‘Lucky for you that Aileen’s lot are no longer in power,’ Skinner growled, ‘or I’d have squashed that.’
Martin smiled. ‘No you wouldn’t, Bob. You and I might have fallen out big time, but you wouldn’t have let that affect your judgement. Without being big-headed, out of all the candidates for the job, I’m the best qualified, given that no currently serving chief would apply for it. We both know that, and if you’d been asked for an opinion, you’d have said so.’
The chief constable glared at him, eyes narrowed. ‘You think?’
‘I fucking well know. You might be a hard-headed, hot-tempered bastard and you might have a down on me for the rest of our lives, but I know you too well to believe that you’d ever let any of that get in the way of your integrity, or make you act against what you knew to be in the public interest.’
‘So now you want me to congratulate you?’
‘That would be nice, but no. I want you to accept that you and I aren’t on different sides of a territorial fence any longer. My remit covers the whole country. By definition most of the agency’s work is in Strathclyde, since that takes in half of Scotland, but there will be occasions when I’m active on your patch. Professionally, we have to get along.’
‘We always did professionally, chum,’ the chief constable conceded. ‘The job transcends personal issues; you don’t have to tell me that.’
‘So, is there any chance of you burying what’s between us, and being civil to each other again?’
Skinner threw back his head, and drained his bottle of formerly sparkling water in a single swallow. ‘Christ, son,’ he said, ‘we were always more than civil with each other. You were my best mate once. You were going to marry my daughter before the pair of you messed that up. And it’s Alex that’s the problem. I’m joined at the hip to my kids . . . not just to her, to the younger batch as well. If we get close again, you might get close to her. And that could be a disaster. That’s the real reason why I built the wall between you and me, that’s why I ostracised you, even after I’d cooled down from the stuff that happened six months ago: to protect my daughter, to protect your Karen as well, and maybe even to protect you. You and Alex, you need to stay apart. You’re like nuclear particles. When you collide, any fucking thing can happen. All three of us know that, and to be honest, its potential scares the crap out of me.’
‘Not just the three.’
Skinner frowned. ‘No?’
‘No, Karen knows it as well, and she’s not about to live with it; with that and quite a few other things. She’s binned me, Bob; we stayed together while the baby was on the way and to see him through the first few months, but now it’s over. As you know, my new base will be in Paisley; I’m going to move closer to it, but Karen’s not coming. She’s staying in Perth. She likes it there; she’s even talking about rejoining the police when the kids are a bit older.’
‘Aw, hell,’ Bob exclaimed, as his reserve and his recrimination dissolved. ‘Andy, I’m sorry. For both of you . . . what am I saying? . . . for all four of you.’
‘Thanks,’ Martin replied, ‘but we’ve talked it through, and we’re agreed it’s for the best. We recognise that we got together for the wrong reasons, on both sides. It’s civilised, honest.’
‘But your kids . . .’
‘They’re very young. I’ll be a good absentee dad, and it’ll be more or less what they’ve always known.’
‘Where are you going to move to?’
‘As a first step, back to Edinburgh. You’ll remember that I never sold my place in Dean Village; I kept it as an investment and rented it out. The tenants moved out a month ago, so I’m going back in there; this weekend, in fact. I’ll commute by train most of the time, and see how that goes. I might wind up stopping there. But I’ll stay away from Alex, I promise.’
‘Andy, make me no promises that you can’t keep. As the Tartan Army would put it, que sera, sera.’
He smiled. ‘Sera, indeed. That reminds me, sort of; I had an email from your ex the other day, completely out the blue.’
‘From Sarah?’
‘It would hardly be from Myra, would it?’
Bob smiled; Martin’s levity in using the name of his dead first wife reminded him of the way it had been between the two of them, before their lives had become so complicated. ‘What’s she saying to it?’ he asked.
‘Nothing, really, just hello, and that she’s looking forward to seeing me again.’
He stared. ‘Eh? Are you going to New York, with this new job on your hands?’
Martin looked back at him, blankly. ‘No, she’s coming here, in May. You didn’t know?’
