20
'Don't take it to heart, Andy. You did wel do get anything out of the wee shit. I know Alee Linden. He's an honest operator, but very sharp.
If he'd turned up earlier you'd have got sod al.'
Martin's face twisted into a grimace. 'I know that, Bob, but I was so nearly there. He knows more than he told us. Plus, he's got something else up his sleeve, I'm sure. And he was that close to spil ing it, when that bloody lawyer turned up.
'When he made the arrest, Mario offered him the chance to cal someone, but he turned it down. We reckoned he was wetting himself so badly about the cocaine, he wasn't thinking too straight.'
'So how did Linden know about it, and where to find him?' asked Skinner.
'Sheer bad luck. Salmon's boss was trying to find him. One of the people he called was John Hunter. Old John laughed, and told him where he was. The Spotlight guy called his Scottish lawyer, who happens to be Linden.'
'Damn it,' said the DCC. 'And Linden happened to be available and not on the golf course. Life's a bugger at times.
'Here, you don't think it was Big Joanne's stuff, do you?'
'Not a chance. It was Salmon's, okay, but he's right. It'l be his word against hers. The Fiscal won't proceed against him. He's off every single hook, and free to carry on persecuting you.'
Skinner reached across the wooden garden table and slapped his friend lightly on the shoulder. 'Fuck him, Andy. He's not worth the bother. Let's concentrate on the main event; not on my self-inflicted troubles, but on finding poor wee, stolen Mark McGrath, and the evil bastard who took him.
'You say Salmon told you that my number was included in the second anonymous letter he received?'
'Right.'
'Did you believe him? I mean, he can't produce either letter. He could be lying.'
Andy Martin shook his head, taking a bite from one of the thick ham sandwiches which Skinner and Pamela had prepared. 'I believed him,' he said, after devouring the mouthful. 'The second phone cal on your tape knocked the feet from under him. He knew that it looked 72 bad for him. Just at that moment, he'd have shopped his granny to get off the hook.'
Bob stood up from the table, sandwich in hand, and began to pace, backwards and forwards across the slabbed area of his cottage garden.
'So what have we got?' he began. 'A mystery informant slipping Salmon damaging information about me, and giving him my phone number as well, so that he can real y wind me up by cal ing me at home to rub it in.
'A second man with my unlisted number, who calls me, specifically
– not the Press Association, or the tel y, or even our headquarters, but me – to tell me, in person, that he has Mark.' He stopped his pacing and looked back towards the table, first at Pamela, then at Martin. 'What are the chances, do you think, given the connection of the number, that our kil er is also Noel Salmon's anonymous source?'
'Pretty good, I'd have thought,' said Pamela.
'Could be,' said Martin. 'But in a sense that's irrelevant. The best lead we have is the number itself. If we can find out how our man came by it then we're close to finding him.'
Skinner chuckled. 'Unless he broke into Fettes to get it! That's been done before.' He sat down once more. 'No, but you're right.
Have a blitz on Telecom, and on our own telecommunications room.
Don't ruffle any feathers, but if there's anyone there who might be making a bit of extra cash by selling restricted numbers, find out.'
The Head of CID looked at his chief, as Pam Masters carried the empty plate back into the kitchen. 'Don't worry. It's already under way. If there's a bad apple in there, anywhere, I'l crush the last drop of juice out of him… or her, if it comes to that.'
'I'm sure you wil, Andy, I'm sure.
'Meanwhile, there are people down in London who are listening to that tape as careful y as they can. Not to the Salmon bit, but to the kidnapper's cal, analysing every fragment of sound on it, seeing if there's anything in the background that they can locate.'
'What are the chances?'
'To be truthful, not very good. I've listened to my copy time and time again, but I can only hear the guy's voice. Mind you, our London friends are working with the original, and can amplify sound to levels that only a very sharp-eared dog could pick up. If there's anything there, they'll find it.'
He stopped and looked towards the cottage. 'You did tellAlex you were coming out here again this afternoon, didn't you?' he asked, suddenly.
