‘There is no chance of that,’ Aileen declared firmly. ‘No chance at all. It will be endorsed unanimously. If I had enemies within the Labour group, then there might be some sort of stunt, but I don’t. My reach is long, when I choose, and I made damn sure there were no rebels appointed. I wouldn’t give anyone the chance to attack you to get at me.’ She smiled. ‘But I agree, we should keep the celebrations in-house till it’s all official. That’s why we’re having dinner in La Potinière tomorrow, rather than tonight.’
‘We are? Just the two of us? Or have you asked Jimmy and Chrissie too?’
‘I did, but they send their apologies; they’re going somewhere else. Brian and Sheila Mackie are coming, Neil and Louise, and Alex, of course. Andy and Karen too, if you’d like and they can get a sitter.’
‘Veto the last,’ said Bob quickly. ‘If word got out, that might be seen as a public endorsement. Brian’s a close colleague; he’s different, I can live with that. Jimmy would tell you the same thing.’
Aileen gazed at him, intrigued. ‘Since when did you bother about things like that?’ she asked. ‘Not that I’m arguing with you, but I’m surprised.’
He met her eyes with his. ‘I’m glad I can still do that . . . surprise you, that is. Since this afternoon, I reckon. Until now, everything’s been hypothetical, but now it’s about to become real . . . maybe I’m kidding myself, but I feel my thinking starting to change. It occurred to me as I was speaking to Jimmy about my possible successor; I found myself taking new factors into account, that wouldn’t have occurred to me before.’
‘Welcome to the club. You’ve just described how I felt when I became First Minister. All of a sudden, I had all the responsibility, no filters, nobody to hide behind when it came to the difficult decisions. It was scary until I accepted that, in truth, it was what I’d wanted from the day I entered public life.’
‘Ah well,’ said Bob, ‘I don’t know that I have accepted that yet. Maybe it isn’t true of me.’
‘Are you feeling self-doubt? If you are, love, then the last thing I’d want is for you to do something that would make you unhappy. It’s not too late to withdraw your application. I can scrap the dinner.’
He savoured his Veuve Cliquot and stared out of the window. ‘And if I did that, how would I feel about myself for the rest of my life? I know we made our deal, honey, I go for chief and you marry me, but both those things were going to happen anyway. I don’t think anyone has ever made me do something I didn’t want to do, or didn’t feel that I should.’ He looked back towards her. ‘No, they can appoint me, and once they have done, we’ll all have to take the consequences of that, until I’m done with it or they’re done with me. So let’s gather in La Potinière, enjoy it, and prepare for the mayhem to come! Are you bringing a partner?’ he asked his daughter as she returned.
‘No,’ she told him.
‘You can if you like,’ Aileen pointed out.
‘Ah.’ Alex eyed her father. ‘But what if I brought Griff Montell?’
He laughed out loud. ‘Now you are being mischievous, kid. Do you think he’d come, even if he wasn’t in South Africa with his gay sister? A detective constable at that table? The guy would run a mile rather than accept that invitation, and you know it. But bring somebody else if you like, someone from the firm, maybe.’
‘No, I’ll come alone.’ She flashed him a sharp glare. ‘You were right, of course: I wouldn’t have dreamt of inviting Griff, and not just because of the company. It would be implying something that isn’t true; we’re not that close.’ She paused. ‘And what’s with the crack about Spring being gay? That’s rubbish.’
Her father shook his head. ‘No, it isn’t. I’ve seen Griff’s vetting report; it was done when he applied for a transfer from South Africa. You can imagine why we looked into her. Single guy living with his single sister; I didn’t demand it, but I understand why it was done. That’s what showed up; in fact, it was the main reason for her wanting to leave. She drove the move more than he did. Fine, it means nothing to me, which team she bats for; it doesn’t make her brother a security risk. As it happens, I have gay people on my force right through the ranks, and I’m comfortable with it.’
‘Griff’s not one of them,’ Alex muttered. ‘I can tell you that.’
‘I know; he left an ex-wife and two kids in South Africa.’ Her mouth fell open. Bob nodded. ‘It’s true.’
‘You knew that and you didn’t tell me.’
