Wilding noted the information on a pad. ‘I’d like some family background on Eddie senior: parents, siblings, uncles, aunts, cousins. Can you do that for me?’
‘No problem. Give me an hour or so.’
‘Thanks, Ms Thorpe,’ he said, hung up, and looked up to see McIlhenney approaching his desk. ‘Guess what? Soraya Charnwood’s a ...’
The superintendent beat him to the punch. ‘Pharmacist; we got word from the DSS while you were speaking to the GRO. She’s employed in the dispensing department at the Western General. That means she’d have access to the drugs that were used to paralyse Starr. I’ve also been speaking to the SDEA, sharing our information with them; their operation with the Guardia Civil, the one that Bandit effed up, involved a butcher from Dundee called Joe Falconer. He made a trip to Pamplona as well: he was suspected of being involved in supply, so he was under round-the-clock surveillance. He dropped his car at the same garage, and picked it up a couple of days later. They went to lift him this morning and found him in his meat fridge, shot in the head. What does that sound like?’
‘It sounds like Eddie and Soraya have been closing the book on anyone who could give evidence against them and her brothers.’
‘Exactly. These are dangerous people: they’re armed and on the run, we assume, with their kid. I only hope they know when the game’s up, for his sake. Those photos we took from their place: you’ve had them distributed?’
‘Yes, but they still may be hard to catch. They left their passports behind them at their flat; that has to mean they’re travelling with forgeries. If they pick a really busy place to exit through, and change their appearance . . .’
‘They can change theirs, but disguising the wee boy will be more difficult.’
‘It may be too late already. They could have been on their way out of the country by the time we found Big Ming’s body. His place isn’t that far from Edinburgh airport. DVLA told me that Charnwood drives a blue Escort: I’ve circulated the number with the photographs and I’m having the airport car park checked.’
‘Of course, but even if it’s there it could take the best part of a day to find it.’
‘True.’ Wilding sighed. ‘I’m sorry, boss,’ he said.
‘What for?’
‘We should have been where we are now three days ago.’
‘That’s not your fault. I know you did your best to keep the inquiry on the right lines.’
‘I could have come to you when I saw how it was going.’ McIlhenney smiled and shook his head. ‘No, you couldn’t, Ray. Two or three days into a new job, with a new DCI, and you go behind his back to complain about him? I don’t think so. If it’s anyone’s fault it’s big Bob’s, for sticking him down here without thinking it through.’
It was Wilding’s turn to grin. ‘Are you going to tell him that?’
‘No, I am not, and neither is Mario. But he’d figure it out for himself if he knew what’s been happening. Actually I suspect he has already: it was him that suggested I move Stevie Steele down here. Strictly within these walls, Bandit wasn’t moved off the Drugs Squad as a reward for outstanding results. He was shifted because he took too high a profile in achieving them. He’s a very visible copper, is Mr Mackenzie; he can’t help it. Short-term, in the right situation, that can be valuable. But long-term, in a job that calls for a low profile, it’s not.’
‘So how’s the long-term going to be in this office?’
‘That, my friend, is going to be up to him.’
Fifty-nine
‘I’m so glad you could make it tonight,’ said Alex, ‘even if it’s only for a drink in the Traverse Bar. You’ve made an honest woman out of me.’
‘Hey, come on,’ Gina protested. ‘You may not be a criminal lawyer but even you should know that an alibi doesn’t count if it’s fixed up after the event.’
‘Maybe not but I don’t like to think of myself as telling out and out porkers.’
‘Speaking of which, what’s he like, this guy Guy?’
‘He’s a Mr Smooth: he looks the part, I have to admit, even if he is carrying a bit of flab. The trouble is, he knows it.’
‘That doesn’t make him a bad person.’
‘He isn’t a bad person. It’s just that he has this smugness about him that infuriates me sooner or later, but as soon as it does, and I let him know, like I did this morning, he has this way of making you feel sorry, and you wind up apologising for saying what you really think.’
‘Ahem. You said “this morning”?’
Alex smiled awkwardly and shrugged. ‘Well . . .’
‘Hussy.’ Gina chuckled throatily.
‘No! It’s not as if we hadn’t been there before. I slept with him a couple of times when I was in London.’
