‘To tell you the truth,’ the fiscal replied, ‘I hadn’t given that any thought.’
‘What’s your normal procedure with homicide victims?’
‘I don’t have one. I make my judgement on a case by case basis, but it’s my judgement, I stress. It’s not a call that I delegate to a deputy. In this case . . . is the PM done?’
‘As we speak.’
‘Who are the immediate family?’
‘Mother and sister.’
‘Are there any prospects of further arrests?’
‘Further?’ Skinner repeated. ‘We never actually got round to arresting Smit and Botha.’
He heard a sound that might have been a chuckle. ‘You know what I mean. Because if there are, defence counsel might want access to the body.’
‘I know that, but it isn’t an automatic right. I can’t say for sure we will ever trace the people in this chain of conspiracy, let alone guessing when. We’re interviewing the brother of the man found dead in the getaway car, but I don’t believe he will be able to help us.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because he’s still alive. If Cec knew anything, he’d probably be in the cooler next to his brother.’
‘How about if I authorise release for burial only?’
‘Toni Field was born in Mauritius. What if her mother wants to take her home there?’
‘It would be a lot easier in an urn than a coffin. Is that what you’re saying?’
‘I’m not saying anything, only asking questions.’
‘But good ones,’ Paisley said. ‘Tell you what. If the post-mortem report satisfies me that there are no unresolved questions about the death, the family can have her, and do whatever they like with her.’
‘That’s fair enough,’ Skinner agreed. ‘I’ll tell them. The only unresolved questions about the death aren’t related to the autopsy. There are only two: who wanted her dead and why.’
‘Do your people have any ideas about either of those issues?’
‘I don’t encourage my people to deal in ideas, only evidence. As I speak they’re looking for any that’s to be found. When they have more to report, they will, to both of us. Good to talk to you; you must come here for lunch some time.’
‘That will also be a first,’ the fiscal remarked. ‘I’ll look forward to it.’
As he hung up, Skinner scribbled, ‘Lunch Pitt St with fiscal: arrange,’ then called the switchboard and asked to be connected with Marina Deschamps. It was her mother who came on the line. ‘I regret that Marina is unavailable,’ she said. ‘Will I do?’
‘Of course, Miss Deschamps. I want to talk to you about Antonia’s funeral.’
‘Good, for we were going to call you about that. We contacted an undertaker, but he said that he had no access to her body.’
‘Not yet,’ he agreed. ‘There are issues in any homicide, but once the fiscal has some paperwork in place, everything should be all right. What I want to talk to you about is the form of the funeral. Antonia was a chief constable, and she died in office. If you want a private family funeral, so be it, but it’s only right that her force should pay its tribute. I’m happy to organise everything for you, if that’s what you would like. Did she have a religion?’
‘She was raised in the Roman Catholic Church,’ she fell silent for a few seconds, ‘although she was not a regular visitor, I must admit.’
‘Nonetheless. Cardinal Gainer, in Edinburgh, is a friend of mine. I’m sure he would officiate, or approach his opposite number in Glasgow.’
‘That is very generous of you, Mr Skinner. I would like to talk to Marina about it when she returns.’
He heard a sound, in the background, as if someone was calling out. ‘Is that her now?’ he asked.
‘No, it’s just street noise. We will call you, Mr Skinner. Thank you very much.’
Thirty-Three
‘Anything on Bazza’s computer, Banjo?’ Lottie Mann called out to a detective constable who was seated at a table on the other side of the inquiry office, working on the confiscated PC. He rose and crossed towards her.
‘No email account that I can find, and that’s disappointing. He was very big on porn sites, though,’ he advised her. ‘Nothing illegal, nothing that Operation Amethyst would have hit on; all grown-ups, all doing fairly monotonous and repetitive stuff. Strange; from what I saw of Mrs Brown when we raided the house, he shouldn’t have needed any diversions like that. There are some pictures of her on the computer that bear that out, and a couple of videos.’
‘Chacun à son goût.’
