The normally affable Chief Constable frowned slightly.
'I happened to be in the office on Sunday when the document arrived.
Since it was marked urgent I took it upon myself to open it, in your absence.
I took it upon myself also to show it to the DCC, and to discuss it with
him.'
'Did you not think you were taking rather a lot on yourself, Ted?' asked
Sir James. 'You've only been here ten minutes, and five of them must have
been taken up writing that paper of yours on the command structure of the
force.'
'I exercised my judgement, sir. That's all I can say.'
'Even though for all you knew this could have been a report from the
Security Services exposing you as an Iraqi spy?'
'All the more reason for me to open it, sir.'
Proud Jimmy laughed. 'Aye, maybe so. Anyway, Ted, you've explained
everything. I get this daft report about Bob, which you've already showed
to him. In the same in-tray, I find this grovelling apology from the bloke
who wrote it. You don't have to tell me what happened when Bob read the
bloody nonsense. Even Assistant Commissioners aren't beyond his reach.'
'Yes,' Chase concurred. 'He does seem to have his own power-base,
doesn't he.'
The silver-haired Chief Constable looked at his Assistant for a few
seconds. 'Maybe you didn't mean that remark to have a barb in it, Ted. If
you did, please desist. I have your paper under consideration, and I am
taking it seriously. I'm seized of your underlying point that criminal
investigation is only one of the responsibilities of a modern police force
and should not be allowed to dominate it. So, incidentally, is Bob Skinner.
He and I have discussed that very concept on many occasions.
However, I and I alone will decide what happens to your document, and
I'll do it in my own good time. So just leave it at that, eh?'
'Very good, sir, but I really didn't mean anything by my last remark.'
'Good. Then forgive me for reading anything into it.' Sir James paused.
'Want a coffee?'
Chase took the invitation as an order; he nodded and followed the Chief
back to his own office.
'Do you happen to know where Bob is anyway, Ted?' Proud Jimmy
glanced across the table as Gerry Crossley set a coffee pot and crockery on
his low table.
'Not really, sir. I asked Miss McConnell, but she said simply that he had
an appointment out of the office.'
'Mmm. I asked her too. She said all she knew was that he had to see
someone through in Strathclyde. That's funny. I'm not saying it's unique,
but it's unusual for Ruth not to know exactly what he's doing.
'Unless she does, and for some reason she's not telling.'
He smiled, almost to himself. 'If she does .. . Well, sometimes it's best
not to know what that bugger's up to.'
62
16
'If God had meant people to play golf in this valley, he wouldn't have put
the prevailing wind in this direction. It can be as cold as charity here, in the
middle of summer.'
'Have you played Dullatur, sir?' Mackenzie asked.
'No, but I have played the course across the road, Westerwood. Middle
of June it was, and fucking freezing. This one won't be any different. The
west of Scotland new towns, East Kilbride and Cumbernauld, were
established on land within easy reach of Glasgow but where no major
community had grown up before. The planner should have realised that
that was no accident. EK's always snowed up in the winter, and
Cumbernauld's swept by this bloody Arctic wind.'
'You sound as if you're from the west, sir.'
'Motherwell. I dug an escape tunnel twenty-five years ago.'
'Would you ever come back?'
Bob Skinner shook his head. 'Not to live,' he said, vehemently. T like
Gullane, and my family are happy there. But crime tends to move around;
I'll go wherever it takes me. I'm a specialist policeman, Bandit, just like
you. My Chief Constable and I have long philosophical discussions about
that. His strengths complement mine; he couldn't run today's force without
me, or another specialist like me, and I couldn't run one without someone
like him.'
'Aye but how does that help the punters, sir?' the younger man interposed,
showing a renewed trace of his customary brashness. 'Red tape's always
fucking up our job.'
Skinner looked sideways at him. 'See? There is a brain hiding behind
that designer raincoat of yours. That's a bloody good question. Should we
have separate bodies, one responsible for public protection and the
maintenance of order, and the other charged with criminal investigation?
'If I was a politician, which thank God I am not, because I distrust the
bastards totally, I would answer "yes", and do something about it. However,
they do tell me that I can move and shake things, so you never know.'
Mackenzie picked up a bacon roll from the table before them. Til watch
developments, sir.' He took a bite. 'Why did you want me to bring you
here?' he asked.
