Bob Skiinner 21 Grievous Angel

by Quintin Jardine

  Leggat winced. ‘So the investigation’s stalled?’

  ‘As of this moment, it is. We have to hope now that the victims have left something behind that links them to the guy who paid them to do the job. Fred, I didn’t raise any of this last night, because the situation was developing, and because I didn’t want anyone thinking I was telling them how to do their job, but now I’d like you to get on to DI Ciaran McFaul in Newcastle and ask him if he can get us access to the phone records of the three dead men, and also to the call logs of their mobile phones. I’m assuming that they had them; it seems to be de rigueur these days for hoodlums to use pay-as-you-go mobiles, in the belief that they’re untraceable.’

  I didn’t say anything to them about my potential dropped clanger with Tony Manson. It wasn’t for sharing at that time. ‘Do that,’ I continued, ‘and ask him to send us copies of the post-mortem reports for our case files.’

  ‘Do they belong there, boss?’ Adam asked.

  ‘Of course they do,’ I retorted, just a wee bit sharply. Poor Jeff didn’t have a lot of luck around me. ‘Whatever the Tyneside boys may think, this is our inquiry. We started off looking for the people who killed Marlon Watson, and we found Milburn and Shackleton, and through them Church. As of yesterday we were looking to thumbscrew out of them the identity of the man who set them on him. He was our ultimate target. Now the three Geordies have been silenced. Who else did it? He did. The hired hands have been taken out of the game, but the employer remains, the man we’ve always been after. So you see, Jeff, nothing has changed. It’s a continuous investigation, so Northumbria CID and ourselves are looking for the same man.’

  Fortunately, DS Adam wasn’t as smart as Andy Martin. It didn’t occur to him to ask why it had taken almost a week for them to be taken out of the game.

  I headed for the door. ‘I’m off out,’ I told Leggat. ‘Call to make.’ I smiled as I left them, feeling vaguely like a German spy. I’d just recalled a great line from a marvellous old war movie, Ice Cold in Alex, something along the lines of, ‘When a man takes a walk in the desert with a spade, never ask him where he’s going.’ You should see it sometime, if you haven’t.

  I drove out to Barnton, enjoying the roominess of the Discovery, in contrast to Martin’s space capsule. I switched on the radio, hoping to catch a news bulletin. Airburst FM’s morning presenter was in full cry, his voice a frantic, kiddie contrast to Mia’s mellow, much more adult tones. I gave him the bum’s rush and switched to Radio Forth, which represented my Edinburgh, not that of another generation. I was still bitter over the way the morning had begun. I found myself hoping that Mia would phone, so that I could release my verbal safety catch and let her have both barrels. Hell hath few furies like a man who’s just been left standing in a woman’s bedroom with his clothes bunched in his hands, doing his best to leave with dignity.

  I knew the routine at Manson’s place second time round; I showed myself to the camera and, after a few seconds, the fancy gates swung wide. But I wasn’t prepared for the changing of the guard. I hadn’t reached the door when it was opened, not by either of the boys I’d seen before, but by Lennie Plenderleith.

  ‘Morning, Mr Skinner,’ he greeted me, as quiet and polite as ever. In those days, I used to wonder occasionally what the other side of Lennie was like, but I always decided that I didn’t really want to know, unless it was unavoidable. I’d never sought my reputation as a hard man . . . and I knew I had one, make no mistake. It had been bestowed on me by the folly of others who’d thought they were tough themselves, and word had spread.

  ‘Morning, Lennie,’ I replied. ‘Is the boss in?’ The Bentley had been outside, so I’d assumed that he was.

  ‘Yes. He saw you on the screen; he’s waiting for you in his office. Go on through.’

  Unescorted, I followed the invitation, and entered Tony’s sanctum. My second surprise in as many minutes: he wasn’t alone. He was at his desk, and seated alongside him as if she was taking dictation was Bella Watson. The sight of her sent me, mentally, straight back into her daughter’s bedroom, but I got myself out of there in a hurry before irritation showed on my face.

