Greg Jay's looking for him as well. We don't want to duplicate effort, so . . .' She let the rest of her question hang in the air.
'He's yours, Maggie,' the head ofCID answered at once. 'You picked the bal up, so you run with it. I'l brief Jay in the morning. Do you need anything from me, other than that decision?'
'I don't think so, but if I do, I'l give you a shout, don't worry.'
'What do you plan to do, then?'
'Ask around the major life offices, first thing in the morning; that's top priority. But I'm also going to find out as much as I can about Essary, starting at the General Register Office.'
'Good idea,' Pringle muttered. 'Do we go public on this?' he added, almost to himself.
'Please no, Clan,' said Rose, quickly. 'The real Essary is stil out there, thinking he's got away with it. I've already got Strathclyde to agree not to release the news that Father Green's been traced. I need him to think that he's in the clear.'
'Okay, you play it that way. But don't be surprised if he's no' just in the clear, but in the bloody Bahamas by now.'
'Are you going to be able to talk to me about your new job?' she asked.
Neil Mcllhenney propped himself on an elbow and looked down at her, then reached under the duvet and pinched himself on the right buttock, hard enough to make himself wince.
'What are you doing?' she asked again, amused.
'Making sure I'm awake,' he answered, 'and that I really am in bed with Louise Bankier, actress. I'm surprised you've never caught me at it before.'
'You're in bed with your wife, my darling. What my day job used to be is irrelevant. It's yours that matters now.'
'Not to the kids, it isn't. Have you any idea how many Brownie points they've picked up at school since you and I got hitched? Lauren's become a sort of icon among her pals, and as for Spencer .. . I've told that wee bugger that if I ever catch him selling your autograph again, I'll ground him for a year.'
He reached over and flicked a strand of hair away from her eye.
'Anyway, you're not completely out of your day job. They haven't even finished the edit of your Edinburgh movie, and there'll be the premieres and al that other stuff.'
'Well, the kids will love that too. But once it's over, I'm out of the business, for at least five years. That's what I promised you and I wil stick to it.'
'It's a promise I never asked you to make.'
'I know. That's what makes it all the more important to me. I'm your wife, Neil; and I've never been so happy in any role, honestly.' She looked him in the eye. 'Remember what I said about me having a baby?'
He gasped. 'You're not, are you?'
'No . .. not as far as I know, anyway. However I have been to see a specialist, up at the Murrayfield Hospital, and she assured me that, physical y, everything's fine and that there's no reason why I can't. We know you're in good working order .. . you've just proved that... so ...'
He laughed. 'I'll keep my efforts up, so to speak. But remember, it's pot luck at the end of the day.'
246
'I know. Look at Maggie and Mario. How long have they been married now?'
His expression changed. 'Ah, but that isn't a matter of luck . . . well, maybe it is, but it's bad luck on Mario's part. Randy big sod that he is, he's unfortunate in that respect. Don't tell him I told you, though.'
'As if I would! It's bad luck for Maggie too, though. I know she maintains her career-woman image, but the truth is, I think she'd like to have a baby.'
'She tel you that?'
'Not exactly; it's just a feeling I have. But don't you mention it to her.'
'Of course not.' He ran a finger round the edge of one of her big brown nipples. 'Speaking of keeping secrets, I know this sounds a bit sil y in this day and age, but when you're doing the publicity interviews and stuff for the new movie, if any joumo asks you about me, and about what I do, tel them I'm a copper, that's fine, but don't get specific, okay? I mean I wil talk to you about my job, but it is a bit sensitive, and I wouldn't hold it long if it was mentioned in Hello magazine and the like.'
'I understand. I promise, my angel; you wil remain a man of mystery as far as my public is concerned.' She gave a shiver under his touch.
'Hey,' she murmured, 'do that some more. I'm approaching peak fertility just now, you know.'
Neil moved closer to her. 'I'l have to see what I can do, then.'
