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for?’
    ‘Vocation?’
    ‘Aye. That’s what Paul never had.’
    ‘You weren’t keen on him following the family tradition?’
    Alan Carter was silent for a moment, then he leaned forward as best he could, resting the mug on one knee.
    ‘Paul was never a good son. He ran his mother ragged until the cancer took her. After that, it was his dad’s turn. At the funeral, all he seemed interested in was how much the house was worth, and how much effort it was going to take to get the place emptied.’
    ‘The two of you weren’t exactly friendly, then. Yet he came to see you …’
    ‘I think he’d been partying all night. It was just past noon. How he got the car up here without smashing it …’ Carter stared into the fire. ‘He wanted to do a bit of bragging. But he was maudlin, too – you know the way drink can sometimes take us.’
    ‘One of the reasons I don’t do it.’ Fox took a swig of tea. It was dark and strong, coating his tongue and the back of his throat.
    ‘He came here to show off. Said he was a better cop than any of us. He “owned” Kirkcaldy, and I needn’t go thinking I did, even if I could hide behind an army of bouncers.’
    ‘I get the feeling this is verbatim.’
    ‘Got to have a good memory. Whenever I was called to give evidence, I always knew it by heart – one way to impress a jury.’
    ‘So eventually he told you about Teresa Collins?’
    ‘Aye.’ Carter nodded to himself, still watching the fire spit and crackle. ‘Hers was the only name, but he said there’d been others. I thought the force had seen the back of his kind – maybe you’re not old enough to remember the way it was.’
    ‘Full of racists and sexists?’ Fox paused. ‘And Masons …’
    Carter gave a quiet chuckle.
    ‘It still goes on,’ Fox continued. ‘Maybe not nearly as widespread as it was, but all the same.’
    ‘Your line of work, I suppose you see it more than most.’
    Fox answered with a shrug and placed his empty mug on the floor, declining the offer of a refill. ‘The day he came here, did he mention the others: Scholes, Haldane, Michaelson?’
    ‘Only in passing.’
    ‘Nothing about them bending the rules?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘And you hadn’t heard rumours to that effect?’
    ‘I’d say you’ve got your work cut out there.’
    ‘Mmm.’ Fox sounded as if he were in complete agreement.
    ‘The force is going to want to move on.’
    ‘I’d think so.’ Fox shifted in his chair, hearing it creak beneath him. ‘Can I ask you something else about your nephew?’
    ‘Fire away.’
    ‘Well, it’s one thing to disapprove of what he said he did …’
    ‘But quite another to take it further?’ Carter pursed his lips. ‘I didn’t do anything about it … not straight away. But lying in bed at night, I’d be thinking of Tommy – Paul’s dad. A good man; a really good man. And Paul’s mum, too; such a lovely woman. I was wondering what they’d be thinking. Then there was Teresa Collins – I didn’t know her, but I didn’t like the way he’d talked about her. So I had a quiet word.’
    ‘And this quiet word was with …?’
    ‘Superintendent Hendryson. He’s not there any more. Retired, I seem to think.’
    ‘It’s a woman called Pitkethly nowadays.’
    Carter nodded. ‘It was Hendryson who really started the ball rolling.’
    ‘Nothing happened, though, did it?’
    ‘Teresa Collins wouldn’t talk. Not at first. Without her, there was nothing for the Fife Complaints to investigate.’
    ‘Any idea why she changed her mind?’
    ‘Maybe she was tossing and turning, same as me.’
    ‘You’ve no friends left on the force, Mr Carter?’
    ‘All retired.’
    ‘Superintendent Hendryson?’
    ‘He was after my time, more or less.’
    ‘So you went to Hendryson. He brought in the local Complaints team. They didn’t get very far. But then these other two women came forward, and that’s when Teresa Collins decided she’d cooperate?’
    ‘That’s about the size of it.’
    Fox