesco supermarket, the Grampian Country Chickens factory, and a sewage treatment plant. Today Logan could barely see the lights twinkling on the other side of the river – the view swallowed up by the low clouds and driving sleet.
A train grumbled past on the line at the top of the graveyard, windows full of miserable faces on their way north.
Logan craned his neck looking through the trees at the bottom of the hill, towards the wee park where Samantha still kept her Portakabin-style static caravan. Not that she spent much time there any more.
Danby turned his head and spat, the wind whipping it away before it could spatter someone’s headstone. ‘Soon as we’re back at the station, call Frankland Prison: I want the name of everyone Knox shared a cell with. We’re looking for someone done for housebreaking and rape. Then crosscheck for unsolved murders where a house was burnt to destroy the evidence – two or more victims. The bastard might’ve got away with it up till now, but that’s about to change, know what I’m saying?’
Logan nodded. ‘Was already on my to-do list.’
‘Good.’
Knox still hadn’t moved.
Danby hunched his shoulders, pulling his upturned collar closer to his ears. ‘Should’ve brought a bloody hat.’ The top of his bald head was getting pinker and pinker in the driving sleet. ‘Or stayed in the car.’
The DSI turned and glowered downhill at the car park, where the scabby maroon council Transit van sat between the CID pool car and a massive black Range Rover. The surveillance team would be sitting with the engine running, heaters on full, sharing a tartan thermos of hot coffee.
Bastards.
Logan cleared his throat. ‘Why’s Knox so obsessed with DI Billy Adams?’
Danby kept his eyes on the ex-council van. ‘DI?’
‘I did some digging.’
Sniff. The superintendent sent another gobbet of spit flying. ‘Did you now.’
The only sound was the wind, slamming into the exposed cemetery, the creak of the bare trees, the distant rumble of traffic on Auchmill Road.
Ah well, it’d been worth a go.
