from the Police Board, she was still around and capable of making mischief.
Still, he had been enjoying his period of peace, until that damned Civic
Reception, at which the ACC's wife had made her debut and had behaved
in front of Sarah Skinner, and even Chrissie, by God, as if she was Lady
Chase already.
Fervently, the Chief Constable wished that he could discontinue his
informal Tuesday management sessions with Skinner and Chase; that he
could see them separately, but not together. However, he knew that that
would only have widened the rift.
164
AUTOGRAPHS IN THE RAIN
Now, as he looked at Chase sipping his coffee as if he wanted to get
it and the last chocolate digestive biscuit, out of the way, he could sense
a'new storm well over the horizon, some heavy rain about to fall on his
life.
'Okay, Ted,' he sighed. 'I can read the signs by now. Stop bristling; out
with it.'
The ACC looked at him as if he had been caught sneaking a biscuit out
of turn. 'I'm sorry, sir, if I appeared on edge. It's just that there are a couple
of points I have to raise this afternoon, and I have a feeling that they may
provoke a reaction.'
'Oh yes,' said Skinner, not helping the situation by smiling. 'And what
are they, Ted?'
Chase continued to look at Sir James, ignoring his colleague's grin. 'I'm
finding it increasingly difficult to share a secretary with the deputy, sir. I
don't know how much work my predecessor generated, but I really am
finding it difficult to secure enough of Miss McConnell's time for my needs.
'This week, for example, Mcllhenney seems to be out of the office for
long periods, and McConnell is having to cover for his absence. Why I was in her office yesterday, giving her dictation tapes, when the DCC buzzed.
She simply jumped up, excused herself and left the room.
'It's just not good enough, sir. I insist either that she is replaced or that I
am allocated a secretary of my own.'
Skinner's smile vanished; Proud sighed inwardly as the first figurative
raindrops began to fall. 'Don't you ever...' The words fell not far short of
a snarl. '... suggest again, mister, that Ruth should be moved out.'
The DCC paused, waiting for Chase to return his gaze, but the ACC
continued to look firmly at Sir James.
'Okay,' he exclaimed, eventually, Til support your request for a secretary
of your own.' Chase's head seemed to turn on a swivel. 'But Jack Good has
to go.'
For a second or two, the Cumbrian's mouth worked like a goldfish tipped
on to a kitchen counter. 'But, but...
'Absolutely no way,' he protested, turning back to Proud Jimmy for
support.
'Sir, do I or do I not have the right to appoint my own personal staff?'
The Chief Constable studied his desk. 'As I recall Ted, you have a say in
H; that much is certainly true. Of course,' he added, freezing the ACC's
smirk. 'There are cost considerations. How would it be if we gave you your
own secretary, and replaced Inspector Good with a promising young
sergeant?'
T couldn't accept that. I chose Good; I have great regard for his abilities.'
'Well, no other bastard does!' Skinner boomed. 'The man's your sneak.
Do you think I don't know that? Do you think I don't know that you've had
him going round out-stations, and even some principal divisional offices,
making snap inspections and reporting back to you?
'The bugger's even been checking on CID. He wandered into Dan
Pringle's office last week in his well-pressed uniform; all that was missing,
,apparently, was a swagger stick. Dan advised him to fuck off, but I'll bet he
"didn't tell you that.'
'Well?' Chase exclaimed, raising his voice. 'I am responsible for
operations; why shouldn't my exec. act on my behalf in visiting stations
and asking whether they have any operational problems which we can help
them solve?'
'In principle, because you shouldn't have an inspector even appearing
to be checking up on a chief super. In practice because this one's a twat!'
'Chief!' the ACC shouted. 'I object to that language. What can the DCC
have against Jack to mistreat a junior officer in that manner?'
Sir James sat quietly in his chair. Skinner, with an effort, hauled on the
frayed reins of his temper. 'If you had consulted Jimmy, or me,' he said
evenly, 'or anyone else before you were blinded by the shine of his shoes
and the gleam of his badge, we'd have bloody told you.
