you. I'd made my choice then, and it's the same one I make now. I'm
coming home."
"Good," he murmured. He looked at her solemnly. "There's something I
know I'll ask you sooner or later, so it might as well be now. If the
Bierhoff creature hadn't seen you with your tits out, if Candy Brew had
never existed, and Neidholm was still alive, would you have told me
about what happened?"
Sarah looked back at him, unblinking. "I don't know, and that's the
truth. As for regret, I don't know about that yet either. I'll always
feel guilt that what happened between us led to his death, but not too
much, because if it hadn't been me, it could just as well have been
someone else. But regret? Ron was here, you had rejected me, like you
said. He was kind, he was good, he was gentle, he was old familiar
ground, and I
found myself wanting him. So I can't work out whether there's anything
there to regret. As for things not happening again, if you can't
promise, I won't either, not if the same circumstances arose, but I
certainly don't plan on it."
He nodded. "Fair enough. Let's pack, and get the kids ready. With
luck we can pick up Mark from school and head straight for the
airport."
He turned to leave, but she caught his arm. "Hey, I almost forgot
something. When you were out, Alex called, to see how things were. We
talked for a while, and during our conversation she said something
really weird, about your brother." A puzzled look crossed her face.
"What brother?"
"It's a long story; I'll tell you all about it over the Atlantic. How
was Alex with you, incidentally?" he asked her.
"She's been friendlier, I have to say, but at least she didn't call me
a two-timing tart, or any other choice descriptions."
"She wouldn't. She told me some truths about me, though."
For a moment all his hurt showed in his face, and she felt his pain
within her. "Bob," she said, breaking the silence. "So we're not the
golden couple the world thinks we are ... and when this comes out in
court the world's going to know it too ... but we're still pretty
formidable, and we've still got more going for us than at least eight
out of another ten. Remember that, and remember this too. There's one
thing more than anything other... more than the kids, even ... that's
taking me back to Scotland, and that's the fact that I love you."
He looked at her, and gave a long slow smile, one that she had not
seen, she realised, since the day that Seonaid had been born. "And for
the avoidance of doubt, honey," he told her, "I love you too."
"I never had any doubt," Sarah whispered. "Come on, let's get
ready."
"Yes." He bent to scoop up the baby in his arms. "By the way, do you
want to phone friend Babs before we leave?"
Sarah looked at him and snorted. "Like hell I do!"
Sixty-One.
"This must be an unusual experience for you," said Andrea.
"What do you mean?"
"Saying goodnight to your date on her doorstep, and not being invited
in."
Stevie gave her a wounded look. "Having a date's an unusual experience
for me these days."
"That'll be right; I'm not so innocent I'll believe that. Are you
disappointed that the evening ends here?"
"No. Honestly. You set the pace; I told you that and I meant it."
"In that case, let me tell you something. The pace might hot up, quite
significantly, when I stop feeling that the policeman in you is still
interviewing me about that damn fire. All night, charming as you've
been, I've had the feeling that there are still questions you want to
ask me, but don't like to, since this evening's meant to be just about
us and nothing else. You've also, if I may say so, looked remarkably
smug, as if you've just done something very clever, and can't wait to
tell me."
Steele leaned against the wall beside her front door and smiled at her.
"There's not much subtlety about me, is there? You've got two out of
three right; where you're wrong about is that I can't tell you, not yet
at any rate."
"Two out of three's not bad," Andrea conceded. "So what is it that you
want to ask me?"
"I don't need to at all, actually; I could find out from other sources,
but it would be quicker if I got it from you."
"Go ahead then."
"Okay, if you're happy. When you were in trouble, for trying to burn
down the Baptists, and you appeared in court, who acted for you?"
"A woman called Davina Chapin, of Candela and Finch; they're our
family's lawyers."
"Mmm," Steele muttered, trying to sound matter-of-fact, and succeeding.
"Thanks."
"You mean that's it?" she exclaimed. "That's all?"
"Yup," he assured her. "I promise that's the last question I will ever
ask you about this investigation. In the event that we do need to talk
to you about it again, it'll be Maggie Rose who does it. I'll be
nowhere near."