‘It’s the first I’ve heard of it. What is that woman up to?’
‘Oh dear. Foot in it, sorry.’ He paused. ‘I suppose there’s something else I should get off my chest.’
‘Go on, then, clear the decks.’
‘I’ve pinched your press officer.’
Skinner beamed. ‘Is that supposed to upset me?’ he asked.
‘I thought it might.’
‘Not a bit. Alan Royston needs a move; you’ll be fine with him.’ He rose, extending his hand; they shook. ‘I have to go,’ he said. ‘Do you want me to tell Alex about this?’
‘That’s your decision. I’m not going to knock on her door; don’t worry about that.’
‘Hell, Andy, I don’t know anything any more. I’ll tell her though. Like we said, what will be, will be. I’m off; you hang about here, if you like, catch up with some old chums.’
He waved goodbye to Mary Chambers, then headed for the door. As he stepped through it, he came face to face with Maggie Steele. ‘Bob,’ she exclaimed, ‘sorry I’m late. Stephanie took a while to settle tonight.’ She smiled. ‘Have I missed much?’
Fifty-nine
George Regan willed himself not to shiver in the cold evening air; he stood as close as he could to the floodlights that had been set up, hoping to absorb a little of their energy in the form of heat. The old quarry seemed to be a magnet for mist, adding dampness to the list of his discomforts. His new old Crombie coat was hanging on a peg in the Haddington office, ornament perhaps, but certainly no use to him at that moment, and he cursed his lack of foresight, no, his idiocy, in forgetting one of the tenets of policing, that every time you went on a call, you were partly blind in that you could never be quite certain of what was waiting for you out there.
But he kept his mouth shut, his hands in his pockets and his expression as close to normal as he could manage. He had no intention of letting Lisa McDermid know what a clown he had been, Lisa wrapped up in her parka, with the furry hood that she had pulled over her head. No, he stood, impassively, watching as the fire and rescue team worked away, cutting away the roof of the Jaguar, which had been righted and sat on all four wheels, on the uneven rocky ground. They had been at it for three hours, and still the late Ken Green was jammed in his death trap as tightly as before.
Beside him McDermid sighed, her exhaled breath showing clearly as a cloud in the harsh silver light. ‘Why are we taking such care with this guy?’ she asked.
‘Because the big guy McGuire, our headquarters boss, told us to. That’s reason enough for me.’
‘Is he involved in something?’
Regan looked at her. ‘Ken Green’s sort,’ he replied, ‘are always involved in something or other, but I don’t know of anything specific.’
‘But this is an accident. I mean look at it; it’s absolutely clear what happened.’
‘Sure it is. But the head of CID hasn’t seen it, so he doesn’t know that. He’s also a detective, like you’re supposed to be, and so his job, and ours, isn’t just to determine what happened, it’s to determine what made it happen.’
‘Fine,’ she retorted. ‘Well, this is Detective Sergeant McDermid telling him that what happened was that Green was going too fast in bad light and bad road conditions and instead of zigging, he zagged; instead of taking this corner he went straight on. You came damn close to d
oing the same thing yourself.’
‘Fine,’ said the DI, ‘but don’t tell him until you can prove it, not that one.’ Finally a small shiver escaped him.
‘George,’ McDermid exclaimed, ‘you’re freezing.’
‘I’m fine,’ he insisted.
‘Like hell you are. You’ll catch your death.’
He laughed. ‘If I do you’ll be able to prove to McGuire exactly how it happened. I won’t though. I’ve been out on many a worse night than this.’
‘Maybe, but there’s no need for both of us to be here. You could go and I could get a lift back to Haddington with one of the emergency vehicles; they have to go that way. Go on, get yourself home.’
‘It’s a fucking sight colder there,’ he muttered, under his breath but not as far under as he had thought.
She looked at him. ‘Problems?’ she asked.
He nodded. ‘Jen’s not good; she’s withdrawing from life, while I’m trying to go in the opposite direction.’
