Grievous Angel bs-21

by Quintin Jardine

  ‘Let’s see what Mia says to Stevie; she might have the answer.’

  Fifteen

  If Alex was taken aback, in the light of our morning phone conversation, to find Alison in the car when I picked her up from Daisy’s, she made a brilliant job of hiding it. I felt ashamed of myself for putting her in that position, and deeply embarrassed that she should have seen me as a two-timing SoB. I had a flash of her later in life and knew what I’d do to someone who’d treated her as I had Alison. I made a mental note that I’d have to apologise to her, first chance I had. I made a second note to come clean with Alison too, but that moment would have to be chosen very carefully.

  I tried to block my indiscretion from my mind as we settled in for the evening. Alison had gone out at lunchtime and bought herself a jumpsuit and fresh stuff for next day. I changed, so did Alex, and the three of us slopped around, looking for all the world like the nice wee domestic unit that we’d sworn not to become.

  While my daughter went off to take care of her homework and, no doubt, to catch up on Airburst FM while she was at it, I started the evening meal, a starter of anchovies on tomato bread, Spanish style, followed by fried chicken, with steamed green vegetables. Alison stood in the kitchen, watching me at work, and sipping white wine. She was still talking shop. I tried to put her off, but she persisted. ‘What happened,’ she mused aloud, ‘to make these three men victims? There must have been something, something serious. Could they have been dealing drugs?’

  ‘It’s possible,’ I conceded. ‘But how? Look at their jobs. A bus mechanic, a DIY shop assistant and a man who spends six weeks at a time out on the North Sea. None of those occupations are conducive to that business. Plus, if they were dealing, chances are at least one of them would have shown up on our radar on the drugs squad. Have you checked Weir and McCann for criminal convictions?’

  ‘Automatically; McCann was clean, Weir was arrested at a Hibs Rangers game six years ago and done for breach of the peace. In other words, next to nothing. Maybe Telfer will throw up something, but he’s got the sort of job that probably requires a degree of vetting, so I’m inclined to doubt that.’

  ‘Let’s put drugs to one side then,’ I said. ‘What else?’

  She emptied her glass and went to refill it from the bottle on the work surface. ‘No idea, but whatever it is,’ she ventured, ‘it may have happened within a fairly small window. Yes, it could be anything, a long-held grudge, but the only point of contact among them that we know about was two weeks ago…’ she looked at the wall clock, ‘.. . almost exactly two weeks ago, when Redpath met McCann and Telfer in the Guildford Arms, two days before Telfer said he was due back on the oil platform. So it’s possible we’re looking for something that happened within that period.’

  ‘Then let’s look,’ I told her, ‘wherever we can.’

  ‘What would you do?’

  ‘Well, if Telfer was off the pitch from Friday… I’d look at our own incident reports, for anything happening that Wednesday and Thursday that’s still open, and see if I could find a line of inquiry.’

  ‘Look where? Division by division?’

  ‘You shouldn’t have to: us department heads report everything important to the head of CID. Alf’s exec should be able to show you everything within that time frame, and you can take it from there.’

  My kitchen masterpieces were ready at seven thirty. Alex had just served the starters… one cooked, the other dished it up, that was our deal… when the inevitable happened. Alison’s mobile ringtone sounded. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, looking at its display. ‘It’s Mackie. I’ll tell him I’ll call him back later.’

  ‘No, don’t do that. Take it now, it’s all right. You can catch up.’

  I listened to her half of the discussion: ‘Damn it! Never mind. You did? Excellent. Does he indeed? Thanks, see you tomorrow.’ She ended the call, and turned to her anchovies and tomato bread.

  ‘Well?’ I asked.

  ‘It’ll keep. I’ll tell you when we’ve eaten.’

  ‘ Pas devant les enfants? ’ my daughter murmured.

  Alison blinked. ‘Pardon?’

  I frowned. ‘She’s showing off her French. “Not in front of the children?” is what she’s saying. Yes, kid, exactly so.’

  ‘I’ll eat in my room if you like,’ Alex snapped.

  ‘If that’s your choice,’ I told her sternly.

  She glared at me, picked up her plate and stalked out of the room.

  ‘What the hell is up with her?’ I exclaimed, as the door slammed.