Andy nodded. 'She said she had some work that needed doing.'
'On a Sunday? Christ, she's only just started with that law firm.
They can't have her working weekends already, surely?'
'No, I think it was housework.'
Bob raised his eyebrows and stared across the table. 'Alex?
Housework?' He pointed upwards to aV-shaped formation of geese, flying westwards. 'What d'you think those are, Andy? Pigs?'
He shook his head. 'No, my daughter just didn't want to come.
Alex doesn't approve ofPam and me, does she?'
'Bob, that's between you and her.' Andy hesitated. 'But if I were you, I'd just let it lie for a while. She's said she'l support you, and she wil, but she's very fond of Sarah, and she was gutted when you two separated. She won't give you any more grief, but it'd be best if you let her come to terms with things in her own time.'
The older man stared at the sky again, back towards the geese as they wheeled round towards Aberiady Nature reserve, their nesting ground. 'Aye, you're right,' he murmured at last. 'The last thing I need is to fall out with our kid as well.'
Suddenly he glanced back across the table. 'And what about you, Andy? What about you? Do you approve of my new relationship?
After all, you've got a double interest, personal and professional.'
Abruptly, Martin stood up from the table. 'Let's go for a walk,' he said.
Skinner shook his head. 'I don't want to leave Pam. Not after Leona, and everything that's happened. Not with a madman on the loose.'
His friend smiled. 'Don't worry. You have very discreet protection.'
The DCC looked at him, surprised. 'I didn't ask for…'
'Well you bloody should have. My operational decision. End of story.'
'I'm stil not sure. There might be photographers out there.'
'Fuck 'em if there are. Let's go for a walk.'
'Yeah. Al right then.' With a last show of reluctance, Skinner rose also and took a few paces across to the open back door of the cottage.
'Pam,' he called, 'Andy and I are off for a strol. Back in half an hour or so. Remember. Keep the door shut, and let the machine answer the phone.'
There were no photographers in sight outside the cottage. As he closed the gate behind him and stepped between Andy's silver Mondeo and his own BMW, Bob glanced across the Goose Green.
At its lower end, near the back entrance to the Golf Inn hotel, a single car was parked; a nondescript, grey Escort, with a figure in the front passenger seat seemingly reading a newspaper.
'I've got another officer positioned round in the paddock,' said Martin quietly, catching the look. 'Between them they cover al approaches to the cottage.'
'Yes, that's enough. What are their orders if they see someone approaching the house?'
'They're to radio in and alert you, rather than tackling the suspect 74 and risking him getting away. Unless Pam's there alone, of course.
Then they'd go in.'
'What, you mean your game is to let him come at me?' asked Skinner, a grim edge to his voice.
'Yes,' said his colleague, with a quick grin, 'to give us the best chance of catching him. Not that I think it wil happen, but if it does, try to leave the guy in one piece. Please.'
They strol ed out of the green taking a narrow pathway beside the Episcopalian church, which led them through the golf club car park to the slopes of Gullane Hill. They trudged in silence up the steep road towards its summit, until at last they stood on a grassy knol which overlooked
the club's three courses, and all of the wide Forth estuary.
The two friends sat side by side on a memorial chair, gazing out to sea.
'Well, Andy,' said Bob at last, breathing only slightly heavily from the climb, 'what about it? What do you think of my indiscretion?
Give it to me straight.'
Martin hunched his broad shoulders, within his roomy sports jacket. 'If you insist. But first, tell me again how it came about. I don't mean the situation between you and Sarah: I know that arose out of your extreme views on questions of trust. I mean the thing between you and Pam.'
Bob leaned against the back of the bench seat. 'Like I said,' he began, 'it just happened. I was lonely, so was Pamela. We were thrown together by the job, and we were attracted to each other. Pam's divorced, I'm separated. When I realised how it was heading I transferred her out of my office…' he paused for a second,'… and into my bed.'
'How do you feel about each other?'
'Fond covers it, I think. Somehow, Pam seems to feel… safe.
She doesn't ask or threaten. D'you understand what I mean?'
