18 - Aftershock

by Quintin Jardine

  McIlhenney smiled. ‘Don’t have her brought. You go and get her, and when you do, make sure you walk her past the room where Weekes is waiting, and that the door’s open, enough for them to see each other.’

  ‘But not talk?’

  ‘Hell, no.’

  Stallings left.

  The superintendent looked around her office, wondering how she had managed to cope with the change from London. One thing struck him: she had the neatest detective’s desk that he had ever seen. The live files, on which she was working, were all stacked in a tray. There were no notes scattered about on scraps of paper, just a single pad, with a pen alongside it. Her computer keyboard was slid away out of sight. This was a person whose working life was meticulously organised. He made a mental note to find out, subtly, from Ray Wilding whether she was a slob at home.

  She returned after a few minutes, followed by a woman in uniform. ‘Detective Superintendent McIlhenney,’ she announced, ‘this is PC Grey.’ The newcomer looked as if the summer had passed her by: her face matched her name, and she seemed to be shivering slightly as she took a seat, facing the detectives across the desk. They looked at her, neither speaking.

  ‘What have I done?’ she asked, at last, tremulously.

  A friendly smile spread across McIlhenney’s face. ‘I don’t know, Mae,’ he replied. ‘What have you done?’

  ‘Nothing that I know of.’

  ‘Good for you.’ He laughed. ‘I’ve done plenty that I know of, and wouldn’t want to talk about. Don’t worry yourself: it’s not you that’s under the spotlight. Take your hat off, put yourself at your ease.’ He paused as she took him up on the invitation, revealing blonde hair, pulled back behind her head. He glanced at her left hand as it lay on her lap. There was a ring on her third finger, with a chip of something that might have been diamond. ‘Can you remember where you were the Friday morning before last, between seven and nine?’ he continued.

  As the constable searched her memory, a little colour began to return to her face. ‘Yes,’ she replied. ‘Most of the time I was filling in for the lollipop man at the primary near the station; he’d called in sick and they needed someone to see the kids across the road.’ She frowned. ‘But nothing happened. I mean, there were no incidents or anything.’

  ‘I know; that’s not why we want to talk to you.’

  ‘Is it about Theo?’ she blurted out. ‘I saw him in a waiting room when I was brought up here.’

  ‘You and he are engaged, aren’t you?’

  ‘Yes, sort of.’

  ‘Sort of?’ The superintendent chuckled. ‘That’s a bit like being sort of pregnant, isn’t it? Not that I’m implying anything,’ he added.

  PC Grey smiled, briefly. ‘Well yes, we’re definitely engaged.’ She paused. ‘And I’m definitely not pregnant.’

  ‘First things first, eh?’ said Stallings. ‘Have the two of you set a date yet?’

  ‘No, not yet. There’s plenty of time for that.’

  ‘Is that what you both think?’

  The constable looked at her a little quizzically. ‘Well, yes, I suppose so.’

  ‘How long have you been engaged?’

  ‘Officially?’

  ‘There’s no other way in my book.’

  ‘Nearly two years: since three months after we started seeing each other.’

  ‘That’s a long time, by current standards. But I don’t blame you, not rushing into things, especially since he must have been on the rebound when you met.’

  ‘On the rebound? No, his marriage was over well before we got together. I’d have been wary otherwise.’

  ‘Does he ever talk about his ex?’

  ‘Now and again. He says she was a cow and he doesn’t know why he ever married her.’

  ‘He’s well out of it, then. But, actually, I wasn’t talking about her. I meant he was on the rebound from Sugar.’

  ‘Who?’

  McIlhenney studied her face: she seemed genuinely bewildered. ‘DI Stallings meant Sugar Dean,’ he said. ‘He was engaged to her before you.’

  ‘Sugar Dean?’ Grey repeated. ‘The girl that was murdered. Her whose picture’s all over our station?’

  ‘That’s the girl.’

  ‘Theo was engaged to her?’

  ‘He never told you?’

  She bit her lip, and shook her head.

  ‘Maybe you just didn’t realise they were engaged,’ Stallings suggested gently. ‘Maybe he just didn’t make himself clear.’

  ‘No. I never heard of Sugar Dean until last night, on the news on Talk 107.’

