"You can be forgiven for thinking it, my friend; yes, even you. But
this is not me. No, this is a photograph of my father."
"Your father?"
"Sure as God made wee green apples." He looked to his left into
Martin's green eyes. "The man in the river: how old was he?"
"Bob, he'd been down there for a week and more, first in water, then
half buried in mud."
"I don't want his date of birth, son. Roughly, how old was he?"
Andy frowned, and looked out to sea. "If I have to guess, I'd say he
was mid to late fifties."
Skinner stood up, rising off the wall in a single movement. "Come on."
He was heading up the path towards Muirfield Golf Course even as he
spoke.
Taken by surprise, Martin had to break into a trot to catch up. "Do
you think you know who he is?" he asked.
"I'm coming back up to Perth with you," his long-striding friend
announced.
"Fine, but do you think you can identify him?"
"I'm bloody certain of it."
"So?"
"Let me see him first, Andy, and before the pathologist starts to hack
him about, too. After that, I'll tell you all about him."
Ten.
Rufus was asleep when Mario carried him into the house, through the
kitchen door. Maggie was waiting there; she looked him up and down.
"Couldn't you have rubbed some of that sand off at the beach," she
complained, 'instead of bringing it in here?"
He gave her a broad, innocent smile, straight from the Irish side of
his ancestry. "You should see the car," he replied cheerfully. "Don't
worry, love. I'll hoover it all up later."
"It'll be well into the carpets by then," she grumbled. "Go on, get
him ready for bed and yourself cleaned up. I'll get the vacuum out.
Has Rufus eaten?"
"Yes, we stopped in the Burger King at that Big W place."
"How about you?"
"No."
"That's good. I've got a sitter coming at seven ... unless you've got
other things to do, that is." She snorted, almost to herself. "Even
if you have, I fancy a Saturday night out. If it comes to it I'll go
on my own."
She took him by surprise, but he said nothing as he carried Rufus off.
The boy was coming back to a complaining wakefulness as he climbed the
stairs. "Come on, chum," he whispered in his ear, 'let's get tidied
up. Then you can dream about more sand castles and your sister and I
can go out to play... or eat, at least."
He turned straight into the bathroom, stood Rufus on the floor, and
took off his clothes, then stripped off his own shirt and shorts and
stepped out of his sandals. He turned on the shower above the bath and
lifted the boy in. They stood together under the warm power spray,
Rufus squealing with renewed pleasure, for he loved the water, as the
last of the sand washed off them and swirled away down the drain.
Finished, he took his to welling robe from behind the door and put it
on. Then he took a big bath towel and rubbed the child gently dry.
"Okay, pal," he said, straight faced "Bedtime?" Heavy-eyed, Rufus
smiled and nodded.
"Good boy." The child ran through to his bedroom; when Mario stepped
in afterwards he saw him taking his pyjamas from under the pillow where
they were always kept. As the big detective helped him put them on, he
felt a lump rise suddenly in his throat.
"This isn't forever, wee man," he said, quietly, as much to himself as
to Rufus. "You'll have to go and live with someone else soon." The
boy's face fell; Mario hugged him. "Don't worry, wee fella, you'll
love it; you'll have even more toys, and other kids to play with, too.
But when you do go, you'll come back and visit us every so often, won't
you?" Reassured, he smiled and nodded.
He was asleep seconds after his blond head hit the pillow. Mario
looked at him for a while, and then went through to his own room. He
selected clothes for the evening.. . brown slacks, white shirt, and a
lightly checked Daks jacket with brown leather patches at the elbow.. .
but before dressing he picked up his mobile, which he had retrieved,
with his wallet and his keys, from his shorts, and called Paula.
"Hi," she answered warmly, knowing from her telephone read-out who was
calling. "Had a nice day?"
"Been to the beach."
"En famille?"
"No, just me and Rufus. Maggie had to work. How about you? You had a
good one?"
He saw her smile, in his mind's eye. "The morning was best," she
replied, 'but the rest's been okay. I went to the shops and spent lots
of nice money. Here, there was something going on in Princes Street.
It was blocked."
"A fire," he told her, 'in an art exhibition. That's where Maggie had
to go-'
"Which one?"
"The RSA, I think."
"Oh no, I was going to take you there."
"You probably still can. I don't know how bad it was. What you doing
tonight?"
"Taking my mum to the pictures. Why? Do you want to come?"
