sweat.
Bancho’s eyes kept returning to the phone, as if he was afraid to make the call. Who could have that effect on him – the chief constable? Maybe he had to phone in the details of the search. If I’d had my way he’d be serving a seven-year stretch in Saughton Prison this Christmas, and if Bancho had won, I’d be eating my turkey in Cornton Vale with the rest of the women prisoners. It was no wonder we could barely be civil to each other. We’d both been wrong but neither of us was prepared to forgive and forget. No, I didn’t want to admit I owed Duncan Bancho any favours. Maybe we were experiencing something of a truce but there was a long way to go before we buried the hatchet. His fingers trembled as he reached out to make the call. Stress, nerves or drink? I couldn’t blame him if he had a tipple off duty; he was under a lot of pressure to deliver the Ripper. His call was answered immediately. It was on loudspeaker so that Bancho could use his computer and what I heard next was one reason why you should never poke your nose in where it doesn’t belong.
‘Glasgow Joe … it’s me … We’ve got the bastard. We’re gonna get him today at first light.’ DI Bancho panted as I held my breath, trying to keep quiet – he played with the cord on the telephone. He waited, presumably for praise; none came. Instead, Joe embarked on his own interrogation.
‘What was Brodie doing there? Why didn’t she leave with Malcolm? If she was with you – I hope you weren’t daft enough to show her the site.’ There was more than a hint of a threat in Glasgow Joe’s voice. What website? I was now going to make it my business to know .
DI Bancho didn’t question how he got his information – it was one of the things that made Glasgow Joe unique. ‘Do you think I’m stupid?’ DI Bancho asked. Joe didn’t answer him. Bancho turned from the phone and stared at his computer. I couldn’t see what was on the screen.
‘Are you on “The Hobbyist” now?’ Joe asked, accusingly. ‘It was part of our deal you’re supposed to keep track of site traffic and note their threads.’
‘I’ve got a WPC on it full time. Remember, I was the one who told you that Brodie was being mentioned.’
Joe was silent.
I wanted to leap out of my hiding place there and then. Why was I on some website and why it was so important that the police were spending scarce resources monitoring it? Not to mention why these two bastards were keeping me in the dark about it. But I would learn more if I kept quiet. It would also have been slightly embarrassing to have been caught spying on Bancho.
‘There’s no more mention of her – I’ve just checked. Nothing since that first mention at the end of July,’ Bancho wheedled.
‘You shouldn’t need reminding – that site is supposed to be checked at least every two hours. These guys have time on their hands right now – most of them have finished their work for Christmas and their wives are too busy shopping to notice they’re not there.’
The edge was taken off the detective inspector’s high spirits. He stared at his unpolished shoes, it was lucky that he couldn’t see his face in them; his skin was flushed with embarrassment. Bancho hesitated before he flipped open the buff-coloured file in front of him.
‘I’ve got the photograph in front of me. It’s from the usual source; I think it’s enough to go on. Why do you think he posted it to you at the Rag Doll?’
‘I dunno. He obviously knows I’m involved – I’ve been hanging out in every brothel in Leith.’
‘Not true – you’ve been in every slave den in Leith,’ DI Bancho said as he walked towards the wall and pinned up another photograph. I couldn’t get a clear view of it, but it was obviously a man and it looked professional, not knocked off on a camera phone. The first photograph of the Ripper. I decided to wait until Bancho went to the toilet and sneak in to see the monster. He hesitated, glanced
Bancho’s eyes kept returning to the phone, as if he was afraid to make the call. Who could have that effect on him – the chief constable? Maybe he had to phone in the details of the search. If I’d had my way he’d be serving a seven-year stretch in Saughton Prison this Christmas, and if Bancho had won, I’d be eating my turkey in Cornton Vale with the rest of the women prisoners. It was no wonder we could barely be civil to each other. We’d both been wrong but neither of us was prepared to forgive and forget. No, I didn’t want to admit I owed Duncan Bancho any favours. Maybe we were experiencing something of a truce but there was a long way to go before we buried the hatchet. His fingers trembled as he reached out to make the call. Stress, nerves or drink? I couldn’t blame him if he had a tipple off duty; he was under a lot of pressure to deliver the Ripper. His call was answered immediately. It was on loudspeaker so that Bancho could use his computer and what I heard next was one reason why you should never poke your nose in where it doesn’t belong.
‘Glasgow Joe … it’s me … We’ve got the bastard. We’re gonna get him today at first light.’ DI Bancho panted as I held my breath, trying to keep quiet – he played with the cord on the telephone. He waited, presumably for praise; none came. Instead, Joe embarked on his own interrogation.
‘What was Brodie doing there? Why didn’t she leave with Malcolm? If she was with you – I hope you weren’t daft enough to show her the site.’ There was more than a hint of a threat in Glasgow Joe’s voice. What website? I was now going to make it my business to know .
DI Bancho didn’t question how he got his information – it was one of the things that made Glasgow Joe unique. ‘Do you think I’m stupid?’ DI Bancho asked. Joe didn’t answer him. Bancho turned from the phone and stared at his computer. I couldn’t see what was on the screen.
‘Are you on “The Hobbyist” now?’ Joe asked, accusingly. ‘It was part of our deal you’re supposed to keep track of site traffic and note their threads.’
‘I’ve got a WPC on it full time. Remember, I was the one who told you that Brodie was being mentioned.’
Joe was silent.
I wanted to leap out of my hiding place there and then. Why was I on some website and why it was so important that the police were spending scarce resources monitoring it? Not to mention why these two bastards were keeping me in the dark about it. But I would learn more if I kept quiet. It would also have been slightly embarrassing to have been caught spying on Bancho.
‘There’s no more mention of her – I’ve just checked. Nothing since that first mention at the end of July,’ Bancho wheedled.
‘You shouldn’t need reminding – that site is supposed to be checked at least every two hours. These guys have time on their hands right now – most of them have finished their work for Christmas and their wives are too busy shopping to notice they’re not there.’
The edge was taken off the detective inspector’s high spirits. He stared at his unpolished shoes, it was lucky that he couldn’t see his face in them; his skin was flushed with embarrassment. Bancho hesitated before he flipped open the buff-coloured file in front of him.
‘I’ve got the photograph in front of me. It’s from the usual source; I think it’s enough to go on. Why do you think he posted it to you at the Rag Doll?’
‘I dunno. He obviously knows I’m involved – I’ve been hanging out in every brothel in Leith.’
‘Not true – you’ve been in every slave den in Leith,’ DI Bancho said as he walked towards the wall and pinned up another photograph. I couldn’t get a clear view of it, but it was obviously a man and it looked professional, not knocked off on a camera phone. The first photograph of the Ripper. I decided to wait until Bancho went to the toilet and sneak in to see the monster. He hesitated, glanced
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