meal.' He chose not to add that they had spent the night at his flat.
'How was she?'
'She was okay. In fact, she was better than that.' He paused, gnawing
self-consciously at his bottom lip; a strange gesture for him, Skinner
thought. 'Just lately Bob, it's got so that she and I couldn't sit down
together without a fight starting. We had a big bamey, oh, more than
two weeks ago now, in a restaurant, and we sort of stayed away from
each other for a while just to let it cool off.
'It seems to have worked, for when we met on Saturday, she was
great. Back to her old self; bubbly, full of chat, and looking like two
million dollars. Almost hyper, you'd have said. I guess she was right
to move out; it seems to have done the trick for us.'
He glanced towards the window, smiling to himself at the memory
of Saturday night and Sunday morning. Skinner looked at him, in
turn, frowning slightly. 'That's good,' he said. 'That's good. I'm glad
to hear it. I only asked about her because she hasn't been in touch for
a bit. She was out when I called her at her temporary digs last night,
and I don't like phoning the office.
'Listen, if you hear from her before I do, ask her to give me a ring.
I've got something to tell her.' He paused. 'Sarah's expecting again.'
As Martin turned. Skinner realised that it was the first time he had
seen him smile from the heart in all of three months. 'Bob, that's
great. When did you find this out?'
173
'Just yesterday, for certain.'
'When's she due?'
'Months yet. Next May, she reckons.'
'A girl this time?'
'Sarah wants that, I know.' He let out a laugh that was half growl.
'As for me, I know how much bother daughters can be. Don't we just,
pal.'
174
55
Bob Skinner enjoyed the drive back to Gullane. In the relatively short
period during which he and Sarah had made their main home in
Edinburgh, he had missed the wind-down time which it afforded him,
the opportunity to return to his family freed from the tensions of an
invariably fraught day at the office.
A Seal CD was playing in the car, as he turned off the roundabout
at the foot of the Milton Link, and headed past the hypermarket, out
towards East Lothian. A light rain was falling, but nothing to make
the road conditions hazardous, or to lessen his pleasure as he reflected
upon the success of the Police Board meeting, and most of all,
anticipated the pending return of the Chief Constable to the office.
'It's the loneliness that's the killer,' the singer whispered.
'You're right there, pal,' the policeman said aloud. 'That's what
gets to me most of all about doing Jimmy's job. While you're hauling
yourself up the ladder, you hear them talk about the loneliness of
command, and you think, "What a load of crap! How can you be
lonely when there's a whole force at your disposal?" Then you get
there, and the door shuts, and for the first time in your life, you've got
no sounding board; no senior officer to look in on and ask, "Am I
doing right here?", and if you do that with a subordinate you're seen
to be unsure of yourself and as soon as that happens you lose their
absolute trust and as soon as that happens you're no longer truly in
command ...'
Lit by the orange light of the dashboard, he laughed out loud.
'Welcome back, Jimmy. Welcome--'
He broke off as the car phone rang. Killing the CD sound, he
pressed the receive button. 'Yes,' he said, anonymously, to the handsfree
mike above his eyeline.
'Pops?'Alex's voice bubbled into the car. 'It's me.'
'Never,' he retorted.
'Don't be so smart,' she told him. 'Andy called. He said you needed
to speak to me. I rang Fettes; and they said you had just left.'
'Yes,' Bob replied. 'I tried to get you at Gina's last night. Didn't she
tell you?'
175
'I didn't see her. I got in late,' From her cousin's place, she thought,
smiling wickedly at the other end of the line, 'and she left early this
morning. What's the panic?'
'No panic. Far from it. Something I have to tell you, that's all.
You're going to be a sister again.'
There was a silence in the car. 'Pops,' she exclaimed at last. 'That
is great. Sarah told me you had another baby in mind. I'm really
chuffed for you both.'
'Thanks kid. I hoped you would be.' Looking ahead, at the road, he
imagined he could see her face. 'But just for a moment there, I
thought--'
'Don't be daft. I couldn't be more pleased. I'll phone Sarah now.'
'Yes, you do that. She's dead keen to share it with another female.'
He paused.
'How're you doing? I haven't seen you since yon time--'
'I'm doing fine, Pops. Never better.'
'You've no regrets then; about claiming your life back?'
'None. It was something I needed to do, for Andy's sake as well as
mine. I think he realises that. Now I've done it, I've never been
happier.'
'That's good. That's certainly how you sound. A lot more settled in
yourself.' He felt himself frown. 'You know, Alex, I'm pretty sure
that's what went wrong with your mother. She gave up too much of
her youth too soon; that's why she went off the rails. I'm glad that
you've spotted that danger, and done something about it before it was
too late. You and Andy will be the better for it, I'm sure of that.'
