Gallery Whispers

  bladed knife, which he handed to Rose. Carefully the chief inspector

  slit the envelope along the top, shook out the letter within, and handed

  it to Raymond.

  As the young man went into the kitchen, Avril Weston pushed

  herself from her chair and came over to join her husband. The four

  stood silently, watching the door. Eventually, the sobbing began,

  growing louder, heart-rending. Avril started for the kitchen; at first

  Nolan held her back, but eventually he released her hand and allowed

  her to go to her stepson.

  She returned a minute later, maybe two, with the letter, which she

  handed to her husband. He held it up and began to read:

  'My lovely Ray,

  When you receive this, you'll know. Dad will have explained

  everything, and although he did not know that I was going to do

  what I've done, I know that he'll understand and that he'll support

  my decision.

  I watched you grandmother die of cancer when I was your age. It

  all but destroyed me, and I will not put you through the same

  experience. I'm not afraid of what I would have faced, and I am not

  doing this thing for me, but for you and for your father, because I

  love you both so very much.'

  84

  Nolan Weston's voice faltered for a moment, but he gathered himself

  and read on.

  'I want you to live the rest of your life for me, and to be all you can

  be for my sake. Of all the good things in my life, and there have

  been many, you and Dad have been absolutely the best.

  Live well for me.

  With all my love

  Mum'

  He looked up as he finished and saw that Ray had come back into the

  room. They embraced, father and son, as if they were welding their

  grief together. Mackie nodded towards the conservatory, and the two

  women followed him, leaving them together.

  Eventually, the two tall Westons rejoined them. 'Do you need the

  letter as well?' asked Raymond.

  'No,' said Mackie. 'Not just now anyway. I don't think for a moment

  that there'll be any prints on that other than your mum's. The envelope's

  all we need.'

  'But,' the young man demanded, 'if Mum didn't post it herself,

  then who did? Did she give it to her secretary?'

  The detectives looked at each other. Almost imperceptibly, Mackie

  nodded. 'No,' said Rose. 'We know that your mother wrote the letter

  only a few hours before she died. We believe that it was posted next

  day, by the person who helped her end her life.'

  'That's what all this is about?' Raymond Weston exclaimed.

  'Someone killed my mum?'

  Rose replied simply. 'Yes.'

  'But that's not right!' the young man shouted. 'It should have been

  me. Or Dad. Dad, why didn't you help her?'

  'Believe me son,' said Nolan, quietly. 'If she had asked me to, I

  would have. But she loved both of us too much ever to have involved

  us.'

  'Ray,' asked Mackie, briskly, 'does the name Deacey - that's

  D-E-A-C-E-Y - mean anything to you?'

  'Deacey? Never heard of him? Why? Was it him?'

  'We don't know that. We just need to find him, that's all. Professor,

  does the name mean anything to you?

  Weston dropped his eyes and shook his head. 'The third arrow, I

  guess,' he murmured, sadly, Avril's presence forgotten completely.

  85

  25

  'What the hell brought this on anyway?' Bob Skinner asked his

  daughter. 'You just turn up out of the blue. I can't remember the last

  time you wanted to go out for a run with your old man.'

  'I can't remember the last time I wanted to go for a run with

  anyone,' Alex panted. They were jogging eastward along the shore of

  the Forth estuary, away from Gullane, in the direction ofFidra Island

  which stood guard, with its lighthouse, over Yellowcraigs beach. Bob

  was taking it easy, but still maintaining a respectable pace, making

  her work to keep up.

  'I've let myself get really out of shape,' she gasped, 'since I started

  with the firm. From now on, I'm going to do more of this, and go to

  the gym twice a week instead of once a month. You're twice my age,

  and twice as fit.'

  'Christ, you'll be joining the girls' rugby team next.'

  'No fear, Pops. Bad for the boobs, I've always thought.'

  He stopped abruptly, beneath the isolated house which was the

  only sign of civilisation along that stretch of coastline. 'Why is it,' he

  said, breathing only slightly hard, 'that people always seems to pussyfoot

  around these days when they want to tell me something? Am I

  that much of a bear? Come on, kid. Out with it.'

  'What do you mean?' gasped Alex.

  'I mean that you could have done three laps ofHolyrood Park just

  to burn off energy. You didn't need to come down here. You're working

  up to telling me something. Let me guess: it's about you and Andy.'

  She looked up at him, screwing up her eyes against the watery

  winter sun. 'Has he been talking?'

  'We did have a chat, but it didn't amount to much. I told him that

  Sarah and I wouldn't get involved. So I'm right, then.'

  Alex shifted her footing on the shingle on which they stood, and

  gazed across the calm water towards the Fidra light. 'Yes, you're

  right. I'm moving out this afternoon.'

  'Bugger.' He frowned, his mouth tightening. 'What is it about our

  family these days, that we can never manage to all be happy at the

  same time?'

