‘Okay,’ Haddock replied. ‘Once all the by-the-book stuff is done, we’re going to be trying to find out how the hell Terry Coats and a uniformed police inspector came to wind up dead in the same car.’
His mentor nodded. ‘Yes, you will be,’ he agreed, frowning. ‘And maybe I can help you. When you were investigating the murder of that bothersome blogger, Austin Brass, you had Terry Coats in the frame as a potential suspect.’
‘That’s right. We had him under observation and you and I tracked him to a hotel out by Edinburgh Park. We wondered what he was up to; it turned out it was an air stewardess that he was banging on the side. That was when he and Noele went their separate ways.’
‘Correct. What you don’t know is that, after she kicked him out, Terry turned up at my house full of hell and looking for trouble. I had to,’ he paused, ‘calm him down. When I’d done that, and he’d come to his senses, he came out with a bizarre story.’ He laughed, softly. ‘He said he’d been working under cover.’
‘Under duvet, more like,’ McGuire grunted.
‘I knew the first part of that,’ Haddock added. ‘You told me at the time that you’d had to deck him.’
‘I didn’t have to,’ Skinner admitted, ‘but he took a punch at my boy; that’s as big a line as you can cross. What you don’t know is the tale he spun me. His excuse was that he’d come upon what he said was a money-laundering operation, converting stolen Krugerrands through an airport shop, after they were smuggled in by flight crew on a certain airline. He told me that he’d checked the background with a guy he knew . . . Griff Montell. He said that Griff had mentioned a big gold robbery that had happened during his time on the South African force. I thought it was bullshit, but I told him he should take the story back to Griff. At the time he was upset about being moved off CID, and I thought that on the off-chance there was anything in it he might see it as a way back in.’ He frowned. ‘Then I got wrapped up in the Brass investigation, and in the other thing that followed it, and what with Alex being attacked and everything, Coats and his story went right out of my mind until now.’
‘Can you remember the details?’ the DI asked.
‘That’s what I’m trying to do, put them together in my head. I didn’t make any notes at the time. I was too busy persuading myself not to give him more of a doing for hitting Ignacio. The cabin-crew girlfriend’s name was Aisha Karman, he said, and she was one of those laundering the money. She worked on an airline called Wister Air. I remember that because it struck me that I had never heard of it. Yes,’ he nodded, ‘it’s fitting together now. Aisha from Wister Air would make purchases in the store but rather than use cash or card she’d pay in Krugerrands.’
‘That was the tale?’
‘As much of it as I can remember,’ Skinner said.
‘Well,’ McGuire observed, ‘I think we can be fairly certain that if he did go back to Griff, he never took it to CID, otherwise I would have heard about it. And yet they were found dead together.’
‘We need to search both their homes,’ Haddock said. ‘Their phones, their diaries, everything.’
‘Agreed. Get on with it.’ The DCC turned to Skinner. ‘Bob, Griff and his sister lived next door to your Alex, didn’t they?’
‘That’s right; overlooking the Water of Leith. She told me he still lives there.’
‘Do you know if he had any female involvement, other than being friendly with Alex?’
‘I know he used to have a thing with Alice Cowan, the officer we had to let go, but I haven’t heard of anyone since then . . . other than Alex, when the pair of them felt like it.’
‘Still.’ McGuire frowned. ‘Sauce, add Cowan to your interview list. They might have kept in touch.’
‘She’s on the list already,’ the young DI replied, boldly. ‘But interviews are the second phase. Before them I need to get SOCOs into Griff’s flat, and into Coats’ home as well. They’re working in Griff’s office as we speak. When they’re done there, I’ll go through his papers myself.’
‘Do you know where Coats lived?’ Skinner asked.
‘No, but I can get that from Noele.’
‘I suggest that you try his employer first, rather than troubling her. Coats worked in security at Edinburgh Airport. Anyway, its management is going to want to be told that one of its senior people has been bumped off, rather than reading it in the Evening News online. In fact, you might want to do that right now; you’ll be putting Arthur Dorward’s people in Coats’ office too. Before they get there, it needs to be sealed off.’