  ‘Given her age,’ Alison replied, quietly, ‘I could think of a couple of things, but the fact that she’s just lost her grandpa, her late mother’s father, might have quite a lot to do with it.’

  Yet again, I felt like Shit of the Week. I excused myself and followed Alex upstairs. Her bedroom door was closed; I knocked on it. ‘Go away!’ she yelled.

  ‘Don’t pour water on a drowning man, baby,’ I called to her. ‘I’m here to say sorry. Can I come in?’

  I waited for a few seconds, until I heard, ‘If you must.’ I stepped inside. She was sitting on her bed; the starter was on her desk, untouched. She looked up at me; her eyes were moist. ‘What are you doing, Dad?’

  ‘Making a complete buttock of myself, by falling out with the girl I love more than anyone else in the world.’ I sat beside her and put an arm round her shoulders. ‘I really am sorry, kid. I might be this great detective, but sometimes I don’t have a clue what’s going on inside my own head. I put you on the spot tonight without thinking about it. I’m an idiot.’

  ‘No you’re not. You’re just like me. Grandpa’s died, and now you can’t stop thinking about Mum and you’re hiding from it. Mia’s not right for you, Pops.’

  ‘I know that,’ I told her. ‘Maybe Alison isn’t either, but she’s good for me, and that’s a start.’

  ‘Then we shouldn’t leave her down there on her own any longer, or she might go.’

  I let her lead the way downstairs and followed her into the dining room. Our guest was still there, but most of her starter wasn’t. ‘I’m sorry, Ali,’ I told her. ‘Our little domestic is over. She can speak whatever bloody language she likes from now on.’ I leaned over and kissed her: in front of the child, a first.

  ‘I might as well tell you now,’ she said cheerfully, ‘while you two catch up.’ I nodded, with a chunk of bread and anchovy in my hand.

  ‘In order,’ she continued, ‘those three names meant nothing to our potential witness. However, Brian did find that same photocopy in McCann’s room. Also, Stevie traced our Mr Telfer. He lives in Newhaven, he’s a single man like Weir and McCann, he does subscribe to that magazine, by mail order, he works for Shell Exploration, and he is currently on one of their platforms in the Brent field, north-east of Shetland, where he’s scheduled to remain until the end of June.’

  ‘That’s good,’ I said. ‘It means he can’t do a runner when we go to interview him, unless he’s some swimmer. Do you like helicopters?’ I asked. ‘Personally, I do not, but we can’t wait for him to come onshore.’

  ‘I’ve never been on one,’ she admitted, ‘but needs must. I wonder if they have newspapers delivered out there.’

  I caught on. ‘And if he knows about his two pals? If he does, he might be very pleased to see us.’

  ‘Can’t he come to you?’ Alex chipped in.

  ‘He’s only a witness,’ I explained, ‘not a suspect. We’ve got no cause to haul him off his platform if he doesn’t want to come.’

  Because of the hiatus, the chicken was a little stringy and the vegetables were too steamed, but I was the only one who complained, and since it was my fault anyway, tough on me.

  When we were finished and the dishwasher was stacked, Alex went off to her room to watch a TV serial she’d been following, or maybe she was simply being discreet.

  ‘Want some music?’ I asked.

  ‘Mmm.’

  I dug out an Elvis Costello hits CD and put it on. Th
e first track was called ‘Alison’. I’ve still got the CD, but I never play that song any more, even though it’s still my favourite by either Elvis. Aileen did once, last year, and I had to explain why there were tears in my eyes.

  I sat in my armchair and my Alison sat on me, folded in my lap. She wasn’t wearing shoes. I took her foot in my hand, and began to massage it, very gently. ‘Saw this movie with Myra,’ I murmured, ‘when we were both about eighteen. It was called Stay Hungry. It’s best known today for being one of Arnie Schwarzenegger’s first, but there’s a scene in it where Jeff Bridges and Sally Field are sitting on a staircase and he takes her foot, just like this, and starts talking to her about what a wonderful piece of architecture it is, and…’ I kissed her, ‘… it goes on from there. I wish I could remember the dialogue.’

  ‘You’re doing all right ad-libbing,’ she purred, then gasped as I reached the soft area at the back of her toes. ‘It obviously made a big impression on you.’

  ‘And on Myra. She slipped her shoe off, right there in the cinema, and planked her foot in my lap.’