He was about to show her, when the bedside phone rang. 'McGuire,'
she heard him growl as he picked it up. 'This is just like the old days when you were single and used to phone me at al bloody hours.'
'Perish the thought,' his friend answered. 'I'm sorry, pal ... and say sorry to Lou as well ... but this is important, and I didn't want to cal you about it from home.'
In the background Neil could hear soft music. 'Where the hell are you,then?'
'I'm at Paula's. We'd some business to discuss.'
'You just watch it there, son. I remember her from the old days, as well.'
'Aye, but we're grown up now, though. Listen now; you got a pen handy?'
'As always.'
'Right, get it; because there's some stuff I need checked out on the QT, and I can't do it myself without making waves. It's the sort of thing that's best handled through your office, not mine. I need chapter and verse and I need it damn quick.'
Bob Skinner sat in the waiting room of the place that morticians, or undertakers, around the English-speaking world describe discreetly as the chapel of rest; the showroom for their skills, as he thought of it. He had seen his parents-in-law in death, and although he knew that they would look vastly different when presented to their daughter, he did not wish to repeat the experience.
He had been in similar places before in his life; for his parents, for his maternal grandmother, who had died when he was twenty-two, and for Myra, his first wife, whose death in a speeding car had haunted him for almost twenty years, to a point at which it had become the catalyst for his brief separation from Sarah.
No, he had sworn, and he had meant it. The next time he would be in another of those soft-lit, well-ventilated rooms, the serene, made-up face in the white-lined coffin would be his own.
He sat alone with his grim thoughts for twenty minutes; for most of that time he pondered the chain that he and Doherty had uncovered, connecting the four men who had met a few months before in Altoona,
Pennsylvania, and who had al died violent deaths. If the FBI hackers had indeed uncovered the truth about their Service past, then, circumstantial or not, it was dynamite. And if their record of those days did exist, and said what Doherty believed, it could go nuclear. Yet Skinner was wary. He was an experienced detective, with the hunting instinct of a jungle animal, but he was in someone else's forest now, a place where the prey had sharp teeth too.
He snapped back to the present when the waiting-room door opened.
Sarah's freshened make-up just failed to hide the blotches around her eyes, but she was composed. 'Okay?' he asked.
'Okay,' she replied.
They walked through to the reception area of the funeral home, where Mr Poe, the splendidly named mortician, was waiting for them. He handed Sarah a white envelope. 'That is a note of the timings which we agreed for the funeral service and for the burial. The hearse and your 248
limo will call at your residence at ten after ten precisely on Friday morning.'
'We'll be ready,' said Skinner.
'I'm sure, sir. There is one change of which I have to advise you. The senator's office just cal ed me to express her profound regret that she and her husband will not be able to attend after all. There's a confirmation hearing that may come to a vote on Friday, and it's essential that she be there. He feels that it would not be appropriate for him to come alone.'
'That's a pity'
'Yes it is, sir. However, if I may say so, it may be a blessing in disguise; I once officiated at a funeral where President Nixon was a mourner, and the requirements of the Secret Service left
me in no doubt as to who was real y in charge of proceedings. It's unfortunate for you, though, in that it denies you the opportunity of meeting our former president.'
'I've met him,' Bob told him, casual y.
Mr Poe was lost for words ... for a micro-second. 'Ah,' he exclaimed.
'In that case ...'
Sarah kept her face straight until they were outside, in the car park, where her smile escaped. 'That was wicked. The poor man was only being an American; you could have gone along with him.'
'Maybe,' he replied, straight-faced. 'But I don't like politician worship, at any level. I don't like politicians, period. Anyway, it's true; I have met him. He offered me a cigar. Okay, he's got more charisma than al the Hollywood A-list put together, but he's still a politician.
'As far as I'm concerned, they should be an endangered species.'
'In this country, honey,' she said, quietly, 'they are.'