‘You’re right, gaffer. We have patrol officers full-time at the airport. I’ll tell them to do that and put a guard over the door. That isn’t something we can leave to the airport staff. Until we know what Coats was up to, and who else was involved, I suppose they’ll all be persons of interest.’
‘True,’ Skinner agreed, ‘but you might find there aren’t all that many of them. In effect it’s our patrol officers who are the real security people. Have you got a pathologist on site yet?’ he asked.
‘Yes, she arrived just before I came up here. Her name’s Emily Badger. She’s new, which I guess is why she copped the on-call slot on Hogmanay. She brought an assistant; I just hope she’s up to it. I wish Sarah could have come.’
‘It’s as well for you she didn’t, without being told what she was walking into, like I wasn’t. She knew Griff well and she’d met Terry Coats. That would not have been good and I would not have been pleased,’ he shot a sidelong glance at McGuire, who wore a sheepish expression, ‘as in very not pleased.’
The chief constable intervened, rapping the desk that once had been hers. ‘People,’ she exclaimed, ‘even as we sit here, this thing is expanding. Sauce, you’ll need more personnel than you have, especially with DS McClair not being available to you. Things are quiet in the west just now, so I’m going to take a chance that they don’t heat up. I’m going to second Charlotte Mann and Cotter, her DS, to you, with a couple of detective constables as well.’
‘Lottie’s a DCI, ma’am,’ Haddock pointed out.
Steele smiled, faintly. ‘In that case you’ll need to be very nice to her. As Mr McGuire said earlier on, you will still be the SIO.’ She glanced at the DCC. ‘Mario, you advise them please, and make sure they understand the chain of command.’ She stood. ‘Okay, unless anyone has something else they need to ask, let’s get on with the job. I’m going home, but I’ll be available and I will,’ she emphasised the word, ‘expect to be updated.’
‘Do you want a car home, Bob?’ McGuire asked as she closed the door behind her.
‘Not yet, Mario, thanks. I’ll stick around for a while. When we get into Griff’s office another pair of eyes might be helpful. In fact, I’ll probably stay here until it’s a reasonable time to go and see Alex. But, listen,’ he added, ‘what are you going to do about the media? Even on the first of January, traffic being diverted away from a large police office won’t go unnoticed. Are you going to get Peregrine Allsop here from wherever he fucking nests?’
‘Hah! Our Head of Communications is in Australia, would you believe. I called Jane Balfour, our new Edinburgh assistant, as soon as I got word of this. She sounded half cut, even though she was supposed to be on call, so I told her to get her act together and get along here for eight o’clock. Meanwhile all media calls come straight to me. So far there have been none, but you’re right, anytime now it has to happen. “Police incident, no threat to life, more details later.” That’s all I’ll say for now.’
‘That’ll hold them, for a while at least,’ Skinner agreed. ‘Once you get Ms Balfour in place make sure she knows that I don’t exist in the context of this investigation: just in case she sees me around. I don’t want my name being leaked to any journo pals.’
He rose. ‘We’ll leave you to get on with it, Mario, if we may. Sauce, this office has a canteen . . . or it used to. It’s probably closed today, but there must be a coffee stock somewhere. I’m in need.’
As he had pr
edicted, no staff were working in the small canteen, but there was a coffee machine. ‘Costa,’ he muttered. ‘Always fucking Costa.’ Nevertheless he made himself a latte with two extra shots. Haddock settled for tea. They sat at a table in the empty room.
‘You all right, son? You were as white as a sheet when I got here.’
Haddock drew a breath and nodded. ‘It was a shock, no question,’ he confessed, ‘but I’m holding myself together. I could ask you the same thing. You knew Griff better than I did.’
‘I’ve had thirty years’ practice at holding it in, but that,’ he jerked his thumb in the general direction of the door, ‘that out there, it had me close to losing it.’ He glowered at the DI. ‘It was bad enough trying to involve Sarah in it, although I can understand it, she’s the top pathologist in this part of the country. But calling Noele in to look at the father of her kid with a hole in his fucking head . . . not for repetition, but DCC McGuire and I will be having a further conversation about that.’