The DC nicknamed Banjo . . . his surname was Paterson, but none of his colleagues made the connection to the man who wrote the words of ‘Waltzing Matilda’ . . . stared at her. ‘Eh?’ he exclaimed.
‘It’s the only French I know,’ she said. ‘It means there’s no telling what you’ll find under a guy’s bed when you take a look. Or something like that.’
‘I’ll take your word for it, boss. I only speak Spanish and a wee bit of Mandarin Chinese.’
‘Smart bastard,’ she snarled. ‘What else?’
‘Video games; the thing was wired up to a big high-def screen. And casinos, he was quite a gambler, was our Bazza. He played roulette and blackjack mostly, but poker as well, from time to time. He also had an account with an online bookie, and bet heavily on the horses and on boxing.’
‘Was he any good at it?’
‘He seems to have been. He paid through a credit card; I’ve looked at the records and most months there was more going in than coming out. He had a system for roulette and he only ever backed favourites.’
‘That’s not a complete surprise; Bazza’s old man had a bookie’s licence and a couple of betting shops. As I recall, Bazza ran them for a while after he died, then sold them on to a chain. So yes, he’d a gambling background. He backed the wrong horse, though, when he took up with the South Africans. How about Cec?’ she asked. ‘Did he have a PC?’
‘Cec couldnae spell PC,’ Dan Provan muttered.
‘Possibly not,’ the detective constable agreed. ‘He’s got a PlayStation and that was it. He likes war games; anything where people get blown to bits. He also likes porn, but DVDs in his case. We could nick him for a few of those if you want.’
‘Can’t be arsed,’ Mann said. ‘What about their office?’
‘Definitely non-ecological. They don’t give a shit about how many trees they kill. All their records are on paper. However, they did fail to hide a list of addresses. They didn’t connect to anything so we’re having a look. Our search warrant was broad enough to let us go straight in.’ Paterson smiled. ‘Now for the good bit. Uniform have visited just one so far, a four-bedroom villa in a modern estate near Clydebank; it’s a cannabis farm, and you can bet the others are too.’
She laughed. ‘Poor old Cec; it’s not his week. He’s probably home by now; have him rearrested and brought in, then hand him and that address list over to Operation League. He’s their business now.’ She turned to Provan. ‘Bilbo,’ she began.
He glared at her. ‘The chief wis bad enough,’ he growled. ‘No’ you as well.’
‘What do we have on Bazza as a force? Is there an intelligence report on him?’
‘Now there’s a hell of a question to be askin’ a garden fuckin’ ornament like me.’
‘Okay, Dan,’ she laughed, ‘I’m sorry.’
‘No more funnies?’
‘No more funnies.’
‘Good, because that really was a hell of a question. Ah’ve got a mate, a good mate, in what we’re no’ supposed to call Special Branch any more, in Counter-Terrorism Intelligence Section. He’s jist told me that the chief . . . the old chief, no’ the new one . . . asked for updated files on all organised crime figures as soon as she came in. When SCT went to work on Bazza, they asked the National Criminal Intelligence Service for input, and a big red sign came up, warnin’ them off.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘It means he wis a fuckin’ gr
ass, Lottie; he was protected. And if it wasnae for us, and it wasn’t, it must have been for MI5. They’ve got a serious crime section.’
‘Jesus!’
‘You’ll get brownie points wi’ the new chief when ye tell him that, eh?’
‘Maybe. But have you thought through the implications?’
‘Sure,’ Provan admitted, ‘but Ah’m no’ paid enough to spell them out. Ye’d better go and see the gaffer.’
‘I will do. While I’m up there, you concentrate on the only other line of inquiry we have with Bazza. Have we got the CCTV tapes from the Easthaven Retail Park yet?’
‘Aye, and I’ve cleared up something; nothin’ major, just a point for the record. We know that Smit and Botha were at Easthaven and that Bazza went there too, to meet them. We know from the gaffer that the South Africans were in Livingston on Friday, collecting their weapons. Ah’ve checked with the team in Edinburgh, spoke to a DC called Haddock, bright-soundin’ kid . . .’
‘Nothing fishy about him?’ Mann murmured.
