Eye of the Raven by Ken McClure Page B

things. Someone in the lab put them in the wrong rack. We’re all human.’
    Steven was taken aback at Lee’s shifting of blame away from himself and apparent dismissal of such a serious mistake but resisted the urge to point this out. Instead he said, ‘I understand that the samples were analysed before they were lost?’
    ‘ Exactly, so it was no big deal.’
    ‘ But to all intents and purposes the evidence was rendered useless because the Procurator Fiscal couldn’t use it in case of a Defence challenge?’ countered Steven.
    ‘ His decision not mine,’ snapped Lee.
    Steven was amazed at the arrogance still residing within this alcohol-ravaged shell of a man. He clearly believed that he had done nothing wrong and that he was just a victim of circumstance. ‘Did the evidence back up the case against David Little?’ he asked.
    ‘ Of course it did!’ exclaimed Lee, but he broke off eye contact.
    ‘ I’m particularly concerned with the scrapings taken from under the girl’s fingernails,’ said Steven.
    ‘ What about them?’
    ‘ Did they point to David Little?
    ‘ Yes, of course they did.’
    ‘ You remember that clearly?’
    ‘ Yes, dammit.’ Lee still kept his head down.
    ‘ You got DNA from them?’
    ‘ Yes, how many times do I have to . . .’
    ‘ Who did the DNA fingerprinting?
    ‘ I did.’
    ‘ You personally carried out the DNA sequencing on the material obtained from under Julie Summers’ fingernails?’ asked Steven slowly so that there could be no misunderstanding.
    ‘ Yes,’ said Lee, finally looking up at Steven.
    ‘ What about the hard evidence of that? Sequence data? Gel Photographs?’
    ‘ It’ll all be in the lab in Edinburgh somewhere.’
    ‘ It isn’t.’
    ‘ Then I suppose they must have thrown it out. You’ll have to talk to them about that.’
    ‘ I already did,’ said Steven, choosing to stare directly at Lee. ‘No one there ever saw it. They don’t think you left it behind when you retired. I hoped you might still have it somewhere but your wife tells me you had a bit of a bonfire before you left Edinburgh?’
    Lee looked at Steven, his sunken dark eyes sizing him up for a few moments as he considered what had been said. His reaction made Steven think that this might perhaps be the first time that Lee had heard of any bonfire. ‘That’s true,’ said Lee softly. ‘My old files may well have been confined to the flames . . . ashes to ashes and all that. A bonfire of past vanities, the funeral pyre of a career, sacrificed on the altar of some idiot and his loony mother.’
    ‘ Let’s see if I’ve got this right,’ said Steven. ‘You were responsible for losing the forensic samples and then you followed up by destroying all the lab reports on them?’
    Lee’s self-satisfied muse was well and truly fractured. ‘Just what the hell are you getting at?’ he stormed, setting off a round of coughing. It was interspersed with more angry comments when he could catch his breath. ‘What the fuck does it matter if a few old lab reports have gone missing. They were never used . . . because they were never bloody needed! The evidence against Little was overwhelming!’
    Lee now entered a prolonged bout of coughing during which his wife came into the room with a glass of water for him. As he sipped it Mary Lee turned to Steven and said, ‘Get out! Leave us alone! Can’t you see the damage you’re doing?’
    ‘ I’m sorry,’ said Steven. ‘But I may have to come back.’
    Steven stood for a moment outside the cottage, looking at the view and wondering where to go from here. He was aware of the muted sound of Lee’s coughing coming from the bedroom at the back of the house.
    ‘ Shit,’ he murmured. Lee had told him that he personally had analysed the material taken from under Julie’s nails but Carol Bain had suggested that he was incapable of doing that. One of them was lying and he didn’t think it was Carol Bain.
    The rain gave way to watery spring sunshine