"Promise?"
"Promise. I'll declare a personal interest."
Andrea took his hand and tugged him gently off the wall. "In that
case," she said, "I'd best make an honest copper of you. Would you
like to come in?. Just for a coffee, you understand."
sixty-Two.
"I hope you're grateful," said Neil Mcllhenney, as he pushed a video
cassette across Bob Skinner's rosewood desk. "I took Thursday night
off the football to get that for you. I had to frighten Joanne Virtue
to do it as well; I wasn't very happy about that."
"You must have been impressive if you could scare big Jo. What's on
the tape?"
"A virtuoso performance, signifying the end of the career of Black
Agnes Maley. You can watch it if you like, but I wouldn't recommend
it. I'd like it back afterwards if you do; it belongs in my safe."
"Just tell me then. What have we got on her?"
"Improper use of influence in return for sexual favours," Mcllhenney
replied. "That sums it up as politely as I can."
"And Joanne Virtue helped? The Big Easy herself?"
"Yup."
"Good for her; as of now she's on the list of those to whom we owe
favours. Can we prosecute Maley?"
"Not for what's on the video. What they're doing isn't against the
law, no money's seen to change hands, and all three of them are of age.
In theory there's corruption, but we'd never make it stick. Anyway we
don't need to."
Skinner tapped the cassette box. "I take it there's another copy."
"Yes. It's in the possession of the First Minister's security
adviser."
"Jock Govan? He's laced up as tight as they come."
Mcllhenney nodded and laughed. "He was just about sick when he saw it.
I don't know whether he showed it to his boss or not, but it's had its
effect. Maley's off the list for Holyrood and her resignation as a
councillor will be tendered formally to the Lord Provost this morning.
She's gone for good, and we've got a criminal intelligence file on her
as well."
"Big Jo is safe, is she?"
"Maley's been warned off, don't worry
."
The DCC beamed. "Happy Mondays, then. Thanks a million, Neil; I never
expected a result like this when I set you on the woman." The smile
vanished, abruptly. "I never thought you'd have to get your hands so
dirty either. I know it can't have been pleasant. I won't forget
it."
"You do exactly that, boss; forget it. When it comes to favours
exchanged between you and me you're still well in credit." He picked
up the tape. "I'll take this, if you don't want to see it."
"Do that."
Mcllhenney nodded, then held out a big padded envelope, which had been
tucked under his left arm. "This was delivered to me on Friday
morning," he said, 'from your sinister pal Arrow'
Skinner took it from him. "There's nothing sinister about Adam," he
chuckled. "What you see is what gets you. Thanks again."
"No problem." The big inspector looked down at his friend, back in his
accustomed chair. "Good to see you there at last," he said. "You got
a result in the States, then?"
"The man was in court while we were still on the runway at JFK on
Friday. He'll plead to manslaughter; there'll be no trial... for which
I am profoundly grateful."
"And you and Sarah? Did you get a result there too?"
"She came back with me; let that speak for itself. I've learned a lot,
Neil, about her and about me. I'll change, or at least I'll do my
best. You've helped in that too, mate; whatever you say, if there was
ever an account between you and me it's tilted well back to you."
"You'll be at the football in North Berwick on Thursday, then?" asked
Mcllhenney.
"Count on it."
"About bloody time too; we've been a man light for weeks now." He
turned and walked out of the DCC's office. As soon as the door had
closed, Skinner picked up the package on his desk, ripped it open, and
tipped out the contents. Three documents fell on to the desk; one of
them, he saw immediately, was a note from Adam Arrow.
He had just picked it up, when his internal telephone buzzed. He
picked it up. "Jack," he said, knowing that his exec would be on the
line.
"Sir," said Detective Sergeant McGurk, briskly. "The head of CID's
been on; he's got Superintendent Rose and Inspector Steele in his
office, and he'd like to bring them along. He wants to brief you on an
investigation they've had running in your absence."