‘Whit . . . ach, be serious, Lottie. He said that there was no mention of a third man bein’ with them. So, Bazza must have been in the boot o’ the motor by then.’
‘Fair enough, fills in the timeline. Take a look at that video and see if it shows them meeting, then we’ll join all the dots. What does the recording cover?’
‘Two cameras, all day Friday, midnight to midnight. But there’s a clock on it so Ah’ll speed run it back to just before seven and go from there.’
‘Fine, you do that. I’ll go and see the boss.’
Thirty-Four
‘You do realise, Lottie,’ a frowning Skinner said, ‘that I should be water-boarding the wee man until he tells me who his contact in CTIS is. That section is supposed to be completely confidential. Information like that shouldn’t be passed on outside the reporting chain.’
‘That’s why I didn’t bring him up here with me,’ the DI replied. ‘But you’d be wasting your time, boss. He’d drown before he told you. Dan’s old school.’
‘Don’t I know it. That’s why the tap’s not running. I won’t press the point, for now, but I won’t forget it either. Make sure he knows that, so that his mate, whoever he is, will get to hear about it.’
‘Understood, boss. I’ll drop a word in his ear.’
‘Don’t be too friendly about it. I know he was your mentor, but you’re his line manager, not the other way around. Now, since he has given us this information . . . you know what it suggests?’
‘I think so,’ she said, ‘if it was the Security Service that flagged Bazza Brown as off limits . . . and who else would it be?’
‘Drugs enforcement,’ the chief suggested, ‘but that’s unlikely. I can and will check it, though. If that was the cause of the red notice, it would have come from Scotland. The head of the SCDEA and I are close. He’ll tell me if it was his mob that were running Brown. Indeed, I’ve got a feeling that if it was them, he’d have been in touch with me by now to let me know.
‘So, let’s say that Bazza was on the books of MI5’s serious crime section. If our speculation that they fixed Beram Cohen up with a new identity is well founded, then he would have as well, and that’s our link.’
‘What do you want me to do about it, boss?’
‘Absolutely nothing,’ Skinner replied, almost before she had finished her question. ‘As far as you’re concerned, you never had the information you just brought me and neither did Dan. He shouldn’t have been given it in the first place, and if he made any written note of his conversation, it must be destroyed.’
‘Yes, sir.’ She rose from the chair that faced the chief constable’s desk. It was low set, so that whoever sat behind the desk was always looking down on his visitors, an intimidating tactic that Skinner disliked, and vowed that he would change. ‘Since I was never here,’ she said, ‘I’d better make myself scarce.’
He laughed. ‘You do that, Lottie. Concentrate on the video you told me about. If you can show Bazza Brown meeting Smit and Botha, you can wrap up the inquiry into his murder, and pass that on to Reba Paisley’s office. Why he met them, if we’re right about that, she doesn’t need to know. How they came to know him, that’s completely off limits.’
‘Fine, I’ll report back on the first part as soon as we’ve nailed it down.’
He watched her as she left then reached across his desk for the phone, only to be interrupted by his mobile signalling another incoming text. ‘Done here. Scrubbing up, then on my way. Sarahx.’
No reply needed; he smiled as he put it back in his pocket, then picked up the other instrument, selected ‘direct dial’ and made the call he had been intending.
‘Mario? How are you settling into my old office? Do you like the view? You can see every bugger who comes in and goes out. Useful at times.’
‘Sure,’ the newly appointed ACC conceded, ‘but they can see me.’
‘Not if you angle the blinds right.’
‘I’ll try that. Have you got any other advice for me?’
‘Yeah, keep your eye on David Mackenzie; he’s after your job.’
‘I worked that one out for myself, Bob, quite some time ago. Anything else? Anything serious?’
‘No, but a question. How’s Paula?’
‘Blooming. No sign of delayed shock, post-traumatic stress or any of that crap, I’m relieved to say. Maybe because she’s got too much on her mind. She saw her consultant again this morning, at his request. When he checked her over yesterday, he thought he might have got her dates wrong. Now he’s sure, he’s given her to the end of the week to get the job done herself, or he’s going to induce labour.’
