Free Eye of the Raven by Ken McClure Page A

involved although Steven had less sympathy for them. By all accounts, they had fully deserved their early exit from the payroll.
    On the other hand, Hector Combe had made such a good job of confessing to the murder that he had utterly convinced the Rev Lawson that he’d done it. The fact that his reason for doing this however, was still far from clear and this annoyed him. He hated loose ends. Now, to add to his unease, he had learned that a known drunk with a reputation for incompetence had been in charge of the forensic evidence against Little. If Little had been convicted by anything other than rock-solid DNA evidence he would have been seriously concerned. As it was, he just wanted to see the notes on Julie’s broken fingers and establish how Combe had come to know about them.
    If they had been broken during a struggle with her assailant, as Lee had suggested, then it might well have been possible for the lab to identify her attacker from material recovered from under her fingernails. He wanted to see this information. Getting hold of it would be an acceptable alternative to trying to find out how Combe knew about the fingers in the first place. Fragments of skin and dried blood identifying David Little as Julie’s attacker would make Combe’s claims irrelevant.
    It took Steven nearly forty-five minutes to cross town in the morning rush hour. He arrived at Fettes Police Headquarters at nearly a quarter past nine to find McClintock in conversation with another officer. Both men stopped talking as he came into view and McClintock adopted a wan smile. ‘Thought you’d changed your mind,’ he said, looking at his watch.
    ‘ Traffic,’ said Steven. ‘All ready to go?’
    McClintock moved uneasily on his feet and cleared his throat unnecessarily before saying, ‘Actually, Chief Superintendent Santini would like a word with you before we go over to the lab.’
    ‘ Oh yes?’ said Steven, making it sound like an accusation.
    ‘ I had to tell him you were here and what was going on,’ said McClintock.
    ‘ No problem,’ said Steven. ‘Where do I find him?’
    McClintock led the way to Santini’s office and affected a friendly grin as he waited for a response to his knock on the door.
    ‘ Come.’
    ‘ Dr Dunbar, sir,’ said McClintock ushering Steven inside and then leaving.
    Santini, a rotund figure in his fifties with a tanned complexion and sleek silvery hair, sat back in his chair and made a steeple with his fingers. He didn’t smile or make any move to shake hands. ‘I understand you have an interest in the Julie Summers case, Doctor’ he said.
    ‘ I have an interest in Hector Combe’s confession to her murder,’ answered Steven. ‘But then I’m sure you know that already.’ He made a gesture towards the door behind him.
    ‘ Always nice to know what’s going on in one’s own backyard, Doctor, don’t you think?’
    ‘ Wherever possible,’ agreed Steven.
    ‘ I called Sci-Med. I’ve just spoken to John Macmillan. He tells me that there are no official plans to review the Summers case.’
    ‘ That’s my understanding too,’ agreed Steven.
    This was not what Santini expected to hear. ‘So you are here in an . . . unofficial capacity?’ he asked.
    ‘ You could say.’
    ‘ I do say,’ snapped Santini. ‘David Little was convicted on cast iron evidence, which no one has ever disputed. Hector Combe could not have carried out the crime. He just wanted to create trouble for the police and you – in your unofficial capacity – seem to be doing your level best to assist him in that objective.’
    ‘ Far from it,’ retorted Steven. ‘I agree with everything you say. I just want to take a look at the forensic evidence that wasn’t used in the trial so that I can be sure in my own mind about something.’
    ‘ What?’ Santini demanded. He then did a fair impression of a cat watching a bird without blinking, Steven thought.
    ‘Three of Julie Summers’ fingers were broken by her assailant