Grievous Angel bs-21

by Quintin Jardine

  I was grateful when the undertaker announced that we should go. There were two limos for six passengers… Thornie had a vehicle all to himself… so there was plenty of space. Jean offered Alex a seat in hers, as a close blood relative, but she chose to stay with me. The pace was indeed funereal, but the drivers were experts and we arrived at exactly the right time.

  The service took half the time that the drive had. Psalm twenty-three, prayer, hymn, prayer ending in Lord’s Prayer (the Scottish version where we forgive debtors and our debts are forgiven too; that’ll be right!), eulogy, committal, benediction. All crematoria seem to operate to the same tight timetable, but at least the place was full of Thornton’s enduring friends, the minister knew all about him and wasn’t reading from a script provided by the family, and oh, as I was reminded, those Lanarkshire Proddies sure can sing. I didn’t join them; I only do that when I’ve had a couple of drinks and I know that somebody’s listening. Alison did, though; I hadn’t realised that she had such a nice contralto voice.

  When it was all over, and Jean and I had shaken hands with the departing mourners at the door… I couldn’t let her do that on her own, and Lowell was too new on the scene… we moved on to a hotel in Bothwell, a place that must make a small fortune from the proximity of the crematorium, for more salmon sandwiches, more Bristol Cream, stories about the departed and the laughter that always comes from the release of tension. It unsettled Alex; I could see that either she was going to cry or she’d let someone have both barrels, so I took her into a corner and explained that one day she’d be doing exactly the same herself, probably after seeing me off.

  Jean saw us and came across to join us. I left them to their aunt-niece chat and walked across to the corner that Alison and Lowell Payne had commandeered. I shook hands with the sergeant properly. It had been perfunctory at Thornie’s place. ‘Good to meet you,’ I said. ‘How’s Strathclyde taking to its new chief?’

  ‘Mr Govan? He’s way above my head, and I’m a long way from Pitt Street, thank heaven, but from what I hear he’s shaking things up.’

  ‘I’d expect no less,’ I agreed. ‘He lectured at a course I was on at Tulliallan; not a man to sugar the pill.’

  ‘I’ve heard much the same about you.’

  I smiled. ‘I didn’t know I was being watched.’

  ‘We take an interest in you through here, since you’re one of us. Ever think about coming back?’ he asked.

  ‘Not once. Not once in fourteen years.’ In fact, John Govan had sounded me out, after his lecture, to see if I’d consider a move to Glasgow, but I’d declined, politely, as it pays to be with the most powerful police officer in the land.

  ‘Shoe the other foot,’ I continued. ‘Have you ever considered a move east?’

  ‘Yes,’ he admitted, ‘but Jean wouldn’t like it, and what she wants she can have as far as I’m concerned.’

  On the basis of my background check and our brief acquaintance, I’d have found him a slot, but I decided not to pursue it. ‘How’s Hamilton?’ I asked him. ‘When I was a boy, the River Clyde was like the Berlin Wall, dividing it and Motherwell. The twain never met.’

  He smiled. ‘It’s okay. There’s worse places to be… Motherwell, for example.’

  ‘It wasn’t always like that. There was a working-class morality about when the steel industry was at its height.’

  ‘Yes, but with the Protestant jackboot on the neck of the Catholic minority, through its old police force.’

  I couldn’t argue; he knew the local history of my home town. He was an interesting guy, and forthright with it. I could see why he hadn’t been earmarked for higher rank. ‘Those were the days,’ I said to Alison. ‘I’m glad I missed them.’ I looked back at Lowell. ‘You’ll be a Hamilton boy, then?’

  He nodded. ‘Born and bred.’

  ‘Big place, I know,’ I ventured, ‘but have you ever heard of a family called McGrew?’

  ‘Sure, as in Alafair. She was a budding actress, and good at her personal PR from an early age. Her name was always cropping up in the Hamilton Advertiser, for winning awards at the Athenaeum, or getting a bit part in Take the High Road.’

  ‘What’s the Athenaeum?’ Alison asked.

  ‘Royal College of Music and Drama in Glasgow,’ I told her. ‘Some very well-known people came out of there.’

