A Breath on Dying Embers

by Denzil Meyrick

  ‘No, it’s grand, right enough,’ replied Annie. ‘I shouldna wonder if the duke and duchess come in at any moment.’

  ‘Aye, they’ll likely get the green light tae come doon now you’re here,’ Hamish said, removing the pipe from his sporran.

  ‘No smoking, I’m afraid, sir,’ said a steward, staring beyond Hamish’s pipe to his tie.

  ‘I’ll no’ be smoking, son, jeest having a sook.’

  ‘No vaping either, I’m afraid. Though there is a dedicated place on deck should you require it, sir.’ The man shifted his gaze from Hamish’s tie and took the tray of drinks he was carrying to a table beyond them.

  ‘This bloody vaping thing again. Naebody will explain whoot the hell it is.’ Hamish gave Annie a bewildered look.

  ‘It’d take too long tae explain. Jeest you do whoot you always do an’ take a sook at your pipe. Mind, don’t get drunk and forget you’re in a no-smoking zone.’

  ‘See you, you’re a right smart-arsed . . .’

  ‘This way, sir, madam.’ Before Hamish could finish what he was going to say they were shown to a table.

  53

  Acting Detective Inspector Brian Scott was perched on the end of the king-size bed in his cabin as Ella knelt before him with a stick of concealer, applying it to her husband’s face.

  ‘I feel like a right tit,’ said Scott.

  ‘Don’t you move. This is a delicate task. Now the blood’s away and I’ve put some concealer on your mush, you can hardly see the bruises.’

  ‘But I’ve tae head doon tae this affair wae make-up on! Have you any idea how that feels for a man?’

  ‘Och, away, men wear make-up a’ the time noo.’

  ‘No’ where I come fae, they don’t.’

  ‘We’re in the twenty-first century, no’ the eighteenth, Brian. Anything goes, these days. And anyhow, no one will notice a thing under the lights in the ballroom. I’m mair worried you come up against that bruiser O’Rourke again.’

  ‘I was playing a part, Ella. How many times? I’m mair than a match for him, given an even playing field. I had tae convince him I was drunk, and jeest got the wrong room. Aye, and find oot what he was at, tae. He’ll no’ gie us any bother.’

  ‘It didnae look like that when you were lying on the floor near unconscious.’

  ‘I fell awkwardly, that’s all. He buggered off then – most probably regretting the whole episode.’

  ‘So, what have we to do tonight?’ Her expression turned serious. ‘Don’t go near thon sheik again, neithers. I’m surprised that Symington didnae whip you off here and boot you back doon tae constable after that carry-on. I mean, “you’ll need tae pitch your tent somewhere else”. I’ve never heard the like.’

  ‘Well, what dae I know aboot Arabs, save what I read in the comics when I was a boy?’

  ‘I don’t understand why they chose you to go undercover.’

  ‘I’ve done mair o’ that than you think.’

  She leaned back, admiring her work. ‘There, hardly a mark, and not a soul will know you’ve got a wee bit o’ make-up on.’

  ‘Gie me that hand mirror oot your bag.’

  Ella reached into the depths of her handbag and produced the mirror. ‘See for yourself, man.’

  ‘Fuck, I look like thon Boy George. I cannae go oot in public like this!’

  ‘Boy George indeed. He’s a good-looking man. You’re nothing like him.’

  ‘If my faither was alive, he’d gie me a good hiding if he saw me like this.’

  ‘If your faither was still alive he’d be doon the pub as usual, no’ giving two monkeys what you looked like.’ She licked her finger and removed a smear of concealer from his eyebrow.

  ‘That’s disgusting!’ said Scott, screwing up his face. ‘Keep the contents o’ your mooth tae yourself. I’m no’ wanting them spread across my face.’

  ‘How times change.’ She winked at him.

  ‘We’re past a’ that stuff, noo.’

  ‘Speak for yourself. Right, get your jacket on and we’ll go and observe. Though what, I do not know.’

  ‘See, that’s how you’d never make a good polis. You’ve got tae be ready tae handle any situation. I’ve had my fair share o’ surprises in this job, let me tell you.’

  ‘So have your bosses.’

  ‘Huh. I faced it all wae candour and bravery, I’ll have you know.’