‘That wasn’t him,’ Haddock said quietly. ‘That order came from the chief constable herself. Big Mario wasn’t there at the time. I could hardly question her, gaffer, could I?’
‘Are you sure about that? Could she and Mario have spoken about it before?’
‘No, or I doubt that it would have happened. I heard them discuss calling you; I was in the commander’s office while they closed the street off. He said that he needed you there, and that while he didn’t think you would both come, he’d ask if Sarah was available. She said that if there was a choice it should be Sarah, but he overruled her. He said no, that he needed you here. Then he went out; she was quiet for a bit and then she told me to call Noele and get her here. I sort of looked at her for a second, but she just said “Now!” as in “Don’t say a word, Haddock.” This is nothing really new, gaffer. The whisper is that the DCC is taking all the big decisions at HQ, and that she seems to have lost her self-confidence. I hope that’s not true. It was the chief who spotted me when I was a plod, and she was in that office along the way. It was her that helped me develop. I’ve done better than most folk think I should have, and I know it, but it’s thanks to her.’
‘Don’t sell yourself short, son,’ his mentor said. ‘You deserve to be where you are. I know they called Sammy Pye “Luke Skywalker” because he was such a high-flyer, but you’d have cruised past him on the runway.’ He sighed; realising that he had made a mistake by referring to Pye in the past tense. He glanced at his companion, but he gave no sign of having noticed. ‘But Maggie,’ he continued, ‘ah, that’s not so good. You’re telling me it’s just a whisper, but before you know it whispers can turn into shouts.’ He paused. ‘Mind you, those can often be unfounded too. It might just appear that way; we both know what a forceful character Mario McGuire is.’
‘Yes, but he also hears everything,’ the DI countered. ‘If he knew that sort of talk was in the air and there was nothing in it, he’d have squashed it.’
‘True,’ Skinner conceded.
‘Can you do anything about it?’
‘Me? I’m not the chair of the Scottish Police Authority, Sauce.’
‘No, but you made her, just as she’s made me. You could talk to her.’
‘I could, but . . .’ He finished his coffee, then returned to the machine and made another. ‘This might bear out a theory of mine, Sauce,’ he said as he resumed his seat. ‘I suspect that the chief’s job is so big now that each holder has a shelf life. Even before unification, I think that was true. I was chief in Edinburgh, and then in Strathclyde, even if it was only to shut up the shop and hand over to the national force. One of the reasons why I didn’t apply to be its chief constable, apart from disagreeing profoundly with it, as I still do, was that I felt my time was up. I wasn’t afraid of it; I looked at the terms, at the length of contract, and I doubted that I had it in me to see it out. Look at what happened to Andy Martin. He was gone inside two years, leaving behind him a trail of enemies who’d once been friends . . . including me, but that had fuck all to do with the job. Maggie’s been in post for not much longer. Okay, she hasn’t been abrasive, as Sir Andrew was, but she may have gone too far in the other direction. She’s always been reserved; her upbringing may have something to do with that, but we do not go there. She’s a brilliant police officer and she was the outstanding candidate when the job came up, but it may be that the inevitable limelight’s been too much for her. I know for a fact that she turned down the damehood that was offered after she was appointed. On top of all that, she’s a widowed mother, who lost her husband and survived cancer while she was carrying her child.’ He looked the younger man in the eye. ‘You said that I could talk to her. If I did that it might be to persuade her that there would be no shame in resigning and going home to look after wee Stephanie. How would you feel about that?’
Haddock was silent for a few seconds, considering the question. When he replied, he was hesitant. ‘Selfishly?’ he began. ‘It would depend on who took over. It would have to be advertised nationally, and I don’t know that I trust the Authority to get it right; I wouldn’t like to see somebody parachuted in from England who’s never walked a beat north of the border in his life. The DCC? Absolutely. ACC Mackie? Okay.’ He glanced at Skinner. ‘You, if you applied for it? No reason why not. You’re still years short of retirement age.’