  ‘Alafair hasn’t come up to Ian Richardson’s level, though,’ Lowell added. ‘I haven’t seen much about her lately.’

  ‘Career change. She married a footballer.’ I almost added, ‘And started playing away games,’ but decided to hold that back. ‘But he plays for Hibs,’ I went on, ‘hence her absence from the Advertiser, and from the telly.’

  Sergeant Payne was sharp. ‘It wouldn’t be the guy Drysalter, would it?’

  ‘It would indeed.’

  ‘The hit and run victim?’

  ‘The same. Someone hit him, several times, with a baseball bat, and ran away… but that information stays within our domestic group, Lowell, okay?’

  ‘Sure, sir, Bob… whatever.’

  Alison laughed. ‘I have the same trouble, sometimes.’

  ‘Which she’s getting over,’ I said. ‘I’ll be calling her “Ma’am” soon.’

  ‘You will this weekend. On board my brother’s boat I’m the first mate and you’re a deckhand.’

  ‘Shit, I thought you were the stewardess.’ I looked at my watch. ‘Speaking of which, we should be making a move. We’d better collect Alex and say our goodbyes. You know what happens at these things, Lowell, don’t you? Bets are laid on who’s going up the chimney next?’

  He nodded towards Uncle Moffat, who was holding a large whisky in two small hands. ‘There won’t be too many takers,’ he muttered.

  ‘Thornie said the same thing about him after Myra’s funeral, but the old boy’s seen him off.’

  We shook hands for a third time, as Alison went to rescue Alex from the great-aunts. ‘Do me a small favour if you can. See if you can pick up any local knowledge about Alafair’s family background.’ I took a card from the ever-present stash in my breast pocket and slipped it to him. ‘Just for fun. I’d like to know how she became the girl she is.’

  The last leg of the journey was much less sombre than the first two. Alex promoted Alison to the front passenger seat, so that she could retreat into the back and listen to the Spice Girls and others on her CD Walkman.

  ‘Well,’ I began as I negotiated the complex interchange that led to the motorway network, ‘what did you think of that crew?’

  ‘What do they think of me,’ Alison countered, ‘that’s the question.’

  ‘Don’t let that worry you for one second. You and Jean seemed to get on fine and that’s all that matters.’

  ‘She seemed all right. Was Myra like her?’

  ‘Not much. Jean’s much more reserved than she was. She’s coming out of it now, though, having rectified her mistake.’

  ‘What mistake?’

  ‘Her first husband. Prick.’ She laughed. ‘Don’t,’ I said. ‘That description was generous. But you’re right about Jean and me, we’ve always got on.’ I didn’t see any need to tell her how well we’d got on at one time. ‘The great-aunts, though, they’ve never been close to us. They didn’t approve of Myra. They thought she was “flighty”, a fine old Lanarkshire word for a girl with a bit of personality. She was that all right. As for old Moffat, he may be doolally now, but even when he had his wits about him he was an old cunt, pardon my French.’ I glanced in the mirror, but Alex was isolated by her headphones and couldn’t have overheard. ‘You can tell at funerals, those who’ve come along out of respect and those who’re there with an eye on the will. Those who were can forget it. Thornton changed his will after Myra died; he discussed it with me because he felt I should know. Before then everything was to be split equally between his two daughters; afterwards, Alex replaced her mother as a fifty per cent beneficiary. It’ll be a tidy amount too; she and I will need to discuss how it should be invested
. If the aunts had known that they wouldn’t have looked in her direction.’

  ‘You can choose your friends,’ Alison began to quote, ‘but…’

  ‘… not your family,’ I concluded. ‘Thornie didn’t believe that, though,’ I told her. ‘He always said that the best of friends were those who chose you, and as you saw by the turnout today, a lot of people chose him, and very wisely too. The old aunts,’ I continued, ‘they didn’t approve of me either so we never saw any of her family when Myra was alive, apart from the odd cousin who fancied a day at the seaside.’

  ‘What did they have against you, for God’s sake?’ she laughed.