'I'm sure we will, Pops.' He heard her laugh softly. 'We are already,
believe me.'
'That's good.' In the dark, he sighed. 'You know, kid, I've never
really thought about it before, but you sound like her. You sound just
like Myra.'
176
56
'My God, Bob, you'd think there was a war on.' Sir James Proud
looked around the headquarters gymnasium. Where normally there
was a clear area, three rows of desks were arranged, each with its own
telephone line.
'I'd rather there was,' Skinner muttered. 'Much less complicated.
It's been like this since last Wednesday. I thought you should see it on
your first day back.
'It's Andy's show. He decided that it would be best run under one
roof, and he's right. Until you get down to doing it, you couldn't
imagine how complicated this exercise could be.
'We're having to make contact with bodyguards of all sorts from
the thirty-plus countries that are going to be attending. For a start,
that's run us into a significant sum for translators; that's why there are
so many desks in here.'
The Chief Constable frowned. 'Not off our budget, I hope.'
'No, no. I've got that sorted. The Foreign Office will pick up that
tab. They've actually supplied some of the people.
'Translation's only a minor problem by comparison though. We're
having to gather in personal details for every protection officer
nominated by every country. As we're doing that they all have to be
vetted through the intelligence agencies.'
'Aren't their domestic vetting procedures sufficient?' asked Proud
&
nbsp; Jimmy, looking trim and neat in his uniform, which for the first time
in many months, fitted him comfortably.
'Not for the American Secret Service. I thought the FBI were
sticklers until I ran into these boys. I had a word with my pal Joe
Doherty in Washington about them. He says they make their recommendations
direct to the Chairman of the National Security Council,
and he turns them directly into commands.'
'Who's the Chairman of the NSC?'
'The President, and it's his arse that's on the line; so he isn't usually
open to persuasion when someone outside the Service thinks they're
going too far. Their argument in this case is that since a number of the
nations taking part in the conference are openly hostile to the US, it's
177
not without the bounds of possibility that a fanatic might infiltrate
one of the delegations. That's why they started this ball rolling by
insisting on carrying their own weapons. They've vetoed one bloke
from Pakistan already: they claimed he had links to the Taleban.'
'How long is all this going to take?'
'Almost until the opening of the conference at this rate, sir,' Andy
Martin answered. 'Welcome back,' he said, shaking hands with Sir
James.
'Thank you, Andrew,' said the Chief. 'I don't suppose that while all
this is happening, the local criminals are showing consideration by
taking time off.'
'Things have been quiet, actually. That probably means that they're
all out casing the various hotels. That's another security problem; one for Mr Elder, fortunately.
'But you're right, sir. I do have to keep a foot in both camps. In
fact, I've just been given a note to phone Clan Pringle about something,
so if you'll excuse me .. .'
'Of course, of course. On you go.' Proud turned back to Skinner as
the chief superintendent headed off.
'My goodness. Bob,' he said. 'Looking at this makes me sort of
glad I'm going home at lunchtime.'
178
57
'Where are you, Clan?' asked Martin, having phoned the Edinburgh
Central divisional CID commander on his mobile number.
'Up in Raymond Terrace, Andy, off the Western Corner,' Superintendent
Pringle replied. 'I was just about to leave actually. I called
you when I was on my way out here, but it's turned out to be a bit of
a false alarm. It looked a bit colourful when my two detective
constables turned up, but it's just a suicide. Sorry to have bothered
you.'
The Head of CID chuckled. 'Don't mention it, mate. You got me
out of the madhouse for a few minutes; I'm grateful for that. What
was it made your people jumpy anyway?'
'Ach, it was just the way it looked. The stiff was a single bloke; the
cleaning wumman came in this morning and found him sitting in his
armchair, wearing his pyjamas and dressing gown, stone dead. She
screamed, and all that, and phoned us in hysterics. "Help, Murder,
Polis!" - you've heard it a million times. My boy and girl responded, along with a couple of uniforms.
'The thing that made them call me, and made me call you when I
was told, was that the guy had a bag over his head. It looked a bit
weird, I'll admit, but I saw when I ot here that it was like wearing a
belt and braces. The bloke had injected himself with something. The
syringe was lying in his lap.
'The doctor's been,' he added. 'He certified death due to asphyxia,
then left.'
Martin felt the hair on the back of his neck prickle. He leaned
forward in his chair. 'The bag, Clan,' he asked, 'what was it like?'
'Just a clear poly bag. Nothing fancy.'
'How was it secured?'
'Round the neck, of course, wi' black tape.'
'And the roll that the tape came from. Was it there?'
'Aye. On the arm of the chair.'
'And the scissors?'
'There was a pair on the floor.'