  ‘Did he ever mention anyone else, other than Lisanne, his ex-wife?’

  ‘No.’

  The inspector frowned. ‘I’m sorry to have to ask you this, Mae, but when did you and Theo first have sex?’

  She glanced at McIlhenney: he was staring at a point on the wall. ‘More or less as soon as we started going together.’

  ‘Were you seeing anyone else at the time?’

  ‘You mean was I sleeping with anyone else?’

  ‘Yes, I do.’

  ‘No, and I hadn’t been for some time.’

  ‘This is where it gets even more delicate. About two years ago, maybe just before you were engaged, did you contract an infection?’

  ‘I had the flu.’

  ‘I didn’t mean that kind of infection.’

  The constable stared at her; then her face reddened. ‘No!’ she protested. ‘Certainly not!’

  ‘Thank God for that. But Theo did: he told us so and we’ve confirmed it. That was why his engagement to Sugar ended.’

  ‘You mean the bitch gave it to him?’

  ‘No. Other way around.’

  The woman seemed to rock back in her seat, stunned by the news. ‘The bastard,’ she hissed. ‘Wait till I see him!’ She thought for a few moments. ‘Of course,’ she went on, ‘it was unlikely that I’d get it, because we always use rubbers. Theo’s always on at me to go on the pill, but I won’t. I don’t fancy the health risks.’

  ‘I can understand that,’ said Stallings.

  ‘This disease: did Theo say where he got it?’

  ‘I think that’s something you have to ask him.’

  ‘Right now, I’m not sure I want to ask him anything.’

  ‘Do you find him possessive?’ the inspector asked.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Jealous.’

  ‘No, but he’s got no cause to be. Mind you, he’s always asking about the job, who I’ve been working with and such. There was one time I was out on patrol in Livingston and I saw him. I asked if he was following me, and he laughed.’

  ‘How’s he been lately, Mae?’ McIlhenney asked. ‘His usual self?’

  ‘Randy as ever.’

  ‘I know your listed address is your folks’ place, but do you actually live with Theo? No comeback if you do, you can be frank with us.’

  ‘No,’ she replied. ‘I’ve suggested it a couple of times, but he’s always said it’s better to wait until we’re married.’

  ‘Do you have a key to his house?’

  ‘No, and now I can understand why. You asked how he’s been. Normally Theo’s easy-going, as long as I don’t put pressure on him . . . he’s not a guy you nag . . . but about three weeks ago I was at his place, and I could tell there was something wrong. Eventually I asked him. At first he said it was nothing, but I could see it wasn’t. So I asked him again, and he said, “She’s a fuckin’ bitch and I could kill her.” I don’t know what Lisanne had done, but it had really got to him.’

  ‘We don’t think it was Lisanne, Mae. According to his statement, they’re still on intimate terms. We think it was Sugar.’

  ‘And you think . . .’ the woman gasped.

  ‘Let’s just say that we’re looking into the possibility,’ Stallings told her. ‘That’s all for now, Mae.’ She took a card from her pocket and slid it across the desk. ‘We’ll contact you if we need to speak to you again. If anything else occurs to you, at
any time, that’s my mobile number. Don’t hesitate to use it.’

  Thirty-two

  ‘Where are we? We’re just crossing the border at a place called Cerbère. Aileen’s driving, to the car’s great relief. We’ve been up in France and now we’re taking the long twisty way back.’

  ‘Day-tripping?’ said Andy Martin. ‘That’s not like you. I thought you hardly went the length of yourself when you went on holiday.’

  ‘This was a special case; just doing a favour for our friends Mario and Neil.’

  ‘What the . . . ? You’re a workaholic, man.’

  ‘No, I’m not, honest,’ Skinner assured him. ‘My sabbatical’s cured me of that. It was something that needed doing and the easiest way was for me to do it. Now listen, this call’s costing me a bomb: you’ll have heard from Jimmy by now, yes?’

  ‘Yes. A few hours back.’

  ‘And you agreed to what he asked?’

  ‘He talked me into it.’

  ‘That’s good; I need the best for this.’

  ‘I’m not sure you do. It’s cut and dried. I interview people, with Mackenzie alongside me as back-up. I’ve checked that it’s okay to use him, and it is, since he was off sick when all this stuff happened, and not involved in any of it.’