  ‘Like the time when you just joined up and that poor taxi driver stopped you in Hope Street because the lassie was having a baby in the back o’ the cab?’

  ‘I was young then.’

  ‘Lost your dinner, if I remember.’

  ‘Jimmy was sick a’ o’er a tramp!’

  ‘That’s excusable. I mean, the stench o’ some o’ they poor folk.’

  ‘Oh aye, there’s always an excuse for Jimmy. You’ve always had a right soft spot for him – going right back tae the start.’

  ‘I’ve always liked the man – and so have you!’

  ‘You’ll be oot licking his face before long. Here, is that how you’ve always hated Liz, eh?’

  ‘Aye.’ Ella hung her head. ‘You’ve the right o’ it after a’ these years, too. Here’s me been hankering after big Jim Daley and you never noticed. Some detective you are.’

  Scott looked momentarily stunned.

  ‘You stupid bastard. I’ve always loved you – though only the good Lord knows why.’

  ‘You think I was bothered? I was just aboot tae get up and jump aboot for joy.’

  ‘Well, make sure you don’t smudge your make-up.’

  He smiled at her. ‘You’re a right bitch, Ella Scott.’

  ‘And you’re a hopeless bugger.’ She returned the smile. ‘C’mon, you observe while I get a glass o’ something sparkling.’

  The van carrying the team of technicians was about thirty miles out of Kinloch when the driver cursed. ‘What the bloody hell is this?’ he said, slowing the minibus to a halt. ‘Can I help you, officer?’

  ‘We’d like a look round your vehicle, sir – just a routine security check,’ said the policeman in the hi-vis jacket.

  ‘Listen, son, we’re the team that’s just fixed the electrics on the Great Britain. I suppose this roadblock is extra safety checks for the vessel, right?’

  ‘I’m not permitted to say anything about that, sir. If you pull in at the side of the road there, we’d like to take a quick look. Won’t take more than a few minutes, then you’ll be back on your way.’

  The driver turned to his passengers. ‘You all heard that, lads. Can’t be helped. We’ll soon be back on the road, and I’ll get you boys to Glasgow airport in plenty time.’

  As the minibus moved slowly towards the verge, the man at the back picked up the canvas bag from under his seat, cradling it on his lap. ‘I’ll nip out the back doors,’ he said to the driver.

  ‘Yeah, okay, mate. It’ll save you having to get past this lot. C’mon, lads. The quicker we get this shit done, the quicker we can be on our way.’ He waited as the work party exited the minibus and watched in his rear-view mirror as the man who had been seated next to them exited the vehicle.

  Two policemen gathered everyone at the front of the minibus, while another with an excited spaniel on a lead entered the vehicle.

  ‘Here, what’s this all about? I hope that bloody dog doesn’t piss all over my bus!’ The driver folded his arms and shot the policeman beside him a dirty look.

  ‘As I said, sir, it’s a spot check. You guys just drew the short straw. Right, is that everybody?’

  The driver looked along the line. ‘Yeah, that’s us. Eh, no, wait.’ No sooner had the words left his mouth than the dog in the van began to bark.

  In the fading light, a figure was making its way down through the thick bracken towards the rocky beach that bordered the sea.

  ‘What the fuck is this all about?’ said one of the men, looking bewildered.

  The officer with the dog leaned his head out of the van. ‘Quick, the dog’s picked up a trace
on the back seat.’ In seconds, two constables were wading through the high bracken in pursuit of the man who had just disappeared from view onto the beach below.

  The minibus driver scratched his cheek and looked at his remaining passengers. ‘Something tells me we might not make that flight, lads.’

  The Kinloch party were together in the gallery overlooking the ballroom on the Great Britain. Hamish was screwing his face up at the cocktail he’d just been handed, while Annie was deep in conversation with Charlie Murray. As more of the ship’s exalted guests entered the ballroom, Hamish spotted two familiar faces.

  ‘Brian, Ella, we’re o’er here!’ he called as Scott and his wife entered the room.

  ‘Shit,’ said Scott. ‘This’ll no’ do my cover any good. I’d better get o’er there and shut Hamish up. Come on, Ella, don’t dawdle.’

  ‘Steady on, man. I cannae go at a gallop wae these heels on. The last time I’d heels was at oor Betty’s wedding.’