‘I see. So now he gets himself a stopover in Edinburgh, consults his palm-top, and says, “Let’s see, who’s a likely bet around here? Ah, good old Alex.” That’s how it was?’
‘Lexy.’
‘What?’
‘He calls me Lexy.’
‘As in Sexy Lexy? And you let him?’
‘Let’s say I humoured him for a while. But you’re right: that’s how it was, or at least that’s how it turned out. If I’m being really honest, it started off the other way round. I was needing some uncomplicated male company in the flat after these bloody calls, and he was handy, so I pulled him, or let him pull me. Oh, what the fuck? It doesn’t matter.’
‘So how was it for you anyway, darling? Or need I ask, since you’ve fixed this emergency alibi to avoid seeing him again?’
Alex sniffed. ‘A girl does not discuss these things. Suffice it to say that all morning I found myself thinking about the remark by a divorced lady, who said that having sex with her ex was like being fallen on by a large Victorian wardrobe with the key still in the lock.’
‘So, on a scale of one to ten?’
‘One and a half: he rates the extra half point because at least it didn’t last long.’
‘But you said it was the third time.’
‘These things fade in the memory. Listen, if you doubt my rating and want to check him out for yourself, he’s in the George. But be sure you take your own Durex.’
Gina looked at her, poker-faced. ‘What’s his room number?’
The two women dissolved into laughter. ‘Thanks, pal,’ said Alex, when hers had subsided. ‘You’ve cheered me up. Guy left me feeling like a bit of a tart this morning, especially when the hunk next door saw him go.’ She sipped her tomato juice. ‘But,’ she continued, ‘I didn’t want to see you just to give myself a pep-up and a veneer of honesty.’
‘Or to give me a hot tip for the George?’
‘Not even that. No, there’s something I want to ask you. Remember that cousin of yours?’
‘Which cousin? I’ve got ten of the buggers.’
‘That particular cousin: when I was splitting up with Andy and living with you, the one I . . . found solace with.’
‘Solace? Is that what you called it? Young Raymond thought all his Christmas Days had come at once. God, girl, what is this? You don’t talk about your sex life much, but when you do, it all comes out. What is it? Has your disappointing experience overnight made you want to look for better? As I remember you had a pretty fine time with him too.’
‘Maybe I did,’ Alex admitted, ‘but that’s in the past. I’ve got no urge to rekindle anything there: I was wondering what he’s doing with himself these days, that’s all.’
‘I’m damned if I know. Raymond is the black sheep of the Weston family; he makes me glad that I’m a Reed, not one of them. You may have thought he was a cuddly big chap, but he’s not. He’s been in and out of trouble for the last few years. That shouldn’t surprise you either: his first bit of bother landed you in trouble with your dad, when he named you as proof that he couldn’t have been where the police said he was. The worst, though, was when he and a pal were arrested for making Ecstasy. Raymond wound up being a Crown witness, although he was up to his nec
k in it; the other lad got seven years. There was talk that his father, my uncle Nolan, fixed it with a friend of his in the Crown Office.
‘Last I heard of him he had wangled himself a job as a trainee fund manager somewhere, but that he gave it up after a few months. I’m not surprised: I wouldn’t let the skinny bastard anywhere near my funds, I’ll tell you. So why your sudden interest in him, if you don’t want to shag him?’
Alex looked at her friend. ‘It’s to do with these calls,’ she said. ‘I had one the night before last. After a while, the guy said, “You hurt me, Alex.” Ever since then I’ve been thinking of men I’ve hurt in my time. I keep coming back to him.’
‘How did you hurt him?’
‘I did, Gina. I had my fling with him to get back at Andy, because I felt he was turning into my jailer, laying down the law about how I should live my life, putting pressure on me to get married and have kids before I was anything like ready.’
‘Listening to you now, I have to tell you that none of that sounds like a good excuse for screwing our Raymond.’
‘You’re right. On top of all that, I was starting to realise that I didn’t want to marry him at all. His unshakeable niceness was suffocating me; somewhere inside I knew I had to get out. I suppose that Raymond was part of the process. That’s the trouble, I never felt anything for him: it was a case of “You’re cute, you’ll do.” I picked him up, and when it all became too much trouble, I threw him away again.’