  ‘Do it formally, on tape.’

  Martin laughed. ‘Of course I will; it’d be fucking “Tea and biscuits, how’re you doing?” otherwise. But I know most of the people in the Crown Office, apart from this guy Dowley. They’re all sound.’

  ‘You start with that bastard. He’s the reason for all this fuss. Plus, he pissed off Jimmy and tried to bully Neil.’

  ‘Silly man, twice. But, Bob, I don’t have to point out to you, do I, that this is an independent inquiry?’

  ‘Sorry, you’re right,’ Skinner conceded. ‘You’ll have to interview me before it’s done.’

  ‘Not if I find a leak first. How do you rate my chances?’

  ‘What did Muhammad Ali say? “Slim and none, and Slim’s on vacation.” There probably isn’t a leak. This may not be a copycat at all, whatever the Glimmer Twins think. There are two suspects directly linked to the Dean girl. We’ve got the likelier one in our hands and we’re looking for the other.’

  ‘Then why do you need to haul me down from Dundee?’

  ‘Because I want you to exceed your brief. Fulfil it, yes, but while you’re at it, I’d like you to review the whole story, everything that led up to the row with the Crown Agent. Are you up for that?’

  ‘From the beginning?’

  ‘Yes, the Ballester murders, Stevie Steele’s death, right through to the Sugar Dean case. I want you to look at it all, to see if anything strikes you that we haven’t hit on. That’s the real reason I want you in Edinburgh. I could handle Dowley myself, but I don’t want to do that. He’s done me a favour: he’s given me the chance to bring you on board. I want you to do what you do best: I want you to think outside the box.’

  Martin chuckled. ‘Just like old times?’

  ‘Just like old times,’ said Skinner. ‘I’ve missed you, son.’

  ‘Okay. I’ll do it. Will anyone else have to know?’

  ‘Mario. And if you tell him, his blood brother had better be in the picture as well. But that’s all. Mackenzie’s in on the leak inquiry, but not this.’

  ‘Fine. I’ll be there tomorrow.’

  ‘That’s good. I’ve fixed it for you to use my office till I get back next Monday.’ Skinner paused. ‘Hey, did Jimmy tell you anything else?’

  ‘He told me he’s leaving next month. Decision time, Bob. Are you going for it?’

  ‘Decision made. Answer, yes.’

  ‘In that case, you should know I won’t be getting in your way.’

  ‘That’s entirely your decision. I’ll understand if you do apply.’

  ‘That won’t happen.’

  ‘In that case, if I’m appointed . . .’

  ‘Let’s cross that one when we get there. How does Aileen feel about it?’

  ‘The fact that I’m doing it should tell you that. We’ve got a deal. I apply for the job, she marries me.’

  ‘She’s a brave woman.’ Martin chuckled.

  ‘She is that. See you.’ He ended the call, and looked across with a smile of satisfaction. ‘Done,’ he said quietly.

  ‘What do you think he’s going to find?’ Aileen asked.

  ‘We’ll see; maybe zilch. Tell you one thing, though: if it’s there, Andy will turn it up.’ He flipped the phone open and scrolled through the address book. ‘Now let’s see what I can dig out myself.’ He dialled a number and put the phone to his ear. A female voice answered, cautiously.

  ‘Dennis.’

  ‘Amanda, it’s Bob Skinner.’

  ‘Hello, Bob,’ said the acting director of MI5. ‘Are you in London?’

  ‘No, I’m not. As of a couple of minutes ago, I’m in Spain.’

  ‘Too bad, I reckon you owe me dinner.’

  ‘You’re right. I’ll tell you what, start a tab and I’ll square you up next time we meet.’

  ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘Someone in my set-up is doing a bit of freelance work, trying to get an angle on Dražen Boras. She might need a couple of doors opened.’

  ‘Freelance work? Don’t you have confidence in your Northumbrian colleagues’ ability to find him?’

  ‘Not a lot, no. They don’t have this person’s motivation.’

  ‘Who is it?’

  ‘Maggie Steele.’

  ‘Jesus, Bob, the victim’s widow?’

  ‘Are you shocked?’

  ‘You’re taking a chance.’