A smal shiver ran through him; he was on the brink of telling her about Doherty's discoveries, but stopped himself. Instead, he reached into his pocket and switched on his cellphone. It showed one cal unanswered. At first he thought it might be Joe, but when he checked the log he found that it was from the private handphone of Sarah's lawyer, Clyde Oakdale, interim successor to Jackson Wylie as senior partner of her father's firm.
He made the return cal , and handed the phone to Sarah, as it was put through.
'Clyde? You're working late,' he heard her say, as he opened the Jaguar with its remote, and walked towards it.
He was in the driver's seat, with the engine running, when she ended the cal and slid in, lithely, beside him. 'The meeting?' he asked.
'Yes. He wants to do it tomorrow; he says it'l take him that long to complete the audit of Dad and Mum's estate.'
'What time?'
'Five,' she answered; he heard an awkwardness in her voice. 'Bob, I know you're named as joint executor, but Clyde said that he'd like to see me alone for the formal reading. It's the way Dad wanted it, apparently.
You don't mind, do you?'
He smiled and shook his head. 'I never questioned anything Leo did when he was alive. I'm not going to start now. We'l be a bit tight for the Walkers, though. Aren't they expecting us around six?'
'Yes, but how about if you go there on your own and I'l join you once I'm finished with Clyde? You can walk to their place from here; it's only a couple of blocks.'
'Yes, I suppose I could do that.'
'That's good.' She reached over and patted his hand. 'Okay, that's al today's difficulties over. What are we going to do now?'
He grunted. 'I reckon it's about time you got some sleep. Then tomorrow, I'm going shopping.'
'Shopping?'
'Too right: I left home with a case packed for a few days in Malaysia.
I have to buy a suit that's appropriate for a funeral in Buffalo.'
250
61
'How quickly do you want this, ma'am?' Stevie Steele asked.
'Mmm?' Maggie Rose lowered her coffee mug from her lips and glanced back across the table at the recently promoted detective inspector.
'Sorry, I was away somewhere else just for a second.'
'Late night?'
'Does it show? I suppose it must; I feel bleary enough. Yes, I had to go and see Mr Pringle about this thing, and then Mario got in from Paula's at God knows when. To answer your question, Stevie, I want it to be exhaustive first, and urgent second. I've established that when this Ella Frances woman registered the death, she asked for five copies of the death certificate.
'That's more than the norm. Why would she need that many? It suggests to me not just that we're right and there was an insurance policy on Essary's life, but that there might have been more than one. So take as long as you need. She'd need at least one certificate for the undertaker, so don't stop til you've been round al the life insurers, or until you've traced four policies. Give it top priority, though; this is a key part of a murder enquiry and it's down to you.'
Steele nodded. 'Understood, ma'am. I'll get on it right away.' He stood, then paused. 'By the way, ma'am,' he asked, 'is there anything on the Viareggio case yet?'
'Nothing I want to talk about, even to you. Why do you ask?'
Suddenly, the detective, normal y confident, looked awkward. 'I thought you might know. I went out with Paula Viareggio for a while. It never got too serious; we were friends as much as anything else.'
'No,' the superintendent answered, truthfully, 'I never heard about that. Did you know Beppe?'
'Yes, I met him. Almost by accident it was; we were out for a meal and he came into the place with a couple of pals. He came over and she introduced us. He was not at his most charming, I have to say. He'd had a drink, and when Paula told him what I did, he said, in this loud voice that the whole restaurant could hear, "Oh dear, no, I'm not having another policeman in the family" ... or words to that effect. And then he said to me, a lot quieter, confidential like, "You want to watch her, son. She's an effing pimp, you know." Nice man.'
Rose nodded. 'Uncle Beppe had his faults, I'l agree. How did Paula take that?'
The inspector whistled. 'I never knew she had a temper until then.
She went dead white, and the look she gave him scared even me. There was a steak knife on the table; she picked it up and started out of her seat. I grabbed her wrist, quick, and forced her back down. I told her father it would be a good idea if he went somewhere else, and he did.
She scared him sober, I'll tell you.'
'Was that the only time you met him?'