‘Let’s go back to the calls. What did the voice sound like? Was it deep? Was it high-pitched?’
‘It was somewhere in the middle. It sounded as if he was speaking through a hankie . . .’
‘Standard procedure for perverts, I suppose.’
‘Maybe, but it works. What I’m saying is that it could have been Raymond’s voice, but I can’t be sure.’
‘I’ll find out what I can about him, Alex. Maybe you’re right. The words “Raymond” and “you’ve hurt me” don’t sit well together in my mind, because he’s a hurter. But, if you’re right, that’s exactly what he’s doing to you. Christ, he drove you into the arms of Mr Wonderful! How hurtful is that? Leave it with me.’
Sixty
Merle Gower had mellowed in the years since her arrival in London: she had lost a considerable amount of weight, but had gained a few grey hairs, and a little tact. When Skinner had first met her he had found her blunt to the point of rudeness, but experience seemed to have taught her that it was better to withhold her opinions until she was invited to voice them. Her job had changed also: when she had replaced Skinner’s late friend Joe Doherty at the US Embassy, it had been as FBI liaison, but the growth of the perceived terrorist threat had seen her role expand and its focus change so that she reported to the President’s national security adviser, and no longer to the J. Edgar Hoover Building.
The wooden-floored Clarence was quiet when she walked in, but still she almost missed the two Scots, who were seated at a table to the right of the entrance. Her broad black face creased into a smile as she turned in response to Skinner’s soft whistle. ‘Hey there,’ she said as she joined them, ‘the Big Man himself. I thought you didn’t care for London.’
‘It’s okay,’ he replied. ‘It’s just not my city, that’s all.’ He glanced to his left. ‘Merle, this is DI Dorothy Shannon; she’s just taken over from Neil McIlhenney as our head of Special Branch.’
‘Congratulations,’ said Gower, as the two women shook hands. ‘You must be good if this guy picked you.’
‘Don’t flatter her,’ the DCC growled. ‘She might believe you. What do you want to drink?’
‘Gin and tonic.’
Skinner handed Shannon a ten-pound note. ‘I don’t pull rank very often, Dottie. Get another for yourself too.’
The American glanced around the pub as the inspector left them. ‘One thing about you, Bob,’ she murmured. ‘You always ask interesting questions.’
‘Oh, yes? That bank struck a chord, did it?’
‘What made you ask about it?’
‘Someone I’m investigating came into money. The Premier Taiwan Bank was where it wound up.’
‘Fine, but why ask me?’
Skinner’s eyes twinkled as he looked back at her. ‘Instinct.’
‘Why don’t I quite believe that?’
‘It’s your job not to. These days you Yanks don’t take anything at face value.’
‘Do I detect a note of disapproval there?’
‘You’re not making yourself popular among your allies.’
‘Like we give a shit,’ said Gower, happily, as Shannon placed two tall glasses on the table, and handed Skinner his change.
‘So, what about it?’ he asked her.
‘PTB’s a legitimate bank,’ she told him. ‘But it has a pretty discreet client list. Among them you’ll find several friends of the Central Intelligence Agency. It’s one of their favourite channels for rewarding an asset or keeping him in working capital.’
Skinner’s expression darkened.
‘Did I give you bad news?’
‘It could have been worse. It could have been Al Qaeda, or the Chinese.’ He reached into his pocket and handed her an envelope. ‘You’ll find three names in there; anything you can tell me about any of them would be appreciated.’
‘How soon?’
‘Let’s have breakfast tomorrow, Royal Horseguards Hotel.’ He pushed himself upright, leaving his pint half finished. ‘I’ve got another meeting,’ he said. ‘You two get to know each other. See you in the morning, eight thirty.’
Sixty-one
‘You’re becoming obsessive about this, Jimmy. I think it’s time you stopped it, and handed it all over to Sergeant McGurk.’
The chief constable braved his wife’s scolding voice, which came from the door of his study. ‘In good time, dear: I’ve got a couple of things to check out first before I’m ready to do that.’ He heard a loud ‘Tch!’ then a sound that stopped just short of a slam.