'Several reasons. I missed my breakfast to come through and sort you
out, so you owe me one. Old John McConnell was a member here, so I
wanted to get a feel for the place. As it turns out you're a member too, so
that was handy. On top of all that I wanted to get you out of that office, to
see if I could kick-start your thinking on this investigation.
lAfter all, I've just blown your easy assumption right out the window.
So maybe I owe you one.'
He looked around the members' lounge. 'Impressive place this is, David,
for an ordinary urban golf club ... if you don't mind me saying so.'
Mackenzie nodded agreement. 'Too right.' He pointed to his right out
across the first tee, where two golfers stood in weather-suits, ready to set
off into the wind and rain. 'The original clubhouse was away down there.
The New Town Development Corporation, before it was wound up, did a
complicated land deal with us which involved them building this place for
us, plus laying out some new holes as well.'
'Good deal.'
'Aye, sir. Everybody won, I'd say.'
As he spoke a door behind him opened. An elderly man in casual clothing
walked into the room, holding a cup of coffee. 'Morning,' he said, nodding
towards the players outside. 'Rather them than us the day, eh gents?'
'Too right,' Skinner agreed. 'You wouldn't get me out on a morning like
this.'
'Ye don't look as if ye're here to play anyway, though,' the old man
observed.
'No, we're not, although my colleague here's a member. Actually we're
police officers; we were just talking about poor old John McConnell.'
The veteran grimaced. 'Aye, damn shame that. Poor old John; he'll be
missed. Him such a fit man, too, tae go downhill so fast.'
'How d'you mean?' Mackenzie asked.
'Well he jist did. He used tae play every day. Ye'd have found him out
the day, even. Then about four months ago, he started missing days, until
he wisnae here at all. Ah heard fae somebody that went tae see him that he
was jist sitting there in his hoose, fair wandered.
'That Alzheimer's, eh. It'
s jist as well he's awa' quick.'
64
AUTOGRAPHS IN THE RAIN
'Yes, I suppose it is,' Skinner murmured, waving a brief farewell to the
senior member as he wandered across to a table on the far side of the big
lounge.
'Interesting,' he said, his voice still low. 'I envy you this one, Bandit.
It's a real challenge.'
'Too right. But where do I start?'
'Come on, man; you start at the beginning. Who knows so far, apart
from us, that this is a murder investigation? No bugger does. Well, it's time
they did. Call in the press; tell them that you're starting a full-scale
investigation.
'Re-canvass the neighbours while their memories are still reasonably
fresh. The dark-haired woman; you know who she isn't, so get a better
description of her to help you find out who she is. Try to establish what
make and model of car she was driving.
'Then there are the missing possessions: grandfather clock; big silver
trophy. They'll be somewhere: find them. After you've apologised profusely
to Ruth,' he leaned on the adverb, 'ask her to go through the house to see
what else might be missing. If that doesn't help look at the whole scene in
a mirror.
'Look into his bank accounts to see what was happening there.'
Mackenzie frowned. 'I know that already, sir.'
'Fine, in that case, go back to everyone who spoke to old John before his
death. Turn up people you haven't even looked for yet. Did he have any
interests other than golf? Find out what was happening to him.
'I will bet you one thing, Detective Inspector Mackenzie. Even suppose
that was a district nurse who went into his house that Saturday, that old boy
didn't have Alzheimer's. He's been a victim of something all right, but it
was man- or woman-made.'
UTOGRAPHS IN THE RAIN
17
'Sir Adrian Watson. Sure, I'll remember that name, Dan, and yes, I'll pass
itpn to the Chief, and the DCC too, just in case.'
Thanks, Andy. Not that anything happened that I couldn't justify to
myself, but threatening to nail him to the fucking wall might look bad if he
wrote to the Scotsman, or got his tame Lib Dem MSP to raise a question in
the Scottish Parliament.'
'I'd be surprised if he did. But what about this chap Gates? How would
he swing if Watson did get stroppy?'
'Gates told me the first time I met him that he recommended that Watson
should follow John McGrigor's advice and install an automatic security
system, but he was advised, bluntly, to wind his neck in. I could tell that
inside the boy was cheering when I gave Sir Adrian the benefit of my own
advice.
'Nonetheless, he's an employee. And he did hear me threaten
Watson.'
'Presumably he also heard Watson threaten you.'
'Aye, but he might forget, though. Look, I'm no' that worried about it,
Andy. I'm just telling you in case there was any comeback that might cause
embarrassment.'
'I appreciate that, Dan. Leave it with me; I'll deal with it. Cheers.'