"She'd love that. Anyway, I can't."
"Mmm." Paula was silent for a second. "What's up, love?" she asked,
eventually. "You're not having a guilt trip, are you?"
"No, I'm having none of that. It's Rufus; I think we're going to lose
him."
"Oh no," she said. "How? Why?"
"I'll tell you when I see you. What are you doing on Monday
evening?"
"From the sound of things I'm having a visitor."
"Is that okay?"
"Of course; if you'd made it any later you'd have been in trouble. Will
you want to eat?"
"That too," he replied. "See you then."
The sitter arrived just as he was slipping on his jacket, freshly
shaved and with his thick black hair as carefully brushed as he could
manage. Maggie was finishing her own preparations in what had been
their bedroom once upon a time, and so he went downstairs to let her
in.
She turned out to be a couple; PC Harold "Sauce' Haddock, a probationer
from Maggie's division, and his girlfriend, Imelda. He wondered about
the name; the girl looked pure Scottish. He guessed that either her
parents must have had an interest in Filipino politics or her mother
must have had an interest in collecting shoes.
They had sat for them before, but he still showed them into the living
room. As his did so, his wife appeared behind him, in the doorway.
"Hi, Sauce," she said brightly. He turned to look at her, and felt the
flutter that came to him occasionally when she caught him off guard.
Her red hair was shining and she was dressed in a sheath-like green
dress and a short, matching jacket. Her eyes seemed to shine too, as
she took his arm.
"You remember how everything works from the last time, don't you:
telly, DVD, music, all that stuff?"
"Yes, ma'am," the young PC nodded, holding up a slim carton. "We've
brought a film, Con Air, we'll leave it for you to watch if you like."
Imelda stayed mute; she was even more shy than her boyfriend.
"Thanks, but we've seen it. Look, Rufus is asleep upstairs, you won't
&n
bsp; have any trouble with him, because he's been at the seaside this
afternoon and he's bushed. There's drinks in the fridge and sandwiches
in cling film on the work surface. Help yourselves. We won't be late,
but you've got my mobile number if you need us."
She took Mario's arm. "Bye," she called, as she walked him to the
door. He said nothing, just gave an easy smile that he hoped would
confirm the appearance of a normal couple. He was a shade nervous
about Maggie's choice of a serving copper as a sitter, but she liked
the lad and trusted him.
She released his arm as soon as the front door closed behind them.
"Where are we going?" he asked, as they climbed into her car, which
was parked in the road, rather than in their driveway.
"I've booked a table in Kublai Khan," she replied. "I fancy something
exotic, and I reckoned Mongolian was about as way out as we could
get."
"That's okay by me." He smiled, easily, to cover the fact that he was
lying. Her CD player came on with the engine as she turned the key in
the ignition. Maggie was a major fan of Mary Chapin Carpenter; "State
of the Heart' was playing, loud. A good choice, he thought; it was
more upbeat and less sorrowful than some of her more recent stuff,
although it did include a track called "Never Had it So Good', with a
lyric that he found rather pointed in their situation. Fortunately, he
thought, they reached the restaurant just before Mary came to
"Quittin'Time'.
His private worry was eased as soon as they walked into the Leith
restaurant. The big detective had been there before, a week earlier,
with Paula: it was one of her favourites. Fortunately the maitre d'
was indeed masterful; if he recognised his guest.. . and Mario was
aware that he was not someone who was forgotten easily... he gave no
sign as he greeted them and showed them to their table.
He selected a bottle of an unusual Canadian red from the wine list, and
a bottle of still water, then glanced at the menu. "Your choice," he
said to Maggie, 'so you pick for us both."
"Let's just go for the banquet, then," she said, as the wine waiter
returned, then sat in silence as her husband approved the wine.
Once they were alone again, he looked across the table at her. The
smile had gone, and he saw that her underlying tension was working its
way back to the surface. "How was Rufus?" she asked. "Did he enjoy
the beach?"
"Does Santa Claus have a beard?" he answered. "Of course he did."
"And have you thought about it, about the situation, and that
letter?"
"Of course."
"And do you agree with me, about what we have to do?"
"He's your brother. It's your decision."
"There's no decision," she retorted, plaintively. "I've got no
choice."
His eyes dropped from hers. "I know," he murmured; he looked up again.
"Do a deal with the Chamberlains. Tell them we won't contest if they
give us visiting rights. I reckon they'll accept that, rather than
risk a court action that they could well lose."
