She paused. ‘We all know that Jackie Charles is a criminal. Yet he’s never been caught, and is only associated with crime through whispers from touts that we’ve never been able to corroborate or present in evidence. People like Jackie Charles, if they were straight, would make great personnel directors. They know people, inside and out. They have the same skill as the most senior police officers in recognising strengths and weaknesses, and they take precautions to ensure that those strengths or weaknesses never become threats.
‘There was a gangleader arrested in France a couple of years back. They reckoned that he had ordered at least fifty murders of associates simply as a precaution.’
She paused and looked at Donaldson. ‘Go on,’ said the Superintendent, fascinated.
‘I’ve studied Charles. He is a very shrewd, ruthless man. He told us that Medina was suspected of stealing from him, and that the only thing he did about it was to sack him. That alone tells me that he regarded Medina as a nonentity. I don’t believe the story about the industrial tribunal; not for one second. Jackie simply threw that in for effect.
‘He thought that Medina was just a pipsqueak, stupid enough to try to steal a few quid from him. If he had thought that he was the sort who would set fire to even a single car out of revenge, then Medina wouldn’t have been sacked, he’d have fallen off a high building, or would have been a hit-and-run victim.
‘Jackie threw us that name as a bone, to set us on a false trail, while he starts his own investigation. We can warn all we like, but we won’t put him off pursuing his wife’s killer.’
‘Unless he did it himself?’ mused Donaldson, aloud.
‘Yes,’ said Rose, ‘we have to keep our minds open to that possibility. We’ve had no information that Charles has ever personally harmed anyone, but he has caused it. His closest associate, other than Carole, is, as we know, one Douglas Terry, the same man who was a suspect in the Indico payroll robbery. He went to work for Charles a couple of years afterwards and they’ve been as thick as thieves . . . now there’s a simile for you . . . ever since.
‘Terry’s official job is general manager of the betting shops and taxi businesses. But we know that he is the middleman into the loansharking and that, in every respect, he’s Jackie Charles’ fixer. His name and Jackie’s are linked inextricably.
‘Okay, we know that Charles was at Ibrox. But if he had wanted Carole dead for any reason he’d have told Terry, and Dougie would have seen that it was taken care of, specifically while Jackie was in a very public place.’
She looked across at Martin. ‘What do you think, sir? You saw Charles.’
The Chief Superintendent shook his head, slowly. ‘We can’t discount the possibility, but I don’t believe it. Neither does the Boss. When we gave him the news that Carole was probably dead in the fire, he was genuinely stunned, and he wasn’t acting. The second time we saw him, he’d worked out what had happened, and guessed that he’d been the target. He was quietly incandescent.
‘So, Maggie. Any thoughts on priorities?’
She nodded her red head. ‘Yes. One, trace Carl Medina and bring him in for questioning.
‘Two, go through the books of the car dealership for anything that might point us in the direction of someone with a grudge. Unlikely, I admit. I don’t think that Jackie’s legitimate business will give us any leads, but it has to be done.
‘Three, interview all of Charles’ known close associates, beginning with Douglas Terry, to see if we can pick up the slightest hint of anyone from whom Jackie might have been under threat.
‘Four, start pulling in the loansharks, at random. Lean on them until they cough up names of their biggest debtors, just to make us leave them alone.
‘Fifth, start pulling in his taxi drivers, off the street, to see what they might have heard. While we have them, check their driving licences, insurance situation, criminal background, everything else. If we find anything to show the person to be an unsuitable or illegal driver, we can go back to the court to have that particular licence removed.
‘Sixth, start interviewing the other taxi owners. Look for special grudges against Charles, and look for any hint that some of them might have got together to put a stop to his extortion.
‘Seventh, pull in every known gangleader in Edinburgh. Not just because we have an opportunity to make a nuisance of ourselves, but to see if any of them have heard anything from outside Edinburgh, about Charles being in trouble.