He turned back to his computer, and opened his mailbox. The day before, he had logged on to Friends Reunited and had found Scotstoun Primary School. Once there he had looked at the years 1943 and 1944; on one or the other Primrose Jardine would have been in her final year. Of course she might not have lived in Scotstoun as a child, but the address on the marriage certificate was the only direct lead he had to the woman. There were three pupils listed, two of them in 1944. He sent messages to all three, explaining that he was trying to contact Primrose Jardine, or anyone who might have known her. It was a very wild shot in the dark, he knew: he expected nothing from it, and so his heart jumped when he saw, waiting for him, a message from the website. He opened it and, to his delight, found a reply from one of the three.
Dear Mr Proud
Fancy you asking about wee Primrose. She and I were pals all the way through primary, and then at secondary. She left to be a nurse and I got a job in the shipyard office, but we used to see each other for a while. Her dad was killed in the war and her mum died when she was twenty-two. She was left a wee bit of money then from her mum’s insurance policy and she got keeping on their council house. When she was twenty-five she married a man called Bothwell in the registry office and I was her bridesmaid. He was a teacher at Jordanhill College School and they went to live up Broomhill. The last time I saw her, in 1960 (I remember because the Olympics were on in Rome) she told me she was pregnant. When I tried to get in touch with her after that, a man told me they’d moved and that’s the last I heard.
Hope this helps.
Yours sincerely,
Ina Leslie (Deans)
‘It does, Mrs Leslie,’ he murmured, ‘it does. What’s the other thing Bob says a good detective needs, Jimmy? Luck, he says, sheer bloody luck and as much as he can get.’
Sixty-two
Mackenzie heard the footsteps on the gravel. He waited for the thump on the door, but instead he heard the ring of a bell, from the rear of the house. He stayed in his chair, staring at the muted televi
sion as Cheryl showed the visitor into the living room, listening to the shouts of his children, at play upstairs. ‘Why did you come to the back door?’ he asked.
‘I wanted to count the empties,’ Neil McIlhenney replied.
‘That’s got fuck all to do with you.’
‘Wrong. When you call in sick on the second day of a murder investigation because you’ve had too many bevvies the night before, that has everything to do with me.’
‘Hey, you’ve got some nerve!’
‘Yes, I have, and don’t protest your innocence. We both know I’m right. Are you on the hard stuff?’
Mackenzie sagged in his chair. ‘I have been lately,’ he admitted.
‘Well, you can cut that out for a start. Try having a dry week; see whether it’s easy or hard. That’ll tell you a lot. I know this from bitter early experience: if you’ve got a grudge against the job and you look for help to forget it, you’ll find it doesn’t work. And you do have a grudge, we both know that too.’
‘I’m beginning to think it has a grudge against me. I don’t fit into this force, Neil. Moving through from Glasgow was a mistake: I’m going to ask for a move back.’
‘That would be a much bigger mistake.’
‘Why?’
‘You want a straight answer? You’ve just pissed off the commander of the SDEA, and he’s a big mate of Max Allan, the Strathclyde ACC. After that they won’t take you back in a hurry. If you don’t believe me, put your request in and see what happens. Once that’s been knocked back you’ll find out how dumb you’ve been, because the boss won’t have anyone in a key position in CID who isn’t fully committed to it. You will wind up in a uniform and in an office.’
‘I’d leave the force if that happened.’
‘Then make sure it doesn’t.’
‘How?’
‘First, don’t breathe another word about a transfer. Then take a look at yourself, and work on your big weaknesses. You’re too much of a loner, Bandit, you’re too much of an extrovert and you’re too ill disciplined. You’re trying to be the sort of cop you find in crime novels, and we don’t have room for mavericks like them. They might have been able to cope with you in a force the size of Strathclyde, but we can’t, and we won’t. Top to bottom, we’re a team; nobody can play his own game without regard for proper methods, for rules and procedures. You want my very serious advice, beyond cutting down on the drink? Then use your time off to consider what I’ve said, and work out how you can be a better cop, and a better leader. When you get back you can start by apologising to Ray Wilding. He’s made no complaints about you, but I’m damn sure he’s had grounds.’
16 - Dead And Buried Page 26