‘I didn’t feel that I could tell you at the time, given how I got the information. Plus, the man got you out of a very nasty scrape, you’ll remember, so maybe I made some allowances for him. When I realised you were sleeping with him, I was in a bit of a quandary, but again, I decided that all I could do was let it play itself out.’
‘But he didn’t tell me either.’
‘Yet you still cooled off the relationship. See? Your instincts were right, you sensed something, and you made the right decision. There’s a lesson I learned from the failure of my second marriage, a lesson that Aileen and I have both taken to heart, and it’s this. We know everything about each other, she and I. Why? Because you can’t build on hidden truths; they’d bring the whole fucking house down.’
‘Jesus!’ Alex gasped. ‘And as Chief Constable Bob Skinner you’ll have access to even more secrets, and even more power.’
‘That’s what gets to me, my dear. It’s a hell of a responsibility; now you can see why I was ambivalent about it for a while. This morning, Andy Martin told me about something that had scared him. I could have made the same admission to him; but I’ve got over it.’
‘And has Andy?’ she asked, curious, frowning.
‘Don’t know about that.’
Silence hung between them, until it was broken by the sound of Bob’s ringtone. He put his glass on a side table, fished out his mobile and took the call, from an undeclared number.
‘Piers here,’ he learned. ‘Can you speak?’
‘Yes. I’m just sat here cuddling a Widow, and getting ready for some more of her.’
‘The lives you Jocks lead,’ Frame drawled. ‘I’ve made some inquiries, Bob, and the fact is, your chap was pretty low down the watch list. Indeed, once he was elected to your parliament, surveillance stopped altogether. The thinking was that if we wanted to find out what he was doing about Trident, it would all be on the public record, so the resources involved were reallocated. So I’m assured by MoD that they haven’t done any housekeeping at your chap’s place since his death; neither they nor anyone else we know about, if you get my meaning.’>
So not the CIA either. ‘Yes, I do. Thanks, although that leaves me with a puzzle.’
‘Which I’m sure you’ll solve. Oh, and also, that name you mentioned; not a member of our community, either real or assumed. Bit of a mystery caller, it seems.’
‘Indeed. For his sake he’d better stay that way. Thanks, chum.’ He pondered Frame’s message as he closed the Motorola. Yes, the dead man had been watched for a while, but that had stopped, and no, Coben wasn’t one of theirs. So who was he? Why did he visit Andy to warn him off? How did he even know about the surveillance? Or . . . had other eyes been fixed on Ainsley Glover?
He laid the phone on the table, picked up his flute and waved it at Aileen. ‘Since I seem to be the star of the show,’ he began, ‘. . . is there any chance of some more of that stuff?’
Fifty
‘I don’t want to put pressure on you, Inspector,’ Denzel Chandler began, ‘but Randy’s having a really hard time. The pod she’s using as a makeshift author reception centre really isn’t big enough. She’d kill me if she knew I was asking, but can you give me an idea of when she might be getting her yurt back?’
‘I reckon we’ll clear out this afternoon,’ Pye told the tall, dark-haired author, noting that he had shaved since their last encounter. ‘We’ve done all we can here. I’d like to have the carpeting removed from the area where Mr Glover died, and the bench he was lying on, and taken to our lab,
just as a precaution, in case the forensic people need to take another look at any of it. Once we’ve done that, we’re out of here.’
‘Thanks,’ said the director’s partner, his face brightening, ‘you’ve made my morning.’ Then his smiled disappeared. ‘God, that sounds terrible; poor Ainsley died here and I’m going on about our inconvenience. How’s your investigation going? Can you talk about it?’
‘I don’t have a lot to tell you. We’ve done a lot of elimination, so much that there’s nothing positive left standing.’
‘There was a rumour doing the rounds yesterday that you were searching Bruce Anderson’s place.’
‘No rumour, only it isn’t his place, as such, it’s his girlfriend’s. We recovered a quantity of drugs; she’s been charged with possession.’
‘So Bruce is in the clear?’
‘I didn’t say that, but I won’t say different. Mind you, he didn’t make it easy for himself with that carry-on at the opening night party.’