‘Eighth, using Special Branch, explore the criminal intelligence network throughout the UK to see whether that throws up any leads.’ She paused and looked at her colleagues, from one to the other.
‘That should be enough to go on with.’
Andy Martin leaned forward across his desk. He smiled in admiration yet again of Rose’s thoroughness. ‘I agree with all of those, Maggie, and I see the theme that runs through them. This isn’t just a murder investigation. It’s an opportunity at the very least to interfere with Jackie Charles’ illegal business interests, and at the maximum, to make it too risky or difficult for him to carry on with them.
‘So let’s pursue all of those lines of investigation. Use what manpower you need, but report to me at every stage. Neil McIlhenney and Sammy Pye, from my personal staff, are at your disposal too.
‘The first thing to do is find Carl Medina. The second is to get into the books of Charles’ legit businesses.’
He paused, and took a deep breath. ‘But the third . . . and this is another priority . . . is try to find his other records. Jackie’s criminal business is too extensive for it to have been conducted all in his head, or in Carole’s, or in Douglas Terry’s. Somewhere there have to be records, maybe bank books and evidence of cash deposits and movements.
‘We’ve worked for years in the belief that if we could find the nerve centre of his other business we’d have Charles by the balls. Twice in recent years we’ve had tips that there were books kept in properties belonging to his companies.’
Martin frowned. ‘In each case when we got our search warrant and got in there we found unfurnished apartments and empty safes. It was as if they had known we were coming. I want you to listen out for more whispers in the course of this investigation. We might be in luck next time.’
He paused. ‘The big complication in this investigation is the husband of the victim. You’re right, Mags. The DCC can warn all he likes. He could even take the guy into a small, dark room for half an hour. But it wouldn’t make any difference.
‘Jackie Charles will be after the man who killed his wife. He will run his own investigation alongside ours. If we can’t stop him, we might as well make what use of him we can. So from this time on, keep an eye on him, and on Douglas Terry.
‘You never know where the two of them might lead us.’
He stood up. ‘I’ve asked our press office to call a media briefing for one o’clock.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘That’s in five minutes.
‘Royston’s line has been melting all morning, but I told him to hold fire until the Boss and I had seen Charles and I was ready to make a statement in person.
‘Let’s go to meet the press, and start a few hares running.’
9
‘Your four o’clock appointment is here, sir.’ Ruth’s tone over the intercom was neutrally formal. It was the one which she used on the odd occasion on which the DCC summoned an errant officer for a reprimand.
‘God. I hope she’s told the woman what this is about,’ he thought to himself, fearing that she had not.
His supposition was all but confirmed a few seconds later when the door opened and Sergeant Masters entered briskly, in a sharply pressed uniform. She stood stiffly in front of his desk and saluted, looking nervous, her eyes unnaturally narrow. Her hair had grown since he had seen her last, and she had struggled to fit it inside her cap.
Skinner smiled broadly as he rose to his feet, returning her salute clumsily. ‘At ease, please, Sergeant. Take a seat.
‘What is it?’ he
asked. ‘Don’t you like CID?’
The expressive eyes widened. She shook her head at first, then nodded. ‘No, sir, I mean, of course I do, sir. I mean . . . oh God.’
He smiled again, moving from behind his desk, to the low leather chairs which surrounded his coffee table. ‘I’m sorry if I’ve confused you or embarrassed you,’ he said. ‘Come on and sit over here, and calm down, this is nothing to be nervous about.
‘I didn’t go into detail when I asked Ruth to make the appointment, but I should at least have made it clear that I didn’t expect you to come in uniform. You’re not on parade here, so take off that damn silly hat.’
Sergeant Masters sat where he indicated, arranging herself neatly, and tugging her uniform skirt down to cover her knees. She removed her cap and shook out her hair. ‘Then may I ask, sir, why am I here?’
Skinner nodded. ‘Of course, and we’ll get to that, but let’s have a chat first. It’s Polly, isn’t it?’