  ‘Hello, Detective Superintendent Skinner,’ Manson exclaimed, affably. The clarity of his enunciation made me suspicious.

  I jerked a thumb back in the direction of the door, and raised a questioning eyebrow.

  He understood. ‘I got rid of the A Team,’ he told me. ‘Pair of fucking wankers. Without their shooters they were useless, as you proved. The big man on his own is worth three or four of them, so I asked myself, why am I spending more money than I need? I don’t like having him guard my door, though. He’s miles too good for that. To tell you the truth,’ he mused, ‘I wish I could put him somewhere safe; being around me can be risky.’ It was interesting; I’d never seen him in such a contemplative mood before. ‘Anyway,’ he continued, ‘once I’d decided to move him in for a few days, it made sense to move Bella in here too.’

  ‘I was goin’ tae call you,’ she said, sourly. ‘When will I be able to arrange Marlon’s funeral?’

  ‘As far as I’m concerned,’ I replied, as I occupied the chair that faced across the desk, ‘you can do it now. It’s not my call, but I don’t think the fiscal’s office will object. They might not let you cremate him, but it should be okay to have a burial.’ I couldn’t resist having a go. ‘It won’t be a very big affair, though,’ I added. ‘Just you and Tony and Lennie, by the looks of it. I don’t see your daughter turning up, not after you putting the black on her.’

  ‘She’ll no’ be missed,’ Bella hissed. ‘Jumped-up wee tart.’

  ‘Mother of the Year,’ I laughed, then turned back to her boss and mentor. ‘With two extra mouths to feed you must be running short of groceries,’ I said. ‘I think Lennie should take Bella to Safeway to stock up. Don’t worry, you’ll still be protected. I’m here.’

  He understood me; I’d come for a very private chat. ‘Aye, okay,’ he responded. He reached into the top drawer of his desk and produced a roll of twenties, peeled off a few and handed them to Bella. ‘On you go,’ he told her.

  ‘Ah checked this mornin’,’ she protested. ‘We don’t need anything.’

  ‘Well go tae the fuckin’ casino then,’ he snapped, ‘but go somewhere.’

  She flounced out, all legs and attitude. For the first time I could see that she was her daughter’s mother.

  Manson grinned as the door closed on her. ‘Now you see why I don’t have her move in,’ he chuckled. ‘What a fuckin’ life that would be. What’s that daughter of hers like then? I’ve only heard her on the radio. And what was that about her blackmailing her?’

  ‘Mia’s also a piece of work,’ I replied. ‘The other was a family misunderstanding that’s been sorted out now.’

  ‘Ah,’ the gangster murmured. ‘Miss Sparkles doesnae want anyone to know where she’s from. I get it. I don’t blame the lassie either. I must pay more attention to her.’

  ‘I wouldn’t, if I were you.’

  There was something in my eyes and he read it. ‘Oh aye,’ he exclaimed. ‘Is the detective superintendent warning me off? Has he been there himself?’ He chuckled. ‘I think he has, I think he has indeed.’

  ‘Turn the tape off, Tony.’

  He stared at me. ‘What tape?’

  I leaned across the desk. ‘Do not fuck me about,’ I growled. ‘You’ve had a recorder running since I walked in here. Your voice is different, louder and clearer, and we both know why. Now, are you going to turn it off, or do I have to find it and do it for you?’

  He knew when to fold ’em, did Tony Manson. ‘Aye, okay,’ he conceded. He opened the drawer at his left hand, produced a microtape recorder and disconnected it from a pen stand on his desk. ‘Looks realistic,’ he said. ‘You’d never know the ballpoint was a mike.’

  ‘That will bring you down,’ I warned him. ‘Vanity is a fatal weakness for a guy like you. And trying to get something on me would have been pretty bad for your health as
well. Gimme the tape.’ He removed it, without protest, and handed it over. ‘And the one you made last time.’ He smiled, went back into his desk drawer and handed me another micro-cassette in its box.