‘Bruce doesn’t seem to have a gift for making things easy for himself. But I’m glad he’s not in trouble . . . not least because Randy’s asked him to appear on an extra panel next Monday, discussing the fictional approach to the drugs question.’
‘Ouch!’ Pye chuckled. ‘She may find that he’s less keen to do that, given that Lady Anthea’s up in court this morning. The connection between them’s bound to be reported.’
‘Oh hell,’ Chandler sighed. ‘Maybe I should tell her to draw up a plan B.’
‘The way things have gone in the last couple of days, if I were her I’d have C as well.’
‘I don’t envy Dr Mosley,’ said Ray Wilding as Chandler left. ‘This event must be a real bugger to run in an ordinary year, so what it’s been like with this going on all around her . . .’
‘And not just that,’ Alice Cowan added. ‘It’s her first year in charge.’
‘Where was she before?’ asked Pye.
‘She was with the European Commission in Brussels, in the culture directorate.’
‘Bet she wishes she was back there.’ Pye clapped his hands. ‘OK, team,’ he called out. ‘I’m due up at Fettes before ten, to hear what Dr Anderson has to say for himself. Let’s have a summary of where we’ve got to.’ His three colleagues gave a collective sigh, and shifted in their seats. ‘I know, this isn’t one of the easy ones; it’s going to be a hard slog, but we have to go on. As far as the family are concerned, I’ve checked their story myself. Yes, Carol and Wilkie were in Deacon Brodie’s on Saturday night as they said. Wilkie was pissed as the proverbial, according to the manager. He remembered him when I showed him a photo; he stopped serving him drink before midnight. Carol was OK though; she took charge of him.’
‘What about Collins?’ Wilding asked.
‘The staff don’t remember seeing him before twelve thirty, but I’ve checked with the Saltire and he did file a review of the show in the Bedlam Theatre that Carol said he went to.’
‘Have you checked with the theatre company that he was actually there? I know that might seem like overkill, but . . .’
‘Of course I have,’ Pye declared. ‘I’m seeing the boss soon, and I don’t want to be sitting there looking like Homer bloody Simpson when he starts asking me questions. I haven’t confirmed it, though. I spoke to the director, they didn’t have a performance last night, so he couldn’t speak to his front of house staff, but there’s a matinee on today. Have one of the DCs check with them.’
‘Will do,’ said the sergeant. ‘I might as well have been at the theatre last night. Becky brought that computer home with her. She was at it until after ten, and from the effing and blinding that was going on, I could tell she wasn’t having any joy.’
‘There may be nothing for her to find,’ Pye conceded, ‘but it has to be covered.’ He reached into his pocket and drew out the envelope she had given him the day before. ‘Thanks to her, we’ve got this . . . which I confess I forgot to read until now.’ He opened it and scanned its contents, a single sheet, frowned, then handed it to Wilding.
‘Looks like five email addresses,’ he said as he peered at it. ‘Two of them are dot com, two are dot yu and one’s dot ba. What the hell’s dot yu and dot ba?’
‘Dot yu used to be Yugoslavia,’ Haddock volunteered. ‘Serbia still uses it. I don’t know about the other one.’
‘Then check it, Sauce,’ Pye ordered, ‘and trace these addressees, without approaching them or alerting them if you can avoid it.’
‘Yes, boss.’
‘Fast as you can. I’d like some answers by the time I get back from seeing Dr Anderson.’
‘Providing he’s not heading for the hills again,’ Alice Cowan chuckled.
The DI whistled. ‘I don’t think even he would be that reckless.’
Fifty-one
‘Is this the biggest day of your life, Bob?’ asked Assistant Chief Constable Brian Mackie.
Skinner looked at him, eyebrows raised. ‘Shit, no, not even close. The day I married Myra; the days my children were born, the day I met Aileen; they all rank way above today.’
‘Professionally, man; I meant professionally.’
‘I know. I’m only pulling your chain. Maybe you should ask me after the Board meeting, when they call me in and tell me to my face, either that I’m chief or that they’ve realised in the nick of time what a terrible mistake they almost made. Until that happens, I won’t know. As of this moment, I rank the day that Mario and I arrested Dražen Boras and charged him with Stevie Steele’s murder as the best of my career. That was some buzz, seeing the look in his eyes when he knew he was done.’
