are that's the only reason. But if you go up to the golf club, you'll be
doing something that the police may have done already, or worse, may
still have to do.
'Give it up for today. Just go home.'
He heard her sigh. 'Okay,' she conceded. T will. Come and see me after
work?'
'Sure.' He paused, and chuckled. 'Can I bring my toothbrush?'
There was a silence on the line. 'Okay,' said Ruth, eventually. 'But
only if you bring your shaving kit as well. I'm funny about morning
stubble.'
'Mmm,' he said, replacing the phone quickly; it took a conscious effort
to force his mind back to the job, and to the minute of the morning's
meeting.
Nevertheless, he succeeded; he deciphered his notes quickly and had
almost finished transcribing them, when the phone rang once again. 'DS
Pye.' That flash of pride again.
'Sammy? This is Superintendent Rose. Are you alone?'
'Christ,' he thought. 'My lucky day.'
AUTOGRAPHS IN THE RAIN
'I mean are you free to speak?'
'Yes, ma'am. Why?'
'Because something very odd has happened, and I thought I'd talk to
you about it before I did anything. My duty CID team here in Torphichen
Place has just had a call from the CID in N Division of Strathclyde Police,
Cumbernauld Office. Fortunately Ray Wilding took the call himself;
someone else might not have twigged to the name.
'Sam, the Strathclyde boys have asked that we pick up Ruth McConnell
and deliver her to them for questioning about a suspicious death. Do you
know what this is about?'
'Jesus!' Pye exploded. 'Some bastard's going really over the top now.
The so-called suspicious death is Ruthie's uncle; we found him on Saturday
when we went to visit him. Mr Chase knows about it; he was in the Ops
Room on Saturday and he called out the local police for me.
'The old gaffer took a heart attack, or something similar, in his bath.
That's all there was to it. The Strathclyde lot are being really heavy-handed,
Ma'am. They wouldn't let Ruthie into the house when she went through
this morning.'
'She's not at work?'
'No. The boss gave her the day off to make funeral arrangements and
start tidying up the old boy's affairs. Leave it to me, ma'am, I'll speak to
Mr Martin or Mr Skinner. One of them'll squash Strathclyde.'
'No, Sergeant, they won't. This is my divisional responsibility, and I'm
not beginning my tenure of office by showing favouritism, or by getting a
name in a neighbouring force of some weak woman who passes tough
decisions up the ladder. If the Cumbernauld CID want to interview Ruth,
that's their right in the circumstances, whether they're being officious or
not.
'Where is she right now? Do you know?'
'I hope she's driving back through to Edinburgh.'
'Does she have a mobile?'
'Yes.'
'Okay, here's what I'll do. I will call N Division back and tell them
that I don't have the resources to spare officers to act as delivery boys.
I'll tell them that they can interview Ruth at this office at five o'clock.
You call her and tell her to report here in time. Make sure that she does,
mind.'
Pye felt anger rumbling up in him, but he suppressed it. He knew enough
Jl
not to shout at Maggie Rose. 'Very good, ma'am. Can I sit in on the
interview?'
'I shouldn't think so for one minute. But you can be here. From what
you say, they should really be interviewing you as well.'
38
'You did the right thing, Maggie; don't worry about it. I appreciate your
phoning to tell me about it, but the decision was yours all the way, and your
assessment of the situation is spot on. You can rest assured that I won't go
snarling at anyone through in Lanarkshire, either; I promise you, I'll keep
my hands off this one, completely.
'All the same,' Bob Skinner continued, 'when the Strathclyde officers
get to your place, I want them to be bloody clear as to who it is they've
come to interview. I can't fault anybody for just doing their job, even if
they are insensitive enough to ask for a bereaved relative to be brought to
them for interview, but if I find out afterwards that they've been discourteous
or aggressive to Ruth in any way, then I will have their tripes for supper,
and no mistake.'
The superintendent smiled gently. Til explain the background just as
you say, sir, don't worry.'
'You do that. Who knows, they might even invite you to sit in on their
interview. Don't let Pye anywhere near it, though. In fact, once he's dropped
Ruthie off, send him packing. Tell him you'll give her a lift home once
they're finished with her; you don't want him pacing the corridor outside
the interview room.'
'You're right: I don't. I remember how Mario was when I got hurt, and I
remember thinking that it was just as well Brian Mackie had the bloke who
did it locked up in a cell. By the same token, the idea of having a serving
officer in the building while his girlfriend's being interviewed... even if it
is a formality... does not appeal to me: too many potential complications.'