  ‘There’s no more,’ he said. ‘I promise. Now, Skinner, why are you here?’

  ‘I want to find out how stupid you really are.’

  ‘You know I’m not.’

  ‘I thought I did, but something’s happened to make me doubt myself, in that respect at any rate. When I was here last, I fed you some information that should have stayed within the investigation. I even ran a couple of names past you. I did that because I believed that if you could have helped me, you would have, quietly, just between us two. What I did not believe was that you would act on that information in a way I wouldn’t like or in a way that would embarrass me. So imagine what I felt when I was called down to Newcastle last night and shown the bodies of the guys we had firmly in the frame for Marlon’s murder.’

  Thunderclouds formed on Manson’s brow. ‘Are you winding me up?’ he asked, in a hiss that might have been the direst warning to someone other than me.

  ‘Not for one second, Tony. Now tell me, did you have anything to do with this . . . and be fucking sure you look me in the eye.’

  He did. He held my gaze and he didn’t blink. I saw the real man, the near monster, not the front he’d been hiding behind until then. ‘No I did not,’ he replied, in the same voice. ‘I swear, on your daughter’s life.’

  He was trying to send me a message, to say to me, I know you, I know your weakness, should you ever push me too far, copper. But he’d got it wrong: he didn’t know me at all. I felt my volcano ready to erupt, but I kept the plug in.

  ‘Let me promise you something,’ I said, holding his gaze. ‘If you ever mention my daughter again to me, or if I ever hear of you mentioning her, then I will take that as a threat to her. And . . . I . . . will . . . kill you. I’m a cop, Tony. I can find the means to do that and suffer no consequences. So let’s have that clear between us.’

  He considered me anew, and he nodded. ‘Sorry,’ he whispered. ‘No threat implied. If I ever had cause to come after you, it would be you alone.’

  ‘I can live with that.’ I paused. ‘You wouldn’t. Now, repeat, you’re giving me your word that you had nothing to do with the deaths of these three men.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Well, somebody’s hoping I’ll believe that you do.’

  He relaxed a little, hid behind the mask once again. ‘That had dawned on me,’ he drawled.

  ‘Any idea who?’

  He shook his head. ‘Not the faintest, Skinner. I’m hiding nothing from you, honest . . .’ he chuckled, ‘. . . and that’s not a word you’ll hear me use too often.’ And suppose I did, I’d always take it with a spoonful of salt.

  ‘Could it have something to do with Bella?’

  ‘No. I know all there is to know about her,’ he paused, ‘apart from her taking protection from her daughter, maybe. It couldn’t, believe me.’

  ‘How did you get together?’ I asked.

  ‘I saw her at Al Holmes’s funeral, believe it or not. She was two rows back in the crem, wearing a red dress. I liked her style, and her guts. I asked her what the hell she thought she was doing and she told me flat out that she was there to make sure he went up in fuckin’ smoke. What she didnae know,’ he continued, ‘was that Perry had asked me to kill her. He sent for me, in the Western. It was just the two of us, in his private room. He could barely talk then, but he managed to say to me, “Favour time, Tony. I want the Spreckley sister dead.” I told him that he’d have to settle for the brothers, for a man with a bullet in his head and fuck all else wasnae giving me orders.’

  ‘Are you saying this could go back to Holmes, and that it could be his revenge on Bella?’

  ‘No,’ he replied. ‘It’s got nothing to do with her. I’ve seen Perry since; I told him that Bella and Marlon were under my protection, and that there were no more debts owed. He accepted that. He’s out of that life now, Skinner, for sure. He’s got lots of money, but no power. Plus, of course, he’s a fucking cripple.’

  ‘So who? Zaliukas and his Lithuanian chums?’ I suggested.

  ‘No chance. Young Tommy’s trying very hard to be legit, and I’m encouraging that. He still has his faults, a bit flash, a bit reckless, but I hear he’s got himself a new girlfriend and that she’s bringing him under control.’