To his surprise, she hesitated, ‘Well, sir, that’s what they call me at the station, and it appears on my record. It’s a nickname I picked up at school, and it’s followed me ever since. Actually, I was christened Pamela. That’s what my parents call me and that’s what I prefer . . . if I’m given the choice, that is.’
He grinned. There was something about her style which set him at ease, at the same time as he was trying to unbend her. There was nothing pretentious about her. Her expression was open and honest, and her voice was clear, with no trace of a Sunday accent. ‘Fair enough,’ he said. ‘I understand, although I’m the opposite, myself. Anyone calls me Robert, other than my nearest and dearest, my hackles start to rise. Pamela it shall be.’
He looked at her, appraisingly, for a few seconds. ‘Do you remember, Pamela, that outrageously loaded question that I asked you at your Promotion Board?’
She smiled, for the first time since she entered the room. ‘Oh yes, sir. I worried for ages afterwards in case you thought that my answer was just trite interview bullshit.’
Involuntarily, as if she had drawn it from him, Skinner smiled back. ‘And was it?’
She shook her head vigorously, serious again. ‘Oh no. I asked myself the same question over and over again, before I left my marketing job . . . incidentally sir, it was a top-of-the-range Sierra, not a Cavalier. If I hadn’t believed my answer then, I’d be a director of the consultancy now; driving a Scorpio, probably.’
‘And earning more than me, no doubt,’ he said. ‘You’ve had six months in CID since we met last, six months with the duties of rank as well as its privileges, such as they are. Is your view still the same?’
Her head cocked to the side as she thought about his question. ‘Basically yes, sir. I think it’s a bit less simplistic now, less idealistic. I’m coming to understand that helping people live better lives can sometimes mean locking them up for thirty years. But I think that my reasons for being in the job are still positive.’
‘You’ve come to it,’ he hesitated, ‘. . . forgive me . . . later than most. Can I ask you, has that limited your career ambitions?’
‘I don’t know that I have defined career ambitions, as such, sir. I’ve never thought in those terms.’
‘Well, think about them now, Pamela. Take your time, while I pour us some coffee. Sugar?’ She shook her head as he stood up.
A minute later he resumed his seat, placing a white cup and saucer before her. ‘Well?’
‘Okay. My career ambition, sir? I would like to be promoted to the limit of my competence, not one grade above it.’
‘Like too many people you have observed in the police force?’ he asked, with a grin.
‘No, sir,’ she said, quickly, but not too quickly. ‘Not too many in the force, but quite a few in other places. When eventually I retire, I would like to think that I have made a positive contribution all through my career, and not got in the way at the latter end.’
‘Fair enough. Now can I ask you, indelicately, about your private ambitions. You’re divorced. Why?’
‘David was involved with someone else. I left him and moved to Edinburgh.’
‘Are you in a relationship at the moment?’
‘No, I’m not. I’ve had enough of those for a while, I think.’ Suddenly the brown eyes narrowed again. ‘Sir, is this about me and Alan Royston? If it is, I admit that we had a relationship for a time. It didn’t work out, but it didn’t even occur to me that it might have been improper, or against regulations. It began after I moved into the press office; it wasn’t the reason for my being transferred to it.’
Skinner was taken completely by surprise. ‘Pamela, I didn’t even know about your relationship with Alan Royston, nor do I care. The force press officer is a civilian, and you are both single people. What you do or did outside the office is none of my damn business. Listen, the only time I care a stuff about my officers’ sex lives is if there is a chance of them affecting performance on the job . . . and don’t misunderstand my meaning!’
He paused. ‘Look, I’d better get to the point here.
‘You know DCI Rose? She was with me when I saw you yesterday at Haddington.’ Pamela Masters nodded briefly, intrigue replacing the concern in her eyes.
‘Well, before her promotion, Mags held one of the most important jobs in this force. She was my personal assistant.’ He pointed to the piles of paper which still rose from his desk. ‘As you can see, I am badly in need of a replacement.
