Page 41 of The Final Vow (Washington Poe #7)

Not something. Someone.

He was called Stephen Gilbert. He was a Gretna resident and he was on Bradshaw’s list. He was the only Gretna resident on Bradshaw’s list. He was an orderly at the Dumfries and Galloway Royal Infirmary.

Had been there since the hospital opened in the mid-seventies.

It was his first and only job. Which didn’t fit the profile Poe had built up in his mind.

He had been thinking ex-military. Someone who’d maybe seen too much.

Or maybe someone who’d seen too little .

Resented not having fired his weapon in anger.

Gilbert had been caught in Bradshaw’s net as he was active in the tabletop role-playing game community. He was on one of the more obscure mailing lists they’d gathered at the NEC that morning.

‘Commander Mathers is coordinating the national response, but she’s not in charge here, I am,’ she said. ‘Rachelle Callaghan’s body is still warm, and I’ve been given a name for the person who might have pulled the trigger. Armed response are going in now.’

Poe couldn’t argue with that logic. The jurisdiction was clear: it was her investigation. It was her call to make. Poe’s job now was to get out of her way. He joined Bradshaw in their car.

‘Is she waiting for Commander Mathers, Poe?’ Bradshaw asked.

‘She isn’t.’

‘Should we tell Commander Mathers?’

Poe shook his head. ‘We shouldn’t, Tilly. Chief Superintendent McCloud needs to be able to focus now.’

‘Do you think Stephen Gilbert is the sniper? I’d be ever so surprised if he were.’

‘Yeah, I’m not getting the vibe either.’

Bradshaw snorted. ‘Vibe? As if I would ever base my decisions on something so frivolous.’

‘OK, smarty-pants, what are you basing it on?’

She showed him her laptop screen. She was on an NHS website. It wasn’t a public-facing page. This was an admin page. ‘This is Dumfries and Galloway Infirmary’s estates department, Poe. It’s the department that manages the porters.’

‘OK.’

‘When they’re on nights, the porters work a four-on, four-off shift pattern. Tonight is his third night.’

Poe did some mental arithmetic. ‘So he could have shot Rachelle Callaghan?’

‘Yes, Poe.’

‘But?’

‘But he couldn’t have shot Jools Arreghini. He couldn’t have shot seven of the nineteen victims. He was working the dayshift. And I’ve checked the handover notes – Stephen Gilbert didn’t call in sick and he wasn’t on leave. He was working when he was scheduled to.’

‘Damn,’ Poe said. ‘This was one of those times when I was hoping to be wrong.’

Bradshaw patted his arm. ‘Never mind, Poe. You can be wrong about something else. Are we going to tell Chief Superintendent McCloud?’

Poe looked over at McCloud. She was in a huddle with some of her senior officers. Looked as though she was issuing instructions.

‘She’s committed now, Tilly,’ he said. ‘I think we need to let her see this through. I don’t want to confuse things. There’ll be a lot of nervous energy around right now. I don’t want anyone getting hurt.’

They watched as McCloud climbed into the back of an armed response Mitsubishi Shogun. It drove off. No blues and twos. There was no need. They were the only cars on the road. Poe stared after them. Bradshaw went back to her computer.

There was nothing to do but wait.