She looked at him, gratefully.. . for reasons which he did not grasp
entirely. "I'll try."
"Good. I'll speak to Alex about finding an appropriate lawyer to act
for us."
"There may be no need," she said. "I may have met one."
She told him about her business at the Royal Scottish Academy, and her
meeting with David Candela. "His firm has a two-hundred-year-old
letterhead, and he has a simple approach to what he does. He's a dry
old stick, and I don't suppose he'll act himself, but I'm sure he'll
take us on. I'm also pretty confident he'll get the result you
want."
"We want, Mags," he interrupted. "The result we want."
"Of course;' she agreed quickly, but not quite in the right tone.
"You want rid of him, don't you: you want him to go."
"No."
"Mags, love, be honest."
She shook her head. "I just can't, Mario. I'm sorry. I've tried, but
it's too difficult for me. If I'm being really honest, when I got that
letter this morning, I said to myself "Thank God". He may be my
brother, and he may be just a child, but I can't love him. It's too
much to ask."
He looked away, across the room, and gave a huge sigh. "Of course it
is," he exclaimed, so firmly that at first she thought he was angry. "I
really am a stupid, selfish, insensitive bastard. I never asked you,
did I? I just told you that this was what we were going to do. I
never asked myself either, how you would feel bringing up your father's
son. I am so sorry, Mags," he told her. "I had it in my head that
Rufus would be the cord that would tie us together. Now I look at it
through your eyes, I
agree with you. Thank God that these people exist, and that they
appear to care for him as they do."
His eyes came back to her. "So where will it leave us, when he
goes?"
"Where do you want it to leave us?" She hesitated, then leaned
forward. "I'll ask you this straight out, just this one time. Do you
want to leave me and go and live with Paula?"
"No, I want to live with you."
"Even though I can't bear you to touch me?"
"Maybe that'll change."
"Mario, all our married life, and before, I've been as good an actress
as Louise Mcllhenney used to be. Maybe in the future, every so often,
I could get drunk enough to let you get your end away. But would you
want that?"
"I don't have to answer that, do I?"
"I hope not. So what's to keep us together?"
"I love your soul, Mags, as much as I love your body. If you had motor
neurone disease, or MS, or some other crippling thing, I wouldn't leave
you, and I wouldn't force myself on you, either. So why's this any
different?" He dazzled her with his sudden smile. "Let's give it a
name. Let's say you're suffering from chronic post-traumatic paralysis
of the pussy, and leave it at that. If there's a miracle cure, great;
if not, no matter."
Her face stayed straight, but she flashed him a quick grin with her
eyes. "Do you really mean that?"
"I really do."
"What about Paula? Let's take it as read that I know you're sleeping
with her, and I don't mind. I know what a horny bugger you are, and in
truth I'd rather you were going to her than to one of her saunas. But
does she want you to move in with her?"
"No."
"What if she did?"
"She won't, and you can take that as read too; Paulie is a truly
independent girl. Nobody could live with her, and she knows it."
"Do you love her?"
"I love her body, although not as much as yours. As for her soul, it's
too like mine for me ever to love." He glanced over her shoulder.
"Here comes the waiter. Get ready to order."
She gave him their simple order. The young man wrote, nodded and left.
As he did, she took Mario's hand in hers, if only for a second. "Okay?"
she asked.
"Okay," he replied. "Just try to believe in miracles, that's all I
ask. Do that and you never know."
/>
"I'll try, but I do know."
"We'll see. Let's talk shop. I heard a radio report about what
happened at the RSA. You got a result yet?"
She shook her head. "No. We let all the guests back into the building
and we took a lot of statements but they all say the same thing; the
painting just went up in flames .. . whoosh! Stevie and I looked at
the security videos, but there wasn't a single lead on them that we
could see. Arthur Dorward's got the debris in the lab; I'm waiting for
him to report."
"What do you reckon?"
"We have Christian fundamentalists too; from the reproduction of the
ruined picture that I saw in the exhibition catalogue, that's what I
reckon."
"And you're probably right." He paused, as the first of their dishes
was brought to their table. "Here," he continued, "I almost forgot. I
took Rufus to Gullane today, instead of North Berwick, and guess who I
saw on the beach? Bob Skinner and Andy Martin, that's who. They gave
me a body-swerve too; thought I didn't notice them, but I did. They
were doing some serious talking. I wonder what it was about?"
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