  ‘My mother was an alcoholic. When Myra and I got engaged, there was a family party and my mum got pished at it. The aunts, as you’ve seen, are real prissy old tight-arses, so we were off their Christmas card list before we were even on it. They’d have been afraid of my father anyway; they regarded lawyers as a class apart. Not Thornie, though; he and my old man were always perfectly civil to each other and they even played a bit of golf together, a big deal, although my father was far too aloof for them ever to become close.’

  ‘You’re bitter about your family, Bob,’ she ventured.

  ‘No, I’m not. I’m sad about them. Mostly I’m sad for Alex, because I think it’s a shame that she can’t sit at a big table every Christmas with a dozen so people that are her own kith and kin.’

  She reached out and stroked my forearm. ‘You may find that Jean and Sergeant Payne start filling that table quite soon. He seems… smitten; an old-fashioned word but it works, and she seems suited.’

  ‘Yeah, he’s a good guy. I like him. I hope they do settle down. They make a nice couple and Jean’ll be a good mother.’ I winked at her. ‘You do realise they’re probably saying much the same about us right now,’ I added.

  ‘As long as they don’t build their hopes up. They want family, we want careers, and I’m about as broody as a stone.’

  ‘But are you happy?’ I asked.

  ‘With my life? Yes, I told you so. It’s exactly as I’d like it. Two weeks ago I thought you’d lost interest in me, and I wasn’t too chuffed about that. You’ve shown me I was wrong, and I’m happy about that. I’m looking forward to spending time with you and Alex, but I want to keep her at a certain distance so she doesn’t ever start to think of me as a mother figure.’

  ‘And me? What do you want from me?’

  She frowned. ‘Of you I ask one thing alone. When you are lonely in the dark of night, and when I stop being the one you call first, don’t call me at all. Give that promise to me, and I will give the same to you.’

  I reached across, took her hand, and squeezed it. ‘You’ve got it.’

  Eden Higgins and his son Rory were on board and waiting for us when we arrived at Inverkip Marina. The boat was impressive. It was called Palacio de Ginebra, a name that amused me, looked to be about forty feet long and had a couple of masts, with booms and other stuff, like lots of rope that was going to need pulling, and sails rolled up and ready for unfurling, or whatever it was you did with them.

  The furniture tycoon looked as if he spent more time at sea than he did in his showrooms. He was lean and weather-beaten and the muscle on his arms was well defined. His hair was frizzy, dark streaked with grey. He wore faded jeans and a T-shirt that proclaimed his love of New York.

  ‘Good to meet you, Bob, and you, Alex.’ His greeting was relaxed, and it spoke volumes. I wasn’t the first male crew member that his sister had brought along for the voyage, although probably the first one with a teenage daughter in tow.

  There was a table on what Alison told me was the afterdeck, with a jug of Sangria, a large bottle of Coca-Cola and four glasses. ‘The Coke was intended for the kids,’ he said as he started to pour, ‘but looking at Alex, she might prefer the other.’

  ‘That would depend on what’s in it, Eden.’ Sangria comes in many forms, some of them highly alcoholic, and we were on a boat called the Gin Palace.

  ‘It’s safe, I promise,’ he replied. ‘Red wine only and that’s pretty diluted.’

  ‘In that case, it’ll be Alex’s choice. But can we change first?’

  ‘Of course. Alison will show you where you’re bunked.’

  I’d been expecting something akin to a railway sleeping compartment, but I had underestimated Eden’s taste and his wealth. The vessel was beautifully fitted out below decks, with a dayroom, a galley, and three cabins. The largest of those was ours and I didn’t need to be told that, normally, it was the captain’s.

  We went casual, and rejoined our host. Alex opted for Sangria. It didn’t surprise me since I’d been allowing her that occasional taste since the previous summer. I let her get on with it, even though the base was red, since it was well watered. Rory was a nice kid, he looked a little bit like his aunt, but with some features that owed nothing to the Higgins side of the family. It was evident from the start that he was in awe of my daughter.

  When the jug was empty, Alison announced that she was going below to cook, and told the cabin boy that he would be helping. Alex would have stayed with us, but I tipped her a very discreet wink; she read the message and followed.