  ‘We must see if we can find it on video.’ She put her head on my shoulder. ‘What do I give you, Bob?’

  It took me a couple of minutes to find what I hoped were the right words. ‘Peace, companionship and good, friendly sex.’

  ‘Friendly? How about great?’

  ‘That too, but friendly’s just as important. You set your expectations there, so that when you get to great it’s all the greater.’

  She laughed, softly. ‘You talk some real mince sometimes.’

  ‘I know. I’m more of an action man. So? What do I give you?’

  ‘You make me feel… not alone. You make me feel good about myself. You give me… as much as a girl could reasonably hope for. But…’

  ‘Yeah, there’s always a but.’

  ‘But…’ she continued, ‘there’s still a part of you that’s locked away, a part of you that I’ll never reach. The woman who does. .. she’ll see me off, for she’ll be the one for you. For now, though, there’s one other thing you make me feel and that’s happy. Take it as it comes?’

  I nodded. The night before was the past, boxed up, and it could stay there, among my other dark secrets. ‘Deal. We take it as it comes.’

  Next morning Alex was up first; we were under no pressure, for we had a call to make on the way into Edinburgh. I waited until the commuter traffic had tailed off before we left. We had talked no shop all morning, but as we passed through Aberlady, Alison raised something that had been on my mind. ‘With everything that’s happening in this investigation,’ she said, ‘I hope we’re all right for sailing this weekend.’

  ‘Me too,’ I confessed. ‘I’ve got two of them on the go, remember; twice the risk. Thornie’s funeral is sacrosanct. Whatever happens, we will be there. For the rest, we keep our fingers crossed.’

  ‘But if I have to go offshore to interview this man Telfer…’

  ‘It’s not just you, it’s the two of us; we’re both going. But I reckon he’ll keep till Monday. Have someone contact the platform operator… Shell, wasn’t it… and make arrangements for us to fly out then. Telfer doesn’t need to know we’re coming either.’

  ‘But don’t all the platform communications go through him?’ she pointed out.

  ‘If they do, and Shell play ball, we’ll spin him a line. We can tell him it’s an equipment inspection.’

  ‘That sounds okay.’ She paused. ‘But Bob, if something else comes up, there’s no need for me to be at the funeral.’

  ‘I’d like you to be there, come what may.’

  ‘Are you sure about that?’ she asked. ‘We’ll have to leave our whereabouts with the office. Won’t it be a bit like putting a notice about you and me on the bulletin board?’

  ‘I’ve already told Fred Leggat where I’ll be going, but you could always tell your troops you’re taking personal time, and leave it at that. That wouldn’t be a lie.’

  ‘Brian Mackie knows us both. He’ll figure it out for sure.’

  I laughed. ‘Ali, I don’t care. When we get into town I’m going to drop you right at the front door of your office, and kiss you farewell. I’m done with furtive. We are as we are.’

  We drove on, joining the A1 dual carriageway and heading towards Edinburgh. We were caught up in a short tailback, at the end, but we left it when we took the roundabout outlet that led to the B amp;Q store. Given the time of the morning, the place was a customer-free zone. There was a customer service point just inside the entrance. Alison approached the woman on duty; they had a brief conversation and I saw her show her warrant card, before the loudspeakers boomed, ‘Robert Wyllie to customer desk, please. Robert Wyllie to customer desk.’

  Staff discipline must have been good, for only seconds passed before I saw him appear at the far end of an aisle. He saw me too, and stopped in his tracks. I shook my head, smiled and beckoned him on.

  ‘What now?’ he sighed, as he approached. ‘You folk never let go. What are you going to charge me with this time?’

  ‘Nothing,’ said Alison, affably. ‘Another couple of questions, Mr Wyllie, that’s all.’

  ‘About what?’

  ‘That would be whom. Do you know, or know of, a man called Donald Telfer?’

  He frowned, but only for a second. ‘Aye,’ he exclaimed, as if he was pleased to come up with an answer we’d like. ‘He’s a pal of Archie’s. They were at the school thegither.’

  ‘Ever met him?’

  ‘Once or twice. He’s no around all that much; he works on the rigs.’

  ‘What sort of a man is he?’