  86

  'Look, Pops,' she said, in an attempt at reassurance, 'it's not that

  bad. We're not breaking off the engagement; just stopping living

  together for a while. It'll do us good in the long run.'

  'Maybe it will; and maybe I should even be pleased. I can still be

  old-fashioned from time to time; the concept of living together before

  marriage is not one I was brought up to believe in. Nonetheless, in my

  experience when you take one step back in a relationship, it's very

  difficult not to take another; before you know it there's a gap which

  can be very difficult to close.'

  'We'll be all right,' Alex insisted. 'We just need some breathing

  space, that's all.'

  'No, my lovely daughter,' he said firmly, 'that's not true. Andy

  doesn't need breathing space; you do. So don't go pinning the blame

  on him; not in that way anyway. Right now, you're finding this

  relationship stifling - okay, maybe that's his fault - but you're the one

  who's making all the decisions.'

  'Do you think I'm right?'

  'That's irrelevant, because I'd support you even if I thought you

  were wrong.'

  'No it's not. It's important to me. Do you think I'm right?'

  'As it happens, I do. Secretly, when you got engaged, then moved

  in with Andy, I thought that you were giving away too much of your

  life too soon. Now that you've decided to claim at least some of it

  back, I can only be pleased - not that I want you to tell Andy that,

  mind.'

  'Why didn't you say?'

  'I said plenty when your relationship began, remember, and caused

  mayhem. For a while, I lost my daughter and my best friend. I don't
>
  want that to happen again. Anyway, you're a big girl now; you've got

  the right to make your own mistakes. And, hopefully, to learn from

  them.'

  He smiled, suddenly, his face lighting up. 'Now,' he said, giving her

  sweat-slicked pony-tail a quick tug, 'you're going to learn the folly of

  buggering up my Saturday morning. We're nowhere near halfway

  through this run, so let's get back to it ... and at a decent pace too.

  You want to get fit, kid? Okay, just follow me and find out what it

  takes.'

  87

  26

  'You want some time off, Andy?'

  'You think I need it?'

  'I don't know, pal. But if you feel you do, I'll accommodate you.'

  Andy Martin smiled across the chief constable's low table. 'With

  all that we've got on our plate at the moment, you're offering me

  leave? Bob, what you're really doing is asking whether I can keep my

  eye on the ball, with Alex moving out and all. Given the example of

  Neil Mcllhenney, I'd be no man at all if I couldn't. Anyway, I respect

  what she's doing, and our long-term plans haven't changed; she's still

  wearing the ring.

  'Now, can we get on with our Monday briefing, as usual?'

  Skinner nodded. He was in uniform, in preparation for a meeting

  of the police board, and shifted uncomfortably in his seat as he sipped

  his coffee. 'Okay, let's do that. What do I need to know?'

  'The main item is the Weston investigation. The son received a

  letter from his mother on Saturday morning. It was posted in

  Edinburgh on the day after her death.'

  'Was it indeed? Prints?'

  'Covered in them: at least five different thumbs, for a start. Some

  of them will be Post Office staff, and one is Gaynor's.'

  'Are you trying to trace the postmen, to eliminate them?'

  Martin shook his head. 'No. Their union hates that; they'd probably

  strike if we suggested printing them all. Anyway, it's not necessary;

  when we find the person we're after, and his dabs match one on the

  envelope, that's fine, it'll be another piece of evidence. If they don't'

  'It could help the defence,' Skinner suggested.

  'True, but I'm not going to start sweating about it till we catch the

  man.'

  'Could Mrs Weston have given the letter to anyone else to post for

  her? Have we established whether she had any visitors during the

  day?'

  'As far as we can. Joan Ball, her neighbour, looked in on her in the

  morning. Then, in the afternoon, she made a few phone calls to her

  office. With hindsight, it's clear she was putting her affairs in order.

  88

  However there's no evidence that she had any visitors other than Miss

  Ball, and the person who helped her die. So it's unlikely that she gave

  the letter to someone else to post.'

  Martin paused. 'However, all that aside, we've got a new name to

  go on. Maggie and Steele found it on her computer diary. A man,

  called Deacey.'

  'What are they doing to trace him?'

  'The usual. Step one: check whether he's known to us. He isn't;

  according to our intelligence unit there are no Deaceys - first or

  second name - known to the police in Scotland. Step two: look up the

  telephone directory. They've done that already, and come up empty.

  No "Deacey" listed in Edinburgh, the Lothians, Greater Glasgow, Fife

  or Tayside. So this morning they'll check with the Department of

  Social Security, the Registrar General, the Passport Office and the

  Driving Licence Agency.'

  'Is he a serious contender, d'you think?'

  'Right now, Bob, he's our only contender.'

  'Well, let's just find him and hope. I'd really like to get a clear-up

  on this one. Too many unresolved possibilities if we don't; too many

  whispers, too many fingers left pointing, at Professor Weston, or at

  his son.'

  'Fine, but just how much of our resources do we commit to this?'