'Jack Good's wife is an executive on the Scotsman; and she has him by
the balls. We've had three serious leaks to that paper in the last few years,
and Good is suspected of being the source, inadvertent or otherwise, in
every instance. That's why he was stuck in the Operations Room for the
duration, and only allowed out on special occasions as a bloody ornament.
'Then you swan in like a guardian angel and pluck him out of there.'
'You might have told me,' Chase complained.
'You didn't give us a chance. Once you'd appointed him, we couldn't
simply say "no". We've got nothing we can pin on him; we had decided to
keep him out of the heart of the action. There was nothing wrong with that,
by the way; his record as an officer warranted his previous posting.'
The ACC sat back in his chair, silenced for the moment. Then a strange
look came into his eyes; looking at him, Sir James Proud saw, for the first
time, a sign of malevolence in him.
'Good has his uses,' he said quietly. 'For example, this morning he
I
AUTOGRAPHS IN THE RAIN
, back to me on a visit he paid, on my instruction, to the telecommunications
department.
'H told me that he had found a number of very odd installations made by that department over the last couple of days. Specifically, we have just
t lied a state-of-the-art alarm system in a house in the Craiglockhart
a of Edinburgh. This is linked not only to the Torphichen Place Divisional
Office but also to a private address in the same area. On checking, Good
discovered that it is the home of Detective Inspector Mcllhenney.
'The installations were made on the personal instruction of the Deputy
Chief Constable.
'Further investigation on Good's part revealed that the house in which
the alarm system is fitted was leased yesterday to a film production company;
the signatory of the lease was one Louise Bankier, an actress.'
Once more Chase focused his gaze on the Chief Constable, as he produced
a single sheet of paper from a folder on his lap. 'Here, sir, is a cutting from
Saturday's Evening News, which appears to link this woman with a senior
police officer, who is unmistakably our colleague, Mr Skinner.
'Chief Constable, the inescapable conclusion is that the Deputy Chief
has been using police resources to provide sequestrated accommodation
for his lady friend during her stay in Edinburgh.'
As Sir James Proud looked at Bob Skinner, he saw the colour drain from
his face. He pushed himself to his feet with surprising speed and glared
sternly at Chase. 'Thank you, Ted,' he said. 'Now leave the room ... at
once.'
<
br /> The ACC stood, a smile of unconstrained triumph on his face, and slipped
out of the side exit.
As the door closed, Proud Jimmy looked at the ceiling. 'Sorry about
that, Bob,' he exclaimed. 'But at that moment, I thought you were going to
kill him.'
Skinner was so enraged that he was breathing slightly heavily. 'At that
moment, Jimmy, I might have. Even now, you may only have given him a
stay of execution.'
The Chief dropped into the chair behind his desk. 'What the hell am I
going to do about that man?' he said.
'Bring it to a head,' the DCC snapped. 'Put his paper to the Board,
argue against it, and have it squashed. In the minutes, it'll read like a
reprimand.'
'But what if they back it?'
166
'They won't. You still have enough on enough of them for them to be
afraid to cross you. If I'm wrong about that... Well, I won't be taking any
orders from that fucking blackshirt; I'll tell you that much.'
He sighed. 'But listen, that's trivial. My big problem is that Good knows
about Lou, and that is dangerous given his suspected weakness for pillow
talk. You know the whole story, because I told you straight away; I was
hoping to avoid it, because I just don't trust the man, but now Chase has to
be let in on it as well.
'You speak to him, if you will. I'll handle Jack Good; when it comes to
putting the fear of God in people, you'll concede that I'm better at it than
you.'
The Chief let out a sound that was half chuckle, half snort. 'You do that;
then I'll send him back to the Ops Room tomorrow.'
'No,' said Skinner quietly. 'Keep him here until this is over; I want him
close, where he can feel my hot breath on his neck, even though Chase
won't dare send him out of this office again. Meantime, give the ACC a
typist, just to keep him happy.'
168
48
In a strange, private way Neil Mcllhenney was in awe of his daughter, of
her calmness, her maturity, and her remarkable common sense for her years.
Since Olive's death, she had replaced her mother as the rock upon which
his life was founded.
Therefore it was quite remarkable to see her in awe of someone else.