Andy Martin's expression was growing more troubled by the
179
second. 'Have you called Arthur Dorward?' he asked.
'What?' said Pringle. 'The scene of crime team? No I haven't,
because I don't see a crime here.'
'Well, you get them out there, Clan. Wait there for me, and don't let
anyone touch a bloody thing. Are the press on to it?'
'Not as far as I know.'
'That's good. I want it kept that way. Be as discreet about this as
you can.'
180
58
Detective Superintendent Pringle was surprised when Brian Mackie
stepped through the front door behind the Head ofCID. It was unusual
for divisional commanders to venture on to each other's territory.
DCS Martin saw the raised eyebrows. 'I asked Brian to come along
with me, Clan. There's something about the way you described this
situation that's familiar to us both.
'Remember the Weston investigation a few weeks back, out in East
Lothian?'
Pringle nodded. 'I remember you mentioning it at a commanders'
briefing, and I remember reading about it in the papers. But that's all
really; I don't know any of the detail. It sounded like no one was very
clear what it was.'
Mackie shook his head. 'No, Clan, we all knew exactly what it was
from the off. Someone injected the woman, then tried to make it look
as if she had suffocated herself. It was a real amateur job, though.
'Yes,' said Martin. 'When you described this scene to me I felt like
I was back out at Oldbams again, and I began to wonder. Could the
same person be involved here, and could they have learned from the experience?'
'One thing you might not know, Clan,' Mackie added, 'or might not
have remembered from that briefing. Gaynor Weston had a terminal
illness.'
'So it was a mercy killing?'
'Use any term you like.' Andy Martin sounded grim. 'But I know
what it was, and so do you. Let's have a look at him.' Pringle nodded
and led them along the narrow hall of the Victorian terraced villa
towards a sitting room at the rear. 'Dorward here yet?' asked the Head
ofCID.
'Not yet, Andy. But as you ordered, I haven't let anyone near the
body since I called out his team.'
'Has anyone touched the syringe, the tape, or the scissors?'
'I think I saw the doctor pick up the syringe, then lay it back down.'
'Silly bugger. Make sure he's fingerprinted, then. We'll have to
181
eliminate everyone who might have touched it.'
Pringle stood to one side to allow his colleagues to step into the
small sitting room.
But for the plastic bag, the man in the chair would have looked as
if he was enjoying a peaceful, dreamless sleep. He was sitting back in
the big soft armchair, his head resting against the high back cushion.
His eyes were closed. Martin stepped across to him, leaned down and
looked into his face. At once he noted, contrasting with its overall
waxy, yellowish colour, the small red blotches of the burst capillaries
around his nose, and his mouth, which hung open slightly. The man
was very thin. There seemed hardly an
ything of him in his cotton
pyjamas and silk dressing gown.
He looked closely at the polythene bag. Black insulating tape had
been wound several times round the dead man's neck, effecting an
airtight seal, then cut off at the back, towards the left side.
'What's his name?' the Head ofCID asked, quietly, almost as if he
was afraid the sleeper might awake. He straightened up and stepped
back from the chair, careful not to step on the scissors which still lay
on the floor.
'Anthony Murray, according to the cleaning lady,' Pringle replied.
'He used to be a bank manager, but he took early retirement over a
year ago. He was a widower; lost his wife, about five years back.'
'Has the cleaner worked for him for long?'
'Aye, since before the wife died.'
'Is she still here?'
'Naw, Andy. Poor woman was in a right state. I sent her home in a
Panda car.'
'Fair enough, Clan. This is a very similar set-up, although it isn't as
clear-cut as the Weston case. Just looking at him, you have to say it's
possible that he did all this himself. Nevertheless ... I want you to
keep the body here until after Dorward's people have photographed it
and the surrounding area. Then I want him sent to the mortuary up at
the Royal. Leave the bag in place, though. Leave everything in place;
send him just as he is.
'Dr Sarah Skinner did the postmortem on Gaynor Weston; I want
her to take care of this one as well, and I want her to see the victim
just as you found him.
'Was there a letter?'
Pringle nodded, and pointed to a small side-board beside the door.
A single sheet of paper lay on it. Martin stepped across and looked at
it. The suicide note was short and to the point. 'Three words, "Better
this way",' the DCS read aloud. 'It's signed "Anthony Murray".'
He glanced back towards the chair, and the body in it. 'Maybe it
182
was better for you, Mr Murray: I hope so. It's left a right mess for us,
though, and no mistake.'
183
59
'I'm sorry I had to insist on your coming to see me. Superintendent,'
said the Assistant General Manager. Clan Pringle heard the words but
picked up no hint of apology in his voice. 'I'm afraid it's our policy
never to discuss the business of bank personnel over the telephone.'