  'As much as is necessary. We cannot be seen to have backed off

  from this investigation in any way, whatever our personal feelings

  might be.' Skinner paused. 'For what it's worth, my very private belief

  is that, given her circumstances, Mrs Weston had every moral right to

  do what she did, and if she needed someone to help her, so be it.'

  'Would you apply that belief to Olive Mcllhenney?' asked Martin,

  solemnly.

  'You know about that?'

  'Yes. Brian called me on Saturday. He had it from Maggie, via

  Mario.'

  'Well, God forbid that it should come to that, but if it does, then

  yes, I believe that Olive should be able to choose her moment... and

  that Neil should be free to be part of it, should he choose. What about

  you?'

  The Head ofCID took a sip from his cup, and slowly replaced it in

  its saucer. 'I had this conversation last week with Mackie,' he began,

  'in a roundabout way, but mostly I hid my views behind the law then.

  The fact is ...

  'Bob, as you know, I was brought up as a Catholic. As I've grown

  older, I've come to differ with my Church on a number of issues.

  For example, no bloody celibate is going to dictate to me about

  89

  contraception or about interpersonal relationships. However the one

  thing that's ingrained in me is my belief in the sanctity of life.'

  Skinner's eyebrows rose. 'Even after all these years, you surprise

  me, Andy,' he said, quietly. 'Especially given the things that you've

  had to do in this job. I don't have to remind you of them.'

  'How could I forget? That once I had the choice between killing

  someone or letting you die. Afterwards, when I had done it, I discussed

  it with my confessor and I was absolved. The priest agreed with my

  choice. But that wasn't enough for me. I went to confession in four

  more churches, and in three of those I was absolved again. The fourth

  priest, an Irishman and old by the sound of him, told me that what had

  been about to happen was God's will and that I had committed a

  mortal sin. He refused me absolution.

  'Right there in the box, through the grille, I told him to go and fuck

  himself. I haven't been to Church from that day; I suppose I have to

  recognise that I've withdrawn from it. And yet its teachings still will

  not allow me to accept that life is something that we can switch off as

  a matter of course. Look at it this way. If a state will not take the life

  of a murderer, how can it sanction the killing of the innocent?'

  'I take that point,' Skinner conceded, 'and I'll think hard on it. But

  to come back to you. Given your belief, how can you bring yourself to

  carry a firearm on duty?'

  'Because I accept that there are circumstances when a gun can be

  used to preserve life - yours, for example. But I can never be

  dispassionate about it, like you and Brian, say.'

  The big DCC grunted. 'Huh. I can't speak for Mackie, but there's

  nothing dispassionate about me, Andy. When I've had to shoot people

  they've bloody deserved it, and I've been positive about it.

  'Take this Hawkins man, for example. When he's traced, he'll be

  arrested if he doesn't offer resistance. Depending on who ca
tches

  him, he might be delivered to the CIA, but somewhere along the line,

  someone will put a bullet behind his ear and the South African press

  will be told that a well-known local businessman has been killed in a

  car crash or whatever. That's the way this one will be played out, make

  no mistake. If that troubles your conscience, maybe you'd better have

  no more to do with the search for the man. If you'd prefer it I'll take

  you out of the chain of command altogether.'

  Martin shifted in his seat once more and grunted. 'No, don't do

  that. This man's a fucking head-hunter, for God's sake, and he could

  be after our Head of Government. My responsibility is to the innocent,

  and I'll fulfil it. I've already made that choice, remember, even if that

  old Irish bastard did damn me to Hell for it!

  'So what's the latest on the Hawkins front?' he asked.

  90

  Skinner glanced at his watch. 'Mcllhenney should be ready to

  report by now. Let's call him in.' He reached across to the console on

  his desk and pressed a button. Less than a minute later the side door

  of the office opened and the bulky sergeant stepped into the room,

  carrying a thick folder. To Martin, he seemed tired and drawn. There

  was none of the usual joviality in his eyes; in its place, the chief

  superintendent saw a steely determination.

  'Sit down, big fella,' said the DCC. 'Want a coffee?'

  Mcllhenney laid his folder on the low table. 'No thanks, boss. I've

  decided to cut that out. I went to the doctor on Saturday morning and

  had myself checked out. The last thing we need right now is for

  anything to be wrong with me.'

  'There isn't, though?'

  'Naw. He just told me to give up coffee and lose a few pounds. I've

  to get more exercise, he said, but the fact is I've lost five pounds in the

  last week without doing a bloody thing.'

  'How's Olive doing?' asked Skinner.

  'She's fantastic. She told the kids last night that she had a wee

  problem, and she'd be off work for a while, but that it was nothing to

  worry about. Incidentally, boss, I talked to her about your offer to

  look after Lauren and Spencer next weekend. It's very kind of you and

  Sarah, and we'd like to take you up on it.'

  'That's good. When does the treatment begin?'

  'She goes in on Wednesday afternoon for assessment, then they

  begin on Thursday. She gets out about five on Friday.'