"Tell Dan to hold on for a bit, please, Jack. There's something I have
to read up on first; I'll call them when I'm ready."
He hung up and turned back to the contents of Adam Arrow's package. He
read through them slowly and carefully; once or twice he raised an
eyebrow, but for most of the time his expression remained impassive.
Finally, he finished the last of the three documents, returned them to
the Jiffy bag in which they had been delivered, and stored it in a deep
drawer in his desk. When he was finished, he picked up the phone once
more and called McGurk. "Okay, Jack," he announced, "I'm ready. Wheel
them in; you come in too; most things I hear you can hear as well."
"Very good, sir. Will you need coffee?"
"If anyone's desperate I've got a filter machine here that's rarely
empty; I'm not running a cafeteria, though."
Two minutes later, his door opened and Detective Superintendent Rose
stepped in, followed by Steele, Pringle and McGurk. Maggie had been
the DCC's exec, on her way up the ladder. He knew her well, and gave
her an appraising look as she sat on one of the sofas that he used for
informal meetings. He was pleased to see that the tension she had been
showing the last time they had met seemed to have gone; she looked
purposeful and relaxed. In contrast, Pringle looked gloomy and
preoccupied. He wondered whether it was just another of Dan's famous
Monday mornings, or if there was something more.
"Good to see you all," Skinner began, once everyone was settled
comfortably, or in McGurk's case as comfortably as anyone of his height
could on the low furniture. "It's bloody good to be back, I don't mind
telling you. Now, what have you lot been up to while I've been away?
You're going to need to start from scratch, I'm afraid. A few things
have happened to me lately; I feel more out of touch than I've ever
been in my life."
He saw Rose glance at Pringle; he caught the head of CID's brief nod
for her to proceed. "This has all built up in the last week, sir," she
said. "It began last Saturday, with a fire at an exhibition of
religious art in the Royal Scottish Academy. A picture went up, in the
middle of the opening speech by the chief sponsor, Mr. David
Candela."
"Who?" asked Skinner.
"David Candela; he's senior partner of Candela and Finch, the
lawyers."
"Mmm. Okay."
"It was clear from the start that an incendiary device had been
planted. The building was cleared, the fire services turned out en
masse, the fire was extinguished, the rest of the exhibition was
checked out and cleared, and the guests were allowed back in."
"A storm in a champagne flute," the DCC murmured.
Rose smiled. "That's what we thought. We attended, we interviewed
everyone present and we conducted a thorough investigation. This led
us to a suspect, a young woman who was present at the opening, even
though she hadn't been invited, and who'd had access to the picture
before the event. This person was an obvious suspect; last year she
was involved in an incident of attempted religious fire-raising and
underwent psychiatric treatment as a result."
"The girl Strachan?" Skinner interrupted. "Yes, I remember hearing
about the case. The treatment didn't work, then?"
"That's just the point, sir. It did. We were fed the girl; she was
meant to take the blame. Someone made a malicious call to her, told
her that God was calling her again, and that she should go to the
exhibition. Given her recent history, she just flipped."
"You pulled her in, though?"
"Yes, of course. We might have bought her as the culprit, too, but for
Stevie." She glanced at Steele and he saw a trace of a smile cross her
face. "He thought to check her phone records, and he traced the mobile
from which the call had been made."
"Good, but standard procedure nonetheless. So you had another
suspect?"
"Yes, a trainee lawyer employed by Candela and Finch. But he denied
making the call. He claimed that someone could have borrowed his phone
and used it, during an office party. We had no way of disproving that,
so we had to release him."
"Did he know the girl?"
"They were at university at the same time, but there's no evidence of
an acquaintanceship. However, when she appeared in court last year she
was represented by Dav Chapin, of Candela and Finch, so anyone in the
firm could have known of her."
"Okay, so your investigation was rubbered. Or did you have a way
forward?"
"No sir," said Rose, 'sideways. Stevie took a broader look at the
whole situation, and came up with a completely different s
cenario. As
a result we believe that the fire at the Academy had nothing to do with
protests or religion. We believe it was staged deliberately, to engage
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