‘They did that with Myra, when she had Alex. As I recall, it started with castor oil. Tell her that; the threat alone might be a trigger.’
‘I will. Now let me ask you one. How’s Aileen? First off, I’m sorry about you two, and about all the other shit. She’s had a very tough forty-eight hours, man.’
Skinner felt his forehead tighten. ‘Are you saying I made it worse?’ he asked.
‘No, absolutely not,’ McGuire insisted. ‘I wasn’t implying that. I understand how things are between you. It was a straight question.’
‘In that case, she’s fine. She and I spoke not that long ago and everything’s okay. We’ve put our situation on the record, so the press will have to be very careful with what they say about her. I know she had that bother at her press conference this morning, but given the trouble the Hatton woman’s been making, it’ll work for her rather than agin her.’
‘Good. Now would you like to come to the point?’
‘What makes you think there is one?’ Skinner asked.
‘How long have we known each other? About fifteen years? I’m not saying you never call me just to pass the time of day, but I don’t recall you ever doing it from the office, not once.’
‘Christ, is that true? You know, McIlhenney said much the same earlier. What does that say about me?’ He sighed. ‘The sad thing is, you’re right. I’ve got a situation here, I need it resolved, but I can’t be bothered going through channels. It would take too long. Instead, I’m looking for a simpler solution. Do you remember a wee guy called Johan Ramsey?’
‘Wee Jo? Of course. A master of his craft, if ever there was one.’
‘It didn’t stop him getting lifted a few times though. Do you know where he is now?’
‘As a matter of fact I do. He’s here in Edinburgh, on parole after his last sentence. We were advised when he was released.’
‘Good,’ Skinner declared. ‘That’s what I wanted to hear.’
‘How come?’ McGuire laughed. ‘What do you want with him?’
‘I want to employ him.’
‘You what?’
‘I mean it. I’ve got a job for him. There’s a safe in my office here. Toni Field had it installed, and only she knew the combination. I don’t have the time to wait for some bloody company in the south of England to free up one of their specialist
s, so I want to hire one of my own. I’d like you to pick him up, and invite him to join me here tomorrow morning, to see what he can do. Tell him there’s a hundred in it for him, regardless, cash, and that his probation officer will never know. Can you do that for me, ACC McGuire? Make it work and I’ll buy you lunch after your first ACPOS meeting.’
‘Hell, Bob, you don’t need to bribe me to get me to do that. That’s a first, and it’s going in my memoirs.’
‘That’s fine,’ Skinner grunted, ‘but you’d better make it clear to wee Jo that if it winds up in his, then next time he gets sent down, I will make certain, personally, that parole is off the table.’
Thirty-Five
‘In my office, please, Dan,’ Lottie Mann said as she returned to the investigation suite.
‘Absolutely,’ Provan muttered, but too quietly for her to hear, and he rose from his seat and followed her into a small room at the end of the open area.
‘See that friend of yours in CTIS?’ she began, without preamble. ‘Whoever he is, you’d better warn him that where he works careless talk costs lives, and in this case it’s his that’s on the line. On Toni Field’s watch there would probably have been a leak inquiry over what he told you. There won’t be this time, but probably only because Skinner likes you too much to use a nutcracker to get the name out of you.
‘We are not to follow up what you were told. Instead we’re to wrap up Bazza’s murder, pass the file to the fiscal and mark it case closed, then get on with the main investigation, which is still, unlike Field, very much alive. That’s the way it is, Dan. You are from Barcelona. You know nussing.’
‘Ye’ve got the accent wrong,’ the DS said. ‘Ah’m old enough to have seen Fawlty Towers when it wis new. Unfortunately, Lottie, Ah don’t know nothin’. In fact, Ah know too fuckin’ much.’
‘Oh, I know that,’ she laughed. ‘Too much for your own good.’
‘No, love,’ he sighed, ‘for yours.’
She stared at him. ‘What are you on about, Detective Sergeant? Can we just keep up the pretence that I’m your senior officer?’
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