  ‘How exactly are you encouraging him?’

  He smiled. ‘Let me put it this way. Your drugs team’ll be wasting its time staking out his pubs.’

  Meaning he had put them off limits to his pushers. ‘Are you an investor too?’ I asked.

  ‘No, the boy doesn’t need me anywhere near him.’ The smile became a soft chuckle. ‘I invest in myself, that’s all. Perry’s the man wi’ the portfolio. Although what he’s going to do with it when he dies . . . and as we both know that could happen any minute . . . God alone knows. He’s never been married.’

  ‘Neither have you,’ I pointed out.

  ‘Maybe not, but my will’s made. It’ll be a while before anyone inherits, though.’

  I frowned. ‘Are you sure about that? Maybe you’re next, after Marlon.’

  ‘It’ll be an idiot that tries,’ he grunted.

  ‘You’ll tell us if he does, though. That’s not a request, Tony,’ I added.

  ‘Aye, I will,’ he said. ‘Eventually.’

  I left him, lurking and pondering in his den. He had been more forthcoming than usual, once we’d got the tape nonsense out of the way; I didn’t necessarily believe it all, but as far as I could figure, he didn’t have a reason to lie to me.

  I headed back to the office. There had been no big breakthrough in my absence. The guys were doing their best, but there was no good news, barely any at all, and the little there had been, discouraging.

  ‘I’ve spoken to McFaul in Newcastle,’ Leggat told me. ‘They didn’t find any mobile phones on any of the victims. They’ve been all through Church’s house too, and found hee-haw. Their next step, he says, is to track the call logs for their home phones and for Milburn’s taxi business.’

  ‘That’ll be a waste of time,’ I forecast, ‘but it’s got to be done, I suppose. What about Milburn’s office, and his house, and Shackleton’s?’ I asked. ‘Are they searching those too?’

  My impatience must have been showing, for Fred’s look was questioning. ‘Do you really want me to ask them that, boss?’ he ventured. ‘Remember what you said about not telling them how to do their jobs?’

  His point was undeniable. He’d never had to deal with a frustrated and restless Bob Skinner before, that was all. Suddenly, I found myself wanting to go home. I hadn’t been there in over twenty-four hours and the few off-duty hours I’d been able to snatch hadn’t helped my general condition. I couldn’t, of course, but I did have a manic need to keep moving. I cast around for things to do. I thought about going back to see Dougie Terry and giving him a harder time than before. I considered visiting my former near neighbour, Jackie Charles, and putting him through the wringer. But there was no point, in either case. It would have got me no further, and occasions such as those were best kept for when there was a real prospect of a result. Then I realised there was something I had promised to do, and forgotten with everything that had gone on. I went into my office and called Alison, on her mobile.

  ‘Hi,’ she said, making me feel good, and guilty, simultaneously. ‘I thought you must still be down in Newcastle, or that you’d just forgotten about me.’

  ‘Would I do that ever? We’re going sailing on Friday, remember? I’ve got that to look forward to.’ And a funeral, I thought, sombrely, that as well.

  ‘Are you ready?’ she asked.

  ‘Give me a break,’ I pleaded. ‘It’s two days away.’

  ‘No,’ she laughed, ‘not that. Are you ready for me to come up and see you?’

  ‘No,’ I countered. ‘You stay where you are. I’ll come to you
. No sense in you bringing files up here, just to take them back again.’

  ‘Are you sure? It’s no bother, honest.’

  ‘I’m sure. At this moment, I’m better off on the move.’

  She chuckled. ‘Ah, it’s one of those days, is it?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Do you think I don’t know what you’re like, after the time we spent working together? Come on down then. I’ll get the coffee on.’

  She really was good for me. There was a stability about her that seemed to transfer itself to me whenever I needed it, whenever I became as frantic as I’d been. Again, I found myself thinking of the choice I’d made around midnight, and how fucking stupid it had been. ‘Got any Gold Blend?’