  The evening was calm and warm. I’d checked the weekend weather forecast and, to my relief, it had promised fair. Once we were alone, Eden pulled a couple of beers from a small built-in fridge, popped the tops and handed one to me. Suddenly I realised how Lowell Payne must have felt at the funeral.

  ‘Cut to the chase, Eden,’ I said.

  His dark eyebrows rose and he smiled. ‘Whatever do you mean, sir?’

  ‘You know well enough. Let’s skip the opening pleasantries and get straight to what you’re bound to ask me sooner or later.’

  He had a booming laugh. ‘You didn’t major in subtlety at Glasgow, did you, Bob?’

  ‘I can do it when I have to, but I prefer the cards dealt face up. It makes the game a whole lot easier.’

  ‘True. I wish there were people like you in business. That’s my environment, you see, you keep your hand well hidden. Okay, to it; can I expect to be calling you brother one day?’

  ‘No,’ I replied, looking him in the eye. ‘Now that we’ve sized each other up for a while, Alison and I are in the early stages of what’s looking like being a very comfortable relationship, one that suits us both. We have a shared outlook on life, we have shared ambitions, and we are very fond of each other. But you should know your sister well enough to realise that if she’s offered a choice between marriage and a chief constable’s silver braid, then you may phone the tailor and commission the uniform. I’m the same.’

  ‘You’re a man, though,’ he countered, ‘in a masculine world. You don’t have to make that choice. I’ll bet there isn’t one chief in Scotland who’s a single man.’

  ‘You’d lose. Two of them are divorced, due largely to the pressures that the job placed on their marriages while they were on the way up, as I am now, as Alison is now. There would be twice the stress if we were man and wife, or even a full-time couple. There is a level of commitment between us, my daughter is happy with the way things are, and that’s enough for all of us.’ I looked away for a second, then caught his gaze again. ‘And there’s this. I’ve lowered one wife into her grave already, I relive it every day, and I have a great resistance to ever repeating the experience for real.’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Have you had this conversation with Alison?’ I asked.

  ‘Are you kidding?’ he replied. ‘Am I carrying my balls in a brown paper bag? But you understand, don’t you, why I feel that I have to clear the air with you?’

  ‘Sure, and I don’t have a problem with it. She’s your sister, for a start, and you care about her. On top of that you’re a very wealthy man, and you need to be sure that she’s not attracting pot-hunters. For the record, I’m nowhere near your level, but I’m not poor.’ I paused. ‘But what the hell am I talking about?’ I laughed. ‘You know all that, for you’ve had me checked out.
I knew that as soon as you told me what university I went to, for I don’t believe I’ve ever mentioned it to Alison, only that I’m a graduate. You probably know how much I inherited from my father, and where it’s invested. You probably know the value of various insurance policies and death-in-employment benefits that were paid out when Myra was killed. You might even know how much I have in my bank accounts. Am I right?’

  He flinched, and I saw him flush beneath the tan.

  ‘Eden,’ I told him, ‘it’s all right. I don’t mind. I’ve just done much the same thing with my sister-in-law’s new boyfriend, and I have access to resources that you don’t. But… I need to know this.. . did your people find out anything else about me, and my family background?’

  He nodded. ‘Yes,’ he admitted. ‘They discovered that you have a brother named Michael, who lives in a charitable institution not that far from here, supported by a small trust fund administered on his behalf by a firm of solicitors in Glasgow.’

  ‘Then your investigators have been too good for their own good. Alison knows nothing of Michael’s existence. Even my daughter isn’t aware that she has an uncle. We might have been born to the same parents, but that man has been dead to me for the last twenty years, as he was to them. Until right now, I had no clear idea of where he was, and I still don’t want you to tell me his exact location. I hate him, more than it’s safe for me to hate another human being.’

  ‘Christ, Bob,’ he muttered, ‘I had no idea.’

  ‘Why should you? But now that you do, I need you to promise me two things, that you’ll shred every copy of the report your people gave you, and that you’ll make sure they do the same. While you’re at it, tell them from me that they should forget they ever heard of Michael, for if anyone else ever mentions him to me in the future, my first thought is going to be that it came from them. It’ll take me about two minutes to find out who they are, and not much longer for me to put them out of business.’