'I think so. A once-bitten, twice-shy career woman. I can see why you'd feel safe with her.'
'Mmm,' Bob grunted. 'So come on, out with it.'
Andy drew in a deep breath of the fresh afternoon air, looking out at the grey sea, beneath the blue sky. 'Remember when I was younger
– not that long ago. I was a serial shagger, and no mistake. You used to tell me I had had more women than cooked breakfasts, and you were right.
'I always had to have a girlfriend because that was part of me, but as soon as I started to feel safe with them, I ran a mile in the opposite direction. Safety, in my view, is no basis for a relationship. Mere contentment shouldn't be enough.'
He glanced round, towards Skinner. 'Bob, you were never like I 75 used to be, nor wil you ever be. You couldn't philander to save your life. When you met Sarah, I was pleased for you. After more than fifteen years of widowhood you'd final y found a woman who was made for you. And I was as jealous as hel. Al of a sudden my own life seemed hollow, and I wanted so much to be like you.
'As you'll remember, that led me into one disastrous situation, before I realised that the only woman for me was right before my eyes. I just hadn't noticed that she'd grown up.'
He laughed, but sadly, without humour. 'So look at us now, you and me. My dream's come true. I've become like you were. I'm in love, settled and happy for the rest of my life. You? You're stumbling about like a lost soul.
'You talk about feeling safe, my old friend. Well, I think that's cobblers. I think you're on the fucking rebound, that's what. And I should know. It used to happen to me al the time. I rebounded from one to the next so often that I felt like a human pinball machine.
'You ask me what I think? Well here it is. I've nothing against Pam. She seems like a nice woman, and a couple of years back I'd probably have fancied her myself. But I love Sarah, and I think it's fucking tragic that you and she, between you, are in the process of tearing apart one of the best marriages I've ever seen.
'I don't often presume to speak forAlex, Bob, but I'l tell you that if you asked her, she would tell you that she feels exactly the same way.'
Skinner sat motionless on the bench, staring out across the wide Firth, over to the Fife coast, towards the string of one-time fishing vil ages, transformed by fashion and affluence into holiday resorts.
He sat there for minutes before responding, still without looking round.
'You're my best pal, Andy. Truth be told, one of the very few real friends I've ever had. I value your opinion, and I'm sorry that Sarah and I have caused you distress. You're right about our marriage; it seemed perfect. But remember that it's possible to shatter even a diamond into smithereens.
'However, as for Pam and me, we're sort of tied together now, by the Spotlight thing, and by this kil er's possible focus on me. I do care for her too, make no mistake.
'I couldn't just abandon her, even if I wanted to. I accept what you say, about my being on the rebound. Sure, I know that I let my cock do my thinking for me. I suppose I just needed to be told, and only you could do that. But it's happened, and things may have gone beyond redemption now, between me and Sarah.'
He looked around, at last. 'Right, that was your personal view.
How do you see it professionally?'
Martin frowned. 'You sure you want to hear?'
'Aye, Chief Superintendent. I can take it. Fire away.'
'Very good, sir.
'You used the word earlier: indiscretion.
'However you justify it, and however properly you think you acted, by transferring Pamela out of your office before your slept with her, I believe that you've laid yourself wide open to accusations of indiscretion… at the very least.
'I know you've said in the past that your officers' sex lives are their business, as long as it's legal, but you're no ordinary copper.
You're going to be accused of abuse of your position, and maybe even sexual harassment, by at least two female members of the Police Board that I could name, and the Chief is going to have some bloody job defending you.'
Skinner sighed. 'You saying I should resign, Andy?' he asked, sombrely.
'Like hell! If the Board asks for your resignation they'll have mine too, not to mention the Chief's and those of half a dozen senior officers. No, you'l ride it out. Your real worry should be Pamela.'
The big DCC frowned. 'Tell me why'
'Think about it. Is this relationship going to last for ever, or will it come to an end? Any way you size it up, she has no future in our force. Working in my office, she's just about okay as the DCC's girlfriend, as long as you keep your private lives miles away from Fettes. But she can't stay there for ever. How would she survive in a division? Who among her colleagues would trust her with a confidence?