  ‘A clever bastard.’ Wyllie’s summation was instant. ‘He’s got a good job there, on the technical side, he told me. Likes a drink, though. They’re no’ allowed any when they’re away, but he makes up for it when he comes back.’

  ‘Is he aggressive on it?’ I asked.

  ‘No, he’s different. He gets quiet and gets a nasty look about him.’

  Alison took over again. ‘We want to ask you about a couple of days during the week before last. The Wednesday and the Thursday. Can you remember what Archie Weir was up to on those days?’

  He nodded vigorously. It seemed that impending prosecution had turned him into the world’s most cooperative witness. ‘Oh aye. We were here as usual on the Wednesday. I mind, ’cos that’s our old folks’ discount day. The place is always heavin’ wi’ pensioners. I asked Archie if he fancied a pint after work, but he said no, that he was meeting Telf, and another bloke from their old school, ’cos Telf was back off tae the rig at the weekend.’ I thought he was finished, but he wasn’t. ‘They must have got well hammered,’ he continued, ‘for Archie called in sick the next morning, and he was off all day.’

  ‘Are you certain?’

  ‘Absolutely,’ he assured her. ‘Will that help?’

  ‘We’ll know in due course,’ she replied.

  ‘I meant, will it help me?’

  ‘If it helps us make an arrest,’ I intervened. ‘We’ll need you as a witness, so you’ll be off the hook. Fair enough?’

  ‘Aye,’ he said. I’d just dealt him a ‘stay out of jail’ card, and he knew it.

  Alison thanked him and we left him to get on with his day. ‘Well,’ she exclaimed. ‘That was worth doing.’

  ‘Too right it was. Next step being-’

  ‘You don’t need to tell me,’ she admonished me. ‘As soon as I get to the office, I’ll check with the bus garage and find out whether McCann turned up for work that Thursday. And that photocopy; it still interests me.’

  ‘Mia told Steele she couldn’t remember the names,’ I reminded her. ‘And the article doesn’t necessarily connect. The likeliest explanation is that it was Telfer showing his pals how well their old schoolmate was doing, no more than that.’

  ‘Granted,’ she said as I drove off. ‘Okay, I’ll have someone check on McCann’s whereabouts. Mind you, if he did turn up for work bright as a button…’

&nb
sp; ‘I know,’ I sighed. ‘If Telfer was a suspect we could bring him to us, otherwise it means we’re still on that fucking helicopter.’

  ‘Come on, Braveheart,’ she chuckled. ‘They can’t be that bad.’

  ‘They are. Nasty smelly things and most of their pilots go deaf in later life. Please God let us find something reported on those days that fits the three of them.’

  ‘Eh,’ Alison ventured. ‘How do I approach DCS Stein for this information?’

  ‘I find that on your knees usually works. But happily, you don’t have to go that far. He has a bright-eyed, wet-eared assistant, DC Dorothy Shannon, a friendly girl, from what I’ve heard. She gets the reports, and she’s your point of contact. Mention my name, and she’ll give you what there is.’

  ‘As long as she hasn’t been friendly to you,’ she murmured.

  ‘I only go for inspectors and above; offers of friendship from the lower ranks are rejected.’

  I dropped her at the front door of her office and set her on her way with the promised kiss. It was witnessed by PC Charlie Johnston, who was many things but not a divulger of information unless it suited his purpose of the moment.

  When I walked into the Serious Crimes Unit, the four guys were at their desks. Leggat, Adam and Martin were all heads down, but Mario McGuire jumped to his feet as soon as I entered. I flagged him to follow me into my room. ‘You have the look of a boy with an apple for the teacher,’ I declared as I hung my jacket on the back of my chair. ‘Peel it for me,’ I said as I sat.

  ‘I think I’ve got a name, boss. That useless airport rep spent an hour airside before she got round to calling me, but finally she did, about half an hour ago. Tony Manson had an aisle seat, and the passenger sitting next to him was a bloke called Hamilton. But in seat D… he was in C… there was a woman called Alafair Drysalter, Mrs.’

  ‘That’s not the most common name in Edinburgh,’ I remarked. ‘In fact, I can only think of one.’

  ‘That’s right, boss. Derek Drysalter, the Hibs player. I’ve already checked with the council department that keeps the voters’ roll. There’s only one Drysalter household in Edinburgh. Derek and his wife, Alafair.’