  Scott raised his eyes and made a beeline for the Kinloch party. ‘Hamish, Annie, Charlie, how are you all, eh?’

  Charlie Murray was about to speak when Hamish interrupted him.

  ‘Can I ask you a personal question, Brian?’

  ‘Eh?’ said Scott.

  ‘I see you’ve taken tae wearing the make-up.’

  Scott glared at his wife, who’d just hobbled up to the table. ‘Noo, I want you tae listen. I’m undercover, so jeest pretend yous don’t know me and Ella, okay?’

  ‘Man, if that’s a disguise, you’re no’ on the right track at all, Brian. You look like that pop star I mind fae ages ago.’

  ‘Boy George,’ said Annie. ‘Aye, you’re the spit o’ him right enough, Brian. Are they shoes murder, Ella?’

  ‘Aye, and I’ve only come doon fae the cabin. I think I’ll need tae slip them off once we’re at oor table. We’re o’er there, near the captain, wherever he is.’

  ‘Right, yous don’t know me, or Ella. Have you got that?’ Scott stared at Hamish. ‘Where on earth did you get that tie?’

  ‘Full o’ the questions, eh? I’ll tell you aboot my tie when you tell me why you’re sneaking aboot made up like a Christmas tree, Brian Scott.’

  ‘Later. We need tae get a move on. Hurry up, Ella!’

  ‘Jeest take one o’ they shoes off an’ clonk the bastard o’er the heid wae it, Ella.’

  ‘Don’t tempt me, Annie,’ Ella called back as she was hurried away by her husband.

  ‘What’s that all about?’ said Murray, draining his cocktail.

  ‘I don’t know how you can drink that bilge,’ said Hamish. ‘Reminds me o’ the beer they serve at the Douglas Arms – pish!’

  ‘Whoot dae you think’s up wae Brian, Hamish?’ said Annie, leaning in conspiratorially to the old fisherman, better to be heard above the quintet.

  ‘Och, it’s strange whoot promotion can dae to a body. I mind when Erchie Lang got made up tae skipper o’ the Girl Nancy. Got tae be he wouldna speak tae anyone but other skippers. Damn me, he even applied for membership o’ the Gentlemen’s Club.’

  ‘Did he get in?’

  ‘Nah. You know fine that’s a place populated by doctors, teachers, businessmen and the like. And I have tae say, I never met a fisherman that smelt so much like the creatures he was after in my life. Even in a suit he smelt like a full net.’

  Annie looked sadly across the dance floor and up to the gallery where Scott and Ella were now in deep conversation with a striking woman whose diamond necklace sparkled under the lights. ‘Dae you think Brian’s turning intae a snob, Hamish?’

  ‘Och, I widna be surprised at all. There’s one thing for sure. He’d make a better snob than he does an undercover polis, that’s a fact.’

  Three decks below the ballroom, in various places amongst the engines, fuel tanks and electrical panels, five sets of numbers blinked red in the darkness.

  54

  ‘Now is the time, Mr Scally. Do as I tell you and nothing will happen. Do not, and things will end very suddenly for you. I hope you understand?’ Cabdi glared through the gloom of the old net shed.

  Scally remained on the amp, his face a picture of misery.

  ‘I will give you three seconds to muster your courage. Maybe we should have brought some whisky for you, no?’

  ‘What are you going tae be at when I create this diversion?’

  ‘That’s none of your business. Just do what you have been asked, and count yourself lucky you are not the one lying dead in the sea. That was the fate of your friend, yes? Everyone in the bar where I met you was talking about it.’

  ‘Right, I’m going!’ With a defiant look Scally got stiffly to his feet. ‘How dae you know I’ll not just go o’er there and grass you up, eh?’

  ‘Because you are a coward, the lowest kind of man – barely a man at all.’ Cabdi flashed the smile that always looked more threatening than appealing.

  The older man sighed and walked to the door. He unlocked it and pulled it open, wood scraping along the grimy concrete floor.

  ‘I will be watching you. You have fifteen minutes, then I follow. Do your job, Mr Scally, and do it well.’

  Scally closed the door behind him and stood for a few moments taking in the sounds and smells that had been familiar to him since childhood. Fishing boats bobbed at the old quay across the harbour, while the line of people awaiting transport to the Great Britain had dwindled to only a couple of dozen. Still, he could hear their excited chatter as they waited for the launch that would take them to the big party on the cruise ship.