'Suppose in the future you were to marry? No, Pam's position would be completely untenable.'
Martin paused. 'On the other hand, what wil happen if it comes to an end? How do you expect the girl to survive as the Deputy Chief's cast-off mistress?'
'Jesus,' said Skinner loudly enough to draw a frown from a golfer on the seventh tee, thirty yards away. 'I really have made a nonsense of things, haven't I? So what do we do to protect her?'
'You know the options as well as I do,' said Martin. 'If you and Pam decide to marry, I expect she'd want to resign. If that doesn't happen, if you carry on as you are, informally shall we say, and she wants to stay in the police, we should offer her a transfer to another force – Central, maybe, so she could still live in Edinburgh. Should you split up, the same would apply.'
There was a renewed silence at the other end of the bench. 'Let's not discuss the first option, Andy,' the DCC responded finally, this time in a quiet voice. 'Put feelers out regarding the second, once this Spotlight business has blown over. I'l talk to Pam about it, in due course.
'Meantime, I'd be grateful if you'd give her a week's leave, as of now. I'll take her back to her place in Leith tomorrow. It'll be easier for the watchers, and more discreet.'
'Do you want to take some time off yourself?'
'Do I bloody hell! The media would say I'd been sent on gardening leave. Anyway, I'm going nowhere til we've nailed down the bastard who killed Leona McGrath, and till we've got wee Mark back safely.'
Skinner stood up, looking down at his friend. 'You know, son,' he chuckled. 'I'm general y reckoned to be quite a smart guy, ace detective and all that; but over the last few months of my life, I've been made to realise that when it comes to women, I just haven't a bloody clue!'
21
Ruth McConnell was at her desk when Skinner arrived at 8.20 a.m. on Monday, for his first morning in the office since the Spotlight story had broken.
'Good morning, sir,' she said, with exactly the same friendly smile to which he had become accustomed.
The DCC glanced at his watch. 'Jeez, but you're early, Ruthie,' he said.
'I
thought it might be a good idea,' she replied, standing up from her typist's swivel chair, elegant as ever, the slimness of her long legs accentuated by her tight skirt and her high heels. She picked up a pile of newspapers from her side table. 'There's fresh coffee in your filter machine.'
'I'll need it, when I go through those. Come in and have some with me. I should talk to you anyway.'
'Have you seen any of the papers yet?' asked his secretary, as they crossed the corridor to his office.
The big policeman shook his head. 'No. We left Gullane before mine arrived.' His expression changed for a second as a thought struck him. 'That reminds me. Would you cal my newsagent, please, and cancel them till further notice. He's in the book.
Surname's Hector.'
He took off the jacket of his dark blue suit and draped it round the back of his chair, while Ruth poured coffee into two mugs.
'So,' said Skinner as she sat down, facing him across the rosewood desk. 'What do you think of my new-found notoriety?'
'I think it's absolutely disgraceful, sir,' the woman exploded, her ful lips pouting in her anger. 'I think it's offensive, intrusive, and damned unfair. Even if I've never said it to you, I'm as sorry as everyone else in here about your marriage breaking up, but that's your business.
'To have your private life poked into like that… Well, it's intolerable!'
'I have to tolerate it, Ruthie. No choice. I can roar on about what I'm going to do to the so-and-so who put that wee swine Salmon on my trail, but I just have to bear it.'
'Yes,' she said, 'but it's the double standards that get me. I mean, 79 if it had been Neil Mcllhenney having an affair with Sergeant Masters, he wouldn't have been al over the front page.'
Skinner surprised her, with his sudden laughter. 'Oh yes he would!' he said. 'Because Olive would have kil ed him, stone dead.'
His smile faded as quickly as it had appeared. 'No, you're right.
But that's the way it is. Sergeant and Sergeant; so what? Deputy Chief and Sergeant, and the press eat it up. I'm a daft bastard. I should have known better.'
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