Silence grew between them, until Lisa broke it. ‘Earlier on,’ she began, ‘just before we got this call, you were going to ask me out, weren’t you?’
‘Not exactly. For a drink, maybe . . .’
‘And then a Chinese, maybe, and then see how it went . . . I know how these things play out.’
‘And?’
She checked her watch. ‘With a bit of luck the Chinky in Haddington will still be open when we’re done here. But that would be it. I’m not a social worker, George, I’m not a bereavement counsellor. I’m a work colleague, plus I’m a woman, which puts me on Jen’s side. Anyway, you wouldn’t want me to shag you because I felt sorry for you, would you?’
‘Right now, I wouldn’t be so sure of that.’
‘That’s your dick thinking. Let me tell you something about me. Two years ago, my mother died of pancreatic cancer. She was a fine, big, fit woman, then she was diagnosed and she was dead in six months. My father was devastated, and he still is. He’s been through all sorts of phases; my brother and I have seen them all. First, immediately after Mum died and he was left alone, we had him drinking too much, until he realised that wouldn’t help. Then we had him spending all the hours God sent on the golf course, even though he’s no fucking use at the game and can’t stand it really. After that we had internet dating; that led him to meet a succession of randy middle-aged women, some of them married . . . I checked them out if I could . . . all of them with an eye for the main chance. Each of those encounters left him feeling a wee bit emptier, a wee bit lonelier and, as well, guilty; for he couldn’t shake the idea that he was betraying Mum.’
Regan shivered again, more fiercely than before. ‘What are you saying to me, Lisa?’ he whispered.
‘I’m saying that there is no cure for him. He tells me that he dreams about Mum, and that in those dreams she isn’t dead, she’s just away for a wee while. That’s good, George, in a way, but for the eighteen hours or so that he’s awake, she is dead, and there’s no escape from that. It’s how his life is and even though it’s unbearably sad for him, it’s how the rest of it will be. We can’t help him, my brother and me. He has to live it. It’s the same with you and Jen; that’s how it is, that’s the hand you’ve been dealt. You have to get on and play it. You say she’s withdrawing. I look at you and I see you going in the opposite direction, dressing like a wannabe fashion plate, thinking about getting across me, or any other woman in your immediate vicinity.’
‘Hey,’ he joked, weakly, ‘I really like my Crombie.’
‘It’s a disguise, George, that’s all. You’re still the same wounded man underneath.’
‘So what do we do?’
‘I told you I’m no counsellor,’ she pointed out, ‘but from what I’ve learned from watching my father, it seems to me that you simply have to face up to it and bear the unbearable pain.’
‘What’s he doing now?’
‘My dad? He paints. He does landscapes, beach scenes, and even the odd still life. He’s not bad; he sells them through a gallery. He does portraits too, but they’re not for sale. They’re always of my mum.’ She reached out and touched his cheek, feeling its cold.
‘Neither Jen nor I could paint the kitchen door,’ he said.
‘No, but I’m sure you’ll find something if you look for it. You’re better off than Dad. You’ve still got each other . . . unless you drift too far apart. Go on, man; I really can handle this scene on my own. Get yourself home.’
Regan looked at her. ‘Are you sure you’re not a social worker?’ he asked, then turned up the collar of his silk blend jacket and headed up the path that led towards his car.
Sixty
‘Mario,’ said Professor Joe Hutchinson, ‘you really must stop doing this to me. You people have sent me four bodies this week already, three of those in pretty poor condition. That was bad enough, but I managed to pick my way through all of them; indeed I venture to suggest that I’ve done a bloody good job. In the wake of that I was looking forward to putting my feet up this weekend, listening to some music, and playing with my grandchildren. I stress the word “was”, for I’ve just had a call from the manager of the mortuary telling me that you’ve dumped a fifth on me, and you want him dealt with as soon as possible. My friend, I have a fee structure which I believe is fair to both of us, but if you want me in that examination room before Monday morning, it’s going to be doubled. Not just my cost, but that of my assistant. If you’re not in a position to authorise that, you can find somebody else.’