Louise Bankier had not just come for dinner; she had provided it. King
size specials from Pizza Hut had been delivered ten minutes after Neil had
brought her round from her secluded address, and she had insisted on giving
Spencer the money to pay for them.
They had eaten them, cut into wedges round the dining table, father and
children, Marie the temporarily living-in nanny, and their guest.
Lauren had said very little during the meal; for once Spencer had gone
unchecked as he had made the running with a series of quick-fire
questions which ran the gamut of the movie industry, from Tom and Jerry
to Tom Hanks. As Neil had watched her he realised that she in turn was
studying Louise, a vivacious, vibrant female presence restored
unexpectedly to her young life. He could not begin to read, far less
understand all the thoughts which were swirling around in her pre
adolescent mind. However, he was reminded of something that his own
grief, and their bravery, made him overlook too easily; the extent to which
they too must miss their mother.
As they prepared to leave, Lauren and Spencer stood politely, ready to
wish their guest goodbye. In keeping with the rest of the evening, the
youngest Mcllhenney had the last word. 'Dad's taking us skating in Princes
Street Gardens on Saturday,' he said. 'Would you like to come too?'
Hey Spence,' said his father with a grin. 'Don't push your luck.'
How did you know I like skating?' Louise responded. 'Of course I'll c°me ... if your dad lets me. I have to do what he says, you know.'
he children seemed to look up at him with a new kind of respect. 'Okay,' e sai- 'As long as you continue to remember one thing; that Ms Bankier
AUTOGRAPHS IN THE RAIN
being here is not to be talked about at school, or to anyone outside this
room. Understood?'
Spencer nodded. Lauren simply said, 'Father!', throwing him an old
young reproving look that he had seen so often before, and which never
failed to tug at his heart.
Louise laughed. 'It's a date then. Hot dogs on your dad!'
He whistled as they stepped out into the moonless sodium-lit night. 'Add
two more names to the fan-club,' he said.
Two?'
'I always was a fan,' he murmured.
'That's good to know,' she answered, as he opened the car door for her.
'Where are we going, then?' she asked, as he slid into his seat beside
her. 'Somewhere discreet, you said.'
'Yes; and somewhere I'll feel comfortable in the dark.'
'Where are you going to find an empty cinema in this town?'
'I'm not, but wait and see the next best thing.'
They had been driving for less than ten minutes, when Neil turned off
Morningside Road, and parked close to a small, but well-lit cinema, one of
the old-fashioned kind, rather than a modern multiplex. 'This is where I
take the kids: the Dominion. We're going to Cinema Three; it's about the
size of your average living room.
'You really don't mind going to American Beauty'? I mean, you must
have seen it.'
'No, honestly, I haven't,' she said. 'You may find this odd, but I don't go
to the movies much.'
He led her quickly past two short queues of cinema-goers and past the
box office. 'I picked up the tickets earlier,' he explained, 'and I had a quiet
word with the manager. The only things I asked was that we go in first, so
that I can eyeball the rest of the audience. There only are a couple of dozen
seats, though.'
She said nothing, but looked sideways at him with a quiet smile.
Two and a half hours later, they stepped back out into the foyer. This
time there was no slipping unnoticed past the crowd. Word had spread and
scores of people were waiting, holding diaries, leaflets, future attraction
fliers, scraps of paper, anything that would accommodate an autograph.
Neil stood back as she signed, studying every person as they stepped up,
noting the time she spent with every one, and the interest she seemed to
take in them all.
170
Finally it was over. As they stepped outside, he asked her, 'Is it like that
every time?'
'Pretty much,' she said, linking her arm through his as they headed for
the car. She chuckled, enigmatically. 'But at least, tonight it isn't raining.'
49
Stevie Steele didn't mind Newcastle, but he did have a strong aversion to
wild geese. As he stood in the street outside the St James Internet Cafe, he
fancied that he heard a fluttering of wings.
He had spent a good part of the previous day in front of a screen, studying
the jerky images provided by the Balmoral Hotel's video security system,
trying to put a face to Louise Bankier's stalker. Trying in vain.
Yes, there had been that one image; a slim man of medium height wearing
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