She paused. 'I suppose it is a formality,' she said tentatively.
'Of course it is,' the DCC responded at once, then he too hesitated.
'They're being heavy-handed about it, right enough, but I'm sure that's all
it is.'
'Still, it's unusual
'For someone to be brought in for interview in a run-of-the-mill sudden
40
AUTOGRAPHS IN THE RAIN
death investigation? Yes, it is. You know, Mags, with every minute that
passes this is becoming more difficult for me. As Ruth's boss, and more
than that, as her friend, I want to pick up the phone, call the officer in
charge of this investigation, and ask him what the bloody hell he's playing
at. Yet as the DCC I can't be seen to be leaning on another force, especially
not at this time.'
She caught his veiled meaning.
'If Jock Govan was still in the Chief's chair in Glasgow,' he continued,
'it would be okay. I could just have called him; or even Willie Haggerty, if
he hadn't been moved back into uniform as a divisional gaffer. But I don't
know the new guy yet, so I have to be careful not to provoke any diplomatic
incidents. I've already had to defuse one bomb today; I don't fancy handling
another.'
'Why don't you ask Mr Chase to make enquiries?'
'Are you being mischievous, Detective Superintendent Rose?' Skinner
snorted. 'I don't believe in introducing foxes to chicken coops, and that's
all I'm saying. No, we'll just have to be patient, if we want to find out
whether there's anything sinister behind this request. It does help having
them on our turf, though.'
'In what way?'
'Well, not interfering in advance of the interview is one thing. But
afterwards .. .'
'Don't worry, sir. These people won't leave this office without me
knowing what all this is about.'
'Good for you. Keep me in touch.'
The DCC hung up the phone and returned to the pile of papers throu
gh
which he had been wading when Rose had called. There was nothing there
of any drama or import; over the previous few months the force had gone
through a period of calm almost unprecedented in recent years. It had been
so quiet that Skinner had even taken to reviewing old and unsolved
investigations, reading the notes to see if anything caught his eye in a way
that might offer a new line of inquiry.
The latest of these, the file on the unsolved murder of two teenage girls,
still lay on his desk. He glanced at it, and was reaching for it, when the
phone rang again.
'Yes, Neil,' he said, knowing that it would be Mcllhenney on the other
end of the line.
'Call for you, Boss.'
'On your number?' Almost invariably, calls for Skinner came through
Ruth McConnell's extension.
'Yes. Remember the lady you mentioned to me on Saturday? It's her. Do
you want to talk to her?'
'Course I do. Put her through.'
He leaned back in his chair, hearing the click on the line. 'Hi Lou,' he
began. 'What a surprise. Right on cue too; my day was beginning to drag.
What can I do for you?'
'Nothing, really. I just wanted to talk to you; to make sure you were all
right after Friday night, I suppose. I guessed that you wouldn't have given
me this number if you didn't want me to call, so . . .'
'Yeah, sure. But never mind how? am. Did you get back home okay?
A"d are you all right? It's me should have phoned you, really, after chucking
you as broad as you're long down Regent Street.'
Her deep throaty laugh sent a warm familiar feeling down his spine.
'You're forgiven: just like old times in a way. I'm fine, honestly. You owe
me a pair of tights and a cleaner's bill for one Dior jacket, but apart from
that... Tell me,' she asked, with sudden concern, 'did the police catch the
man?'
'Hah! The police didn't even believe that there was a man. There were
no signs of a gunshot at the scene. The borough commander got very Humpty
Dumpty about it.'
'But that's ridiculous! There was a shot. I heard it. I saw the car drive
away, and I saw you chase it. I'll bloody well call and tell them.'
'No, Lou. You won't. That would not be a good idea; not at all. Don't
you worry about old Humpty. He's fallen off his wall since then; all the
king's horses and all the king's men are looking for the bits, even now.
'As for the incident itself, I'm not worried about it. London can be a
wild place at night; any city can. Chances are it was a random thing, some
cowboy who gets a buzz out of scaring the posh people up the West End. It
happens.'
'Why don't I believe you believe that?'
'Because of who I am, that's all; it's as likely an explanation as any.'
'But not the only one.'
'No, but really, Lou. Don't concern yourself.'