McGuire’s smile at the pathologist’s tirade drew a quizzical look across the breakfast table from his partner Paula. ‘What’s up?’ she mouthed, but he put a finger to his lips.
‘You’re a fucking old extortionist,’ he said.
‘I’m so wounded by that ageist remark that I have a notion to make it treble time, but I’ll give you ten seconds to accept my original offer . . . unless you feel you have to seek authorisation. If that’s the case I’ll feel that my ability is being called into question and it’ll be four times.’
‘It’s a deal, Joe. Just you send me an invoice and it’ll be paid.’
‘Who’s the client?’
‘He’s a solicitor called Ken Green.’
‘I know that name.’
The chief superintendent chuckled. ‘That’s probably because his clients have sent you a few customers in your time. He was a defence brief, high profile, with one of those numbers that hoodlums commit to memory.’
‘That’s the chap. What happened to him? Disgruntled defendant catching up on release?’
‘No, he was killed in his car yesterday evening, on a back road in East Lothian, up past Haddington. It took four hours to extract him from the wreckage; from what my DS told me he was pretty bendy when they did.’
‘A road traffic accident?’ the professor shouted into his phone. ‘You’re sending me a blinking RTA on a Saturday morning?’
‘That’s what I want you to tell me, Joe. Whether he was an RTA or whether he was assisted.’
‘Have you any reason to believe that he was?’ the pathologist asked, more quietly.
‘He had a business relationship with Tomas Zaliukas, and we believe that Valdas Gerulaitis was involved in it too.’
‘I see. My day is brightening up. This one sounds like a bit of a challenge. If he was rendered as flexible as you say, it may take me a little while, but I’ll give you a provisional report as soon as I can. Keep your mobile charged and ready.’
‘Will do, Joe.’ He hung up.
‘Is that the one you didn’t want to talk about last night?’ Paula asked. ‘The thing that made us late for the disco?’ Mario nodded and reached for the slice of toast that she had buttered while he was on the phone. ‘Even I’ve heard of Ken Green,’ she said. ‘There wasn’t a week without his picture in the Evening News.’
‘They wouldn’t use the latest one, I promise you, going by what Lisa McDermid told me.’
‘Why would he have been in East Lothian? Is tha
t why you think it might be iffy?’
‘That was a consideration at first, but apparently he did have a cottage there. His secretary told us about it last night.’
‘So he would have been on his way there?’
‘I suppose he must have been.’
‘Maybe it really was an accident.’
‘Honest, love, I really hope it was. My crew are getting stretched.’
She laughed. ‘You might not get too much out of some of them today, if you have to, given the state they were in at the end of the disco. That woman Becky likes a drink; she and Ray Wilding were made for each other. It was good to see Maggie out and about too.’
‘It was,’ Mario agreed, ‘although I nearly fell over when I saw who she was talking to.’
‘The special guest star? Yes, what about that? Jack McGurk told me that when he arrived Alex Skinner walked straight out the door. Then he and her dad went and sat in a corner and had a long chat. I wonder what that was about.’
‘Andy’s new job; it’s being announced on Monday, so Maggie told me, and she got it from him. He’s going to SCDEA, to run it, in effect.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘It means that Andy’s going to be a part of our working lives again. So it’s just as well that he and the boss were talking. They hadn’t spoken for six months.’
Paula shrugged. ‘Well, they seem to have parted friends last night, according to big Jack.’ She refilled his mug from the coffee pot and looked at him across the table. ‘But as for today,’ she continued, ‘what do have you got planned for us?’
‘How about,’ he replied, ‘we get the fuck out of this city and head up to Stirling? Visit the castle, the tourist thing, do a bit of shopping, then book ourselves into Gleneagles Hotel for the night. I’m sure they’d appreciate the business.’
‘I’m for all of that,’ she declared.
‘That’s good. Let’s pack a bag. And on the way there we can call in at the police lab. There’s a banged up Jaguar that should be there by now, and I’d like to take a look at it.’
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