‘Yes, I can believe that all right. When does he come up for trial?’
‘Before the year’s out; that’s all I know for sure. It’ll be in Newcastle, since Stevie died in Northumberland and that’s the nearest Crown Court.’
‘Will you be a witness?’
‘As of this moment, that’s not certain; if the CPS feels the need, they may call Mario and me to give evidence about his arrest. Becky Stallings and Ray Wilding will be for sure. They were directly involved in the investigation on the day of the murder. Jimmy and I were at the scene, but only after the event. Arthur Dorward’s going to be the star turn. It was his forensic work that nailed Dražen.’
‘Will he be all right under cross-examination?’
‘Arthur? Absolutely rock solid. I’m in no doubt about that. He’s built a model of the trap that was set, and it’ll be introduced as an exhibit. The Crown case will be absolutely watertight.’ He paused. ‘Anyway, going back to the present, however this day ends, there’ll be sadness in it, for it’ll be the last time that Sir James Proud will walk out of this building as a serving police officer. When he does, and I expect him to leave around four, after the Board lunch breaks up and after he says his final farewells along the command corridor, I want every available colleague, from you and me down, and the senior civilian staff as well, to form a guard of honour. Will you take care of that, get everyone along?’
‘Sure, Bob, my pleasure. But come on, tell me, how do you feel?’
Skinner shrugged his shoulders, an uncertain gesture that sat strangely on him. ‘Nervous,’ he replied, ‘if you want the truth. I suppose I should be happy about that; it’s how I reckon I should feel.’ He grinned. ‘I’ll have something to take my mind off it, though, in about half an hour. I have Dr Bruce Anderson calling on me, by appointment, for interview under caution by me and Sammy Pye. I’d better go and prepare for him.’
He left the room, and Mackie found himself looking at the door long after it had closed. He had known Bob Skinner for a long time, had even been his executive assistant for a spell, but he had never seen him so edgy. It was a momentous day, undoubtedly; end of an era, and the new one would bring change. How much? Maybe less than people expected, the ACC mused. The new chief was inheriting a highly motivated force, in good shape. He was too smart to stand that on its head.
The ringing telephone broke into his thou
ghts. ‘Mackie,’ he replied automatically as he snatched it up, feeling instantly foolish as he realised that the call had come from his outer office and that he had no need to identify himself.
Chief Inspector David Mackenzie, the senior officers’ adjutant, ignored the slip. ‘I’ve got someone on the line from Melbourne, sir. She says her name is Assistant Commissioner Gabrielle Robotham, and she’s asking to speak to her opposite number. The control centre reckons that’s you.’
The ACC frowned. ‘Are we sure it’s genuine?’
‘Yes, it’s been screened; she’s calling from Victoria State police headquarters.’
‘Then put her through, David.’ He sat back in his chair and waited.
‘Mr Mackie?’ she began briskly. ‘You’re an assistant chief constable, right?’
‘Right. In charge of uniformed operations throughout the force area.’
‘Fine, sounds like you’re the guy. I’m Gaby Robotham, and I need your help with something. We’ve had an incident here, and a man is dead. He’s Scottish, from your territory, I understand, and next of kin need to be informed fast, because this could leak . . . in fact the story’s bound to break sooner or later . . . and his name’s going to be all over the media.’
‘Why? What is his name?’
‘He’s been identified as Henry Matthew Mount, he was aged sixty-one, and according to his driving licence his address is number ten, Broadgreen Gate, Gullane, Scotland. His next of kin is shown on his passport as Mrs Trudy Mount, same address. He was travelling alone, so I’m hoping she’s at home or close to it.’
The name registered with Mackie, somewhere, but he was unable to place it, as he thought through the logistics of the request. ‘No problem,’ he told the Australian. ‘We have an operation in that village as we speak. I can take care of that. What happened to the man? How did he die?’
‘That’s the damnable thing. It appears that he’s been shot, but none of my officers at the scene are prepared to tell me how, or even confirm that he was, until our forensic people report. It’s a pretty public place, too. The guy’s a visiting author, and he was killed at the Melbourne Writers’ Festival.’
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