  Overhead he watched a gull hover, wings outstretched on the light breeze. The bird was different from the gulls he normally saw in and around Kinloch. It was smaller, shorter-necked, with distinctive markings. ‘Bugger me,’ said Scally to himself. ‘The American gull.’

  The irony of it all was not lost on him as he took his first steps up the new quay and onto the promenade. He eyed the hotel in front of him. He’d enjoyed weddings, retirement parties, family dinners – various nights out – in that very place. Now – well, now he wasn’t sure if, once he had entered the building, he would ever leave.

  He thought of Cameron Pearson. First, the face of the boy he’d tormented at school came to mind, then the youth with whom he’d gone for a few pints while chasing girls to the music of Bill Haley, Elvis Presley and countless others. The small coffee bar that had been their haunt was now long gone, as was the large cinema, built during the war to entertain locals and the thousands of servicemen and women who made Kinloch their temporary home. So much gone now – a different town in so many ways.

  Then he recalled the last time he’d seen Cameron Pearson’s face, and everything seemed to fade away. All he could hear was the sound of his own footsteps, the rasp of his breath and the pounding of his heart as he neared the King’s Hotel.

  Daley picked up his mobile and called Symington again – still no reply. He decided that she either had her phone on silent, or had left it in the County Hotel. He supposed that what he’d discovered wasn’t that urgent, but certainly worth looking into. All the same, his instincts told him that he had to do something.

  Reckoning that his boss must be on the Great Britain by now, he dialled the switchboard number Sergeant Shaw had given him. The call was answered quickly. Daley announced himself as the local chief inspector and who he was looking for. He was left to listen to the patriotic hold music while the operator tried to locate Symington. As the last bars of ‘Land Of Hope And Glory’ faded, the man on the other end of the line came back.

  ‘DCI Daley, I’m afraid Chief Superintendent Symington hasn’t yet arrived on board. She’s expected soon, though. Will I have her call you when she gets here?’

  ‘Yes, please,’ replied Daley. He considered asking for Brachen, but reasoned that the arrogant Royal Navy Commander would probably scoff at his findings. ‘Can I speak with Captain Banks?’

  This time the reply was instant. ‘Again, sorry, sir. Captain Banks is meeting guests on the quaysi
de before coming back to the ship.’

  ‘Right, I see. Don’t worry, but please tell the Chief Superintendent that I’m on my mobile if she’d like to ring me when she gets a chance.’

  Daley clicked off the call and thought for a few moments. If Symington wasn’t yet on the Great Britain she might just be still ashore, not on a launch. He looked down at James junior who was playing with a toy car on the rug by the television. ‘Right, James, we’re going for a wee run in the car, son.’

  ‘Yay!’ said the little boy as Daley fetched his coat from the hall. ‘Where are we going, Daddy?’

  ‘I just need a quick word with someone. Then we can go to the shop and maybe get an ice cream.’ He smiled at his son, who was shrugging on his jacket. For a second, he reminded Daley of his own father, who’d put on his jackets in exactly the same way. Only when he donned his own coat did he realise that he too shrugged himself into the garment in exactly that fashion. The thought, this insignificant connection, almost made him cry. But he smiled to himself as he hauled James into his arms. He could have raised the alarm, sent a blue light to find Symington, but he knew how sensitive anything to do with the Great Britain was, and what he had found couldn’t really condemn in any specific way. It just wasn’t what he’d expected, and that, for some reason, had raised his hackles. To be honest, Daley wasn’t even sure that his mind was working properly. Maybe the drama of the last few days had affected him more than he’d thought.

  But, not being a man comfortable with sitting around waiting for things to happen, he made his way down the front steps of his house, his son in his arms. He strapped the child into the back seat of the SUV, got behind the wheel, and was soon heading down the steep hill and into Kinloch in search of Carrie Symington.

  *

  Scally crossed the road at the roundabout, doing his best to ignore the last guests awaiting transport to the Great Britain as they threaded their way towards the pontoons.

  He hesitated under the canopy of the King’s Hotel before entering. There were two bars in the establishment, a large bar where guests could eat as well as drink, and a smaller, more intimate cocktail lounge. He took a deep breath and opened the door to the bar.