  ‘No, it’s purely a desk job. But if she does come up with any leads, she may need help in checking them out.’

  ‘Sounds to me like you really need a contact in MI6.’

  ‘I don’t think our interests coincide. From what you told me, they might not want Boras traced.’

  ‘True. Very well, if she needs our assistance, tell her to ask for Adrian St John. He’s in our counter-terrorist unit, but he’s best placed to help. I’ll brief him.’

  ‘Thanks.’ He paused.

  ‘There’s more?’ Amanda Dennis chuckled.

  ‘One more thing.’

  ‘Your tab’s getting longer by the minute.’

  ‘Remember in the bad old days in Ireland, people who were considered targets were issued with firearms for personal protection? I haven’t come up against it for a while, but in this new high-alert era, I wondered if it still happens, say, with someone who might not qualify for full-scale protection-squad cover.’

  ‘It’s possible. Do you have anyone in mind?’

  ‘Let’s keep it broad and say politicians.’

  ‘You don’t want to give me a name?’

  Skinner sighed. ‘Shadow Defence.’

  ‘Him? Wouldn’t be surprised; he’s abrasive and high profile, bloody well asking for it. He’s also Jewish, although he says he’s non-practising; that makes him an even more inviting target for Islamic terrorists. I’ll find out. Call me back in a couple of hours.’

  ‘Will do.’

  ‘By the way, Bob,’ said Dennis, ‘I’m rather partial to a place called Passione.’

  Thirty-three

  Sauce Haddock stuck his head round the inspector’s door. He nodded to McIlhenney. ‘Sorry to interrupt, sir.’

  ‘Don’t be,’ said Stallings. ‘What have you got?’

  ‘A result from Davis Colledge’s bank, ma’am. His debit card was used again yesterday morning, in Collioure, at the same ATM he used on Saturday. He pulled another three hundred euros. But there’s more. He used it again today, in Perpignan, at a terminal in the railway station: another three hundred.’

  ‘He’s drawn nine hundred euros since last weekend? What the hell’s he doing?’

  ‘Good question,’ the superintendent murmured. ‘And here’s another. What’s he doing in Perpignan? According to his landlady, he set off to explore the coast. Perpignan’s i
nland.’

  ‘If he was at the railway station, he’s catching a train. Maybe he meant the Mediterranean coast as a whole, not just the local area. Maybe something got lost in translation.’

  ‘Maybe, maybe. But I don’t like it. We need to find this boy, yet it’s as if he’s out to make sure we don’t.’ He looked at Haddock, still in the doorway. ‘Thanks, Sauce,’ he said. ‘That was quick work.’

  ‘I’ve still got to check his credit card, sir.’

  ‘You do that. See if he’s used it for anything that might give us a clue as to where he’s headed.’

  ‘Very good, sir.’

  Stallings smiled as the door closed on the constable. ‘It’s a long time since I’ve seen enthusiasm like that in a young DC,’ she said.

  ‘Me too,’ McIlhenney agreed. ‘You might be calling him “sir” before you retire. He’s quite a contrast with PC Weekes. What are you going to do about him?’

  ‘What do you want me to do?’

  ‘It’s your decision. I might have taken part in the Grey interview, but you’re still the SIO.’

  ‘I want to hold him overnight; would you have a problem with that?’

  The superintendent smiled. ‘Christ, Becky, why do I have to say it twice? You’re running this investigation. You want to hold him, you hold him. You’ve got grounds. He’s uttered threats against the victim and he can’t offer us an alibi for the time of the murder. On top of that he has a pattern of obsessive, controlling behaviour towards women. Has he asked for a lawyer yet?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You might want to make sure he’s given the opportunity. Otherwise, bang him up, and I’ll have the press office say that someone’s helping with our enquiries. He’ll need to be formally suspended, but I’ll take care of that.’ He paused. ‘When are you going to talk to him again?’

  ‘Not until the searches are complete, and maybe not even till I get the DNA result. I want to talk to his ex-wife first: Jack and I are taking the search team up to her place. We’ll go in first to explain what’s happened; it’ll be kinder that way.’

  ‘Safer too. If PC Grey’s anything to go by, this woman may know little or nothing about Weekes’s other life. The last thing we need is to be heavy-handed with her and send her running to the press.’