Andy Martin ended the call, then buzzed his junior assistant, Detective
Constable Rhind. 'Lorna,' he said. 'I want you to trace a number for Sir
Adrian Watson. He's a landowner down in the Borders. Get him on the line
for me, please.'
He turned to Detective Sergeant Pye, who was seated across the desk,
waiting. 'Sorry about all that, Sam. You probably gathered; Dan Pringle's
had his first run-in with the local Establishment down on his patch.'
Pye grunted. 'And he's been there for a week, already; I'm surprised it
took him so long, sir.'
The Head of CID laughed. The too. But it proves us right in sending him
Adown there. Nothing against big John, but the division needed shaking up a
bit, needed his successor to be a different sort. We could have sent Brian
Mackie down there, and the place would have fitted him like a glove, but
the DCC and I reckoned that Dan's occasional lack of diplomacy made him
best suited for it.'
'Oh, I get it, sir. He does the plain speaking, with you in the background
to smooth over any incidents.'
The phone rang. 'Yes. As you're about to hear.'
He picked it up. 'Sir Adrian? Good; Detective Chief Superintendent
Andy Martin, Head of CID. I thought I'd give you a call
Pye, across the desk, saw his boss pause and nod.
'Yes, Superintendent Pringle's told me about your discussion. Yes,
sure . . .
'Dan's a plain-spoken man, sir, and he's spent most of his career in the
city. But there's no better, or more committed, detective officer on this
force . . .
'I'm glad you appreciate that, sir. I'm sure you'll appreciate also that he
didn't intend to threaten you, any more, I doubt not, than you meant to give
the impression that you were threatening him, or were dismissive of his
efforts and those of his officers . ..
'No, of course not. We have a simple operating principle in dealing with
the public: equality for all under the law. Every law-abiding citizen can
expect the same treatment from us, sir, and no individual is subjected to
inappropriate scrutiny, unless he or she is suspected of committing a crime
or offence, or unless we have reason to believe they may be about to commit
one ...
'Why should I believe otherwise, sir? I played rugby in the Borders
many times in my career. I've been in many a club bar after many a match
... I may even have seen you once or twice. And I can't recall ever seeing
anyone have an excessive amount to drink and get into a car .. .'
Pye searched Martin's face for any sign of sarcasm but found only bland
innocence.
'Sure, Sir Adrian: a slight excess of zeal. Yes, of course I'll convey your
apologies to Dan also. I'm glad you see it that way, and I'm pleased that
you're so supportive of the work we're doing to trace these thieves . . .
'And good afternoon to you too, sir.'
He replaced the receiver. There you are, Sam,' he said. 'Smoothed over.
And I never told a single porky either.'
66
'What! What about never seeing anyone in a rugby club get into a car
over the limit?'
Martin grinned. 'I never looked. Anyway, although I didn't play for all
that long after I joined the force, word gets round if there's a copper in the
bar.
'I do remember Watson, by the way; he was pointed out to me at a club
once. Real arsehole, and he was pissed as a rat.'
He swung round in his chair to face Pye. 'So, Sergeant. Why's your face
been tripping you all morning? ... as if I had to ask.'
" 'You know?'
'Of course I bloody know. Superintendent Rose called me as soon as
Mackenzie and Dell had left last night; she told me what had happened.
Then about an hour-and-a-half later, after you and Ruth had been to see the
Big Man, he phoned me, absolutely fucking incandescent with anger.
'What was on that tape Ruth played him? He wouldn't tell me.'
The young detective winced. Then don't ask me to tell you either, sir.'
'That bad, eh. It could be "Goodbye Mr Mackenzie", then. Because the
said
DI had a surprise early morning visit from DCC Skinner, cleared in
advance with Max Albright, the Strathclyde Head of CID... I phoned him
this morning, just in case another diplomatic mission was necessary.
'Max said that Big Bob called him at home last night... I knew he was
going to ... and asked formal permission to jump on Mackenzie's toes
from a great height. He told me he said to go ahead, please, because the
bloke's been in need of it for a while, only he couldn't find an excuse.'
Martin leaned back in his chair and grinned at Pye. 'Then, just before
Dan's conscience call from the Borders, the DCC phoned me from his car,
on his way back through here. Ruth's off the hook, Sam, with a grovel from
the Bandit as well. He said we should listen to the news any time after
midday.'
He checked his watch. 'It's close on twelve thirty now.' He reached
back to a small table to switch on a small Sorry radio. Before he could do
Autographs in the Rain Page 9