Head Shot

38

Bob Skinner and Joe Doherty stood on the gangway beside Jackson Wylie's mooring, looking at what was left of his boat. Al of the superstructure and the deck had gone, save for the twisted metal framework of some of the fittings; below, virtually all that was left was a black, soggy mess, where the firefighters' hoses had pounded the blaze into extinction.

The exception was a rectangle ofDay-Glo yellow, a tarpaulin laid by the sheriff's deputies over the remains of Leopold Grace's former partner.

'Wel, Bob,' asked Doherty, 'what do you think? Was it a stray spark from the barbecue and it's hooray and up she rises?'

'It's possible,' the big Scot murmured. 'So, I'm told, are interstellar travel, miracle cures for terminal il nesses, and peace in the Balkans. As a friend said to me the other day, it's also conceivable that Motherwell Footbal and Athletic Club could win the Scottish Premier League in my lifetime. But I don't believe that any of those things is actually going to happen, any more than I believe that this was a fucking accident.

'If our theory of a link between the murders of Leo, Wilkins and Garrett is correct, then that thing lying under the