His mentor laughed, quietly. ‘You can forget that one. I would still have a very short shelf life, plus I’ve gone in another direction. I have commitments elsewhere with InterMedia, for which incidentally I get paid a serious amount of money, twice the chief constable’s salary for a part-time job.’ He winked. ‘Oh yes, I have an avaricious side. No,’ he continued, ‘not me. You’re right, there would be a danger of the wrong appointment being made, but . . . while I’m not a member of the Police Authority, I do know the chair, and quite a few of the members, and I’ve got some influence I think. I’m fairly confident that an in-house appointment would be made. Mario is the outstanding home candidate, no question. Brian Mackie? No. Brian’s an excellent manager, excellent senior officer, but he’s not a leader, not a general. But let me throw another name at you. Neil McIlhenney.’
‘I don’t know him. That said I know of him; anyone who’s moved to the Met from here and has done as well as he has, yes, he has to be in the game. But would he want it? Isn’t he a . . . ?’
‘Deputy Assistant Commissioner? Yes. Will he go all the way? No. Louise, his wife, has given up stage acting, so he’s not constrained by her career. I doubt that he’d go against his best mate, but if Mario didn’t want it, you never know.’
‘Will you talk to the chief?’ Haddock asked.
‘I’ll have to think that through,’ Skinner declared, killing his second coffee and blinking as the caffeine hit. ‘Meantime, let’s see if you and I can get into Griff’s office yet.’
Four
Ignacio Watson Skinner stood in the doorway of the garden room, looking at his stepmother in surprise. He was slightly drunk, but less so than Pilar who clung to his arm as her world swam around her. Sarah was on the sofa, peering at her iPad. An empty goblet, a Corona bottle with a sad piece of lime at the bottom, and a mug with the word ‘Profesora’ emblazoned around it, one of his Christmas gifts, were on a small table beside her.
‘Is it that late?’ he slurred. She looked round, startled, as he spoke. ‘Have you been to bed and up already? Has Dad crashed?’
‘No to both of those,’ she replied. ‘I haven’t been to bed yet, I was going but I had a New Year message from the international medical examiners’ body. It’s a bit of a downer, about the new virus that’s been identified out in China. It sobered me up; if it’s even half true, we could be in for a very nasty year.’
‘Where?’
‘Everywhere.’ She smiled and checked her watch. ‘When I was your age, I’d still have been going at New Year’s. Come to think of it I suppose I still am.’ She checked the goblet; it was empty. ‘No, maybe not.’
‘If Dad i
s not upstairs,’ Ignacio began, ‘where is he?’
‘He was called out, by the police. A car came for him and took him up to Edinburgh. I don’t know why, but I do know there’s a body involved, because they asked for me too.’
‘Ohhh,’ Pilar murmured. ‘Nacho.’ Her olive complexion had turned significantly pale.
Sarah recognised impending disaster. She rushed across, peeled the young woman from Ignacio’s arm, and half-carried her into the cloakroom toilet. He looked on as the door closed, a soft grin on his face.
He was still smiling when his ringtone sounded. He checked the screen before answering. ‘Mum,’ he said, ‘we spoke already. Are you drunk too?’
‘I don’t drink anymore,’ Mia Watson replied. ‘Ignacio, have you heard from your stepfather in the last hour?’
‘From Cameron? No, why should I? I spoke to him with you, at midnight. What is wrong?’
‘He’s vanished,’ she exclaimed her voice rising. ‘Gone. Disappeared. We were at the Hogmanay celebrations in the hotel. I left around quarter to one; my ears were starting to hurt it was so loud. He said he was going to have a cigar in the garden, then follow me back to the house. When he hadn’t shown up an hour and a half later, I went back there to dig him out; the thing was over by that time and all the guests had gone to their rooms or been taken home by the courtesy bus. I couldn’t find him, Ignacio; he wasn’t there. I sent all the staff out to look for him in the grounds, in case he’d been taken ill, but nobody could find him.’
‘Did you call the courtesy-bus driver?’ her son suggested. ‘Maybe he went on it, to make sure everyone got home. It’s the kind of thing Cameron would do.’
‘The bus is back. He was never on it.’
‘Is his car still there?’
‘Yes, both of them. Ignacio, there isn’t a trace of him. It’s as if he’s been abducted by aliens.’
Five
‘He was neat,’ Haddock observed.
The Roots of Evil (Bob Skinner) Page 4