'Because big tough Bob can take care of himself? Sure you can; you
always could, even at university. But I've read about you. I didn't tell you
on Friday, but I've followed your career ever since you began to get your
42
AUTOGRAPHS IN THE RAIN
name in the papers. Remember Lucy, my sister? She was only a toddler
when you and I were going out together, but she's kept me in touch with
your adventures over the years. I know about some of the scrapes you've
been in, like that time when you were stabbed and almost killed. You
probably didn't even know this, but while you were in hospital, your wife
had a delivery of a bouquet of red roses. There was no card, but they were
from me.
'You're not a cat, Bob. You don't have nine lives-. Too damn right I'll
concern myself, even though I'll concede that Friday night probably had
nothing to do with your past.'
He scratched his chin. 'God, do that speech in an upstate New York
accent and you'd sound just like Sarah.'
'She's welcome. I'll tell you something, my love. It's great to hav"r-a
past with a man like you, but I don't envy Sarah the present.'
'That's comforting to know. In that case you won't want to have dinner
with me again, when I'm in London after the New Year.'
'I didn't say that. Actually, you'll have an opportunity before then; unless
you don't want to be seen with me in Scotland, that is. I've been offered the
lead in a new movie, and it's going to be shot in Scotland. I get to play a
lady lawyer involved in some sort of shenanigans; I've only just been sent
the script.
'I'm coming up to Edinburgh on Friday; I'm meeting the director and
the executive producer in the Balmoral, then being driven round the
locations.'
'Okay,' he responded. 'If you're free in the evening, let's have dinner.
But why don't we do it at my place? You can meet Sarah, and give her your
sympathies. You can tell her about the roses too if you like. If you take the
part, you'd better meet my daughter as well. She's a lady lawyer; she'll
help you research it.'
He heard her draw in her breath. 'Are you sure about that? Introducing
me to Sarah, that is.'
'Sure I'm sure. Are you up for it?'
'Yes,' she said, firmly, a decision made. 'Thank you; I'd like that.'
'Okay, it's a date. I'll collect you from the Balmoral around six.'
'Is this normal practice with you CID people?'
Ruth McConnell was bristling with anger as she stood on the pavement
staring at the entrance to the Torphichen Place police office. As she turned
her fury on Sammy Pye he had a mental picture of his toothbrush, standing
alone in its glass beside his bathroom mirror.
'No, it isn't,' he assured her. 'But different forces do things in
different ways. These people are sticklers, and there's nothing I can do
about that.'
She was only slightly mollified. 'Okay, I won't blame you. All the same,
this is ridiculous. Telling me to report to them, indeed! Why couldn't they
have come to see me at home? That's what you'd do in the same
circumstances, isn't it?'
Pye was inwardly thankful that he had not told her of the original request
from the Strathclyde officers, that she be brought to their office. 'Sure it is,
love,' he answered, 'but like I said, I can't speak for these punters.'
She shook her long shimmering hair and straightened her back. 'Oh well,'
she snapped. 'We're here now, so let's get it over with. Then maybe I can
get on with burying my poor uncle.
'Where do we go?'
T we to take you to Maggie Rose's office.' He held the door to the building
open for her.
'Will you come with me when I see them?'
'I don't think they'll allow that.'
She stopped in her tracks. 'What? In that case I'm not going to speak to
them. Take me home, right now.'
'Ruthie,' he pleaded. 'Don't be difficult. If I was them I wouldn't want
a man from another force sitting in either. But I've told you, it's just a
routine interview. So come on.'
She shot him a look. 'Okay. But you be here when they're finished with
me.
44
AUTOGRAPHS IN THE RAIN
'I will be, don't worry. We've got a date, remember.'
'What? Oh yes. We'll see how I feel after this. Who knows, I might be
right off policemen by then.'
He knew that she was serious, as he led her up the stairway which led to
the CID suite, rapping on the divisional commander's door and stepping
inside on her call. 'Ma'am. Ruth's here.'
Maggie Rose looked at him, unsmiling, and at his companion as she
stepped into the room. 'That's good; right on time.' The red-haired detective
superintendent nodded in the direction of two visitors who stood beside
her desk, a man and a woman. 'These are our colleagues from Strathclyde;
Detective Inspector Mackenzie and DS Dell. People, this is DS Pye, and
this is the lady you want to see.'
She looked at them, her expression suddenly sharp. 'This summons had
better be justified, otherwise you might find yourself having to explain to
Ms McConnell's boss.'
As the tall, dark Mackenzie smiled, his face took on an expression of
pure menace. Pye took an instant dislike to him, and wondered if, after all,
he should force his way into the interview. 'And who's that?' the man
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