'Yes. It was never the same after that between Paula and me. About a month later, we decided to pack it in.'
'You both decided?'
'Well, she said it first, but I didn't argue.'
'Did you know what Beppe meant by his remark?'
'No. I never asked, and she never said.'
The superintendent sighed. 'I almost wish you'd never told me that story, Stevie. But you have, so I have to ask you whether you think you have to tell it to Detective Superintendent Jay, as well.'
Steele sat back in the chair he had just vacated. 'I've been asking myself that, ma'am. That's probably why I brought up the subject; to get a bit of guidance.'
'You don't real y need it, though, do you?'
'No. I'll go to see Mr Jay today.'
'Like hell you will. You'll concentrate on our investigation; get Greg to send a couple of officers along here to take a statement from you.'
He stood once more. 'Very good, ma'am; but to tel you the truth, I don't see her having done it. There and then, maybe, but not in cold blood like that.'
'Why not?' asked Rose. 'She surprised you that night. Tell me, do you know anything about other men in Paula's life?'
Steele took a deep breath as he considered his answer. 'There weren't al that many, as far as I could tell. I remember she did say to me once that she was a one-man woman, but that there were lots of reasons why that couldn't happen. Actually, I was pretty certain that she was talking
about her brother-in-law, Stan Coia.'
After he had left the room, Maggie sat for five minutes, staring at the 252
wall. She thought about cal ing Mario, to tell him Steele's story, but decided that some news is better broken in person. Eventually, she stirred herself, looked at her private address book, picked up the telephone, and dial ed a direct line number in the General Register Office. It rang three times before a cheery voice answered. 'Glossop.'
'Jim, hello. It's Maggie Rose here. Central Division CID. Remember me?'
'Of course I do. You were in Bob Skinner's office a while back, weren't you?' The statistician's accent had originated in the north of England, and had remained untarnished by decades in Scotland.
'That's right. I wasn't sure whether you'd stil be in yours, though.'
'Hah! You just caught me: my bags are packed and I'm ready to go. I take early retirement next week.'
'Can you do me a favour for the road, then?
'
'Sure. What do you need?'
'Everything you can tell me about a man named Magnus Essary. His death, aged forty-nine, was registered in Edinburgh just over a week ago.
We have no leads to next of kin; the man's a mystery.'
'Is the body unclaimed, then?'
'No, it was claimed next day by his business partner, a woman named El a Frances. But we can't find her.' She paused. 'Jim, I'm going to tell you something that's very confidential. The death was registered as that of Magnus Essary, but it wasn't him at al . We know whose the body real y was, and it certainly wasn't his.'
'Bloody hell! The registrar general won't like that; it's a serious offence to make a false statement to a registrar.'
'It's a serious offence to kill someone, as well.'
'This man was murdered?'
'We're sure of it. But that's another problem. The body was cremated at the weekend.'
'Who signed the death certificate?'
'A locum doctor.'
'Why can't you arrest him?'
'Not for the want of trying, but he's vanished too.'
'How about the partner?'
'Her name's El a Frances, but we know even less about her. Probably she's in her twenties, but Frances could be a married name, and Ella could be short for a few things.'
'Aye,' said Jim Glossop. 'It could, couldn't it. Essary was forty-nine, you say?'
'Yes.' She spelled the surname for him.
'Leave it with me. I'll get back to you.'
'Soon, Jim, yes?'
'Too bloody right,' he laughed. 'Remember I'm retiring next week.
My first leaving do is tonight, and after that I won't be worth a stuff.'
She hung up and went back to her in-tray, cursing Manny English and Willie Haggerty for their combined roles in introducing her to the job of divisional commander of operations, yet interested, in spite of herself, in the different tasks and responsibilities which the role involved. Gradual y she became immersed in the papers before her, considering each one, delegating most tasks but taking command decisions on a few. To her surprise, she was actually annoyed when the phone rang, interrupting her.
Quintin Jardine - Skinner Skinner 12 Page 28