‘I’m looking for someone who is mature, responsible, intelligent; someone who is capable of broadening my outlook on most issues and of contributing original thought when asked; someone who does not draw back from using initiative and where necessary from taking decisions; most of all, someone with whom I can get on, and who can put up with me and my occasionally short fuse.
‘This isn’t a competitive interview situation. There are no rules about how I fill this one. The job’s yours if you want it.’ He smiled, as he saw her mouth drop open in surprise.
‘There’s no promotion involved,’ he said. ‘Recently the post has been filled by a DI, but that doesn’t mean a thing. What I will say is that if you spend time in my outer office, even a short time, and make a go of it, you will be seen as being on a fast track.’
He stood up, and Pamela Masters followed his lead. ‘Take twenty-four hours to think about it. Talk to Maggie Rose, if you like. She’ll tell you about my dark side, as far as she’s seen it. If you turn me down, no-one will ever know and it won’t affect your prospects in any way; but I’d like to think that you’ll be with me first thing on Monday morning.’
He began to escort her towards the door, but she stopped. ‘I’ve thought it over, sir. I appreciate your permission to speak to DCI Rose, but I always like to trust my own instincts.
‘Can I ask you two questions?’
‘Sure.’
‘What time do I report on Monday, and should I be in uniform or plain clothes?’
10
Skinner thought that he could catch traces of Pamela Masters’ perfume hanging in the air a good ten minutes after his office door had closed behind her.
After she had left he had buzzed Ruth and had told her to make arrangements for her transfer from Haddington CID to his staff. Next he had dictated memoranda for typing next day to Andy Martin, and to Dave Donaldson, as line commander, to advise them of his decision.
He had just finished his memo to Donaldson, and had turned his attention back to his paperwork when he was interrupted by Ruth, on the intercom. ‘Sorry, sir, but you asked me to call you whenever the Chief got back.’
Sir James Proud had barely settled behind his desk when Skinner rapped on his door and slipped into the room. ‘Yes Bob,’ he said, as ingenuously as he could, ‘what can I do for you?’
The DCC frowned down at him. ‘You can continue our conversation of this morning. I’m your second in command, yet you let slip that you had discussed my trip to America with someone before deciding to send me. If it was my other boss, the Secretar
y of State, that’s understandable. If it was another Chief Constable, say Jock Govan, fair enough. Now if it was Jim Elder or Andy Martin, while I could live with that, I’d feel like chinning them for not mentioning it to me afterwards.’ He paused.
‘No, no, Bob,’ said the Chief hurriedly. ‘Don’t say anything to Jim or Andy!’
Skinner looked at him, curiously. ‘What’s going on here? Why are you on the defensive about this?’
Proud Jimmy fidgeted behind his desk. ‘D’you remember? ’ said his grim-faced Deputy. ‘I said “If you want me to go on this thing, you’ll have to order me.” And you said “So be it.” Now it seems that you had set it up with someone else.
‘I want to know who that was. No, I demand to know who it was.’
The Chief swung round, in his swivel chair, shaking his silver head as he gazed out of the window across the force playing field.
‘Oh dear,’ he muttered. ‘Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear.’
11
‘Let me go over this again, because I still can’t believe it!’ Bob Skinner was almost shaking with rage, and had failed entirely in his resolve to keep his voice below a shout.
‘You went to my Chief Constable, and you asked him to send me on a trip which you knew I would hate, and which you knew would take me out of the country for a month. You had the unbelievable temerity to interfere in my professional life, and to keep it totally secret from me!
‘Do you realise that in the process you compromised the relationship between Jimmy and me, and put the poor guy in the impossible position of having to choose between the interests of friends?
‘Do you realise that you persuaded or bullied him into behaving unprofessionally, and put him in a position in which I would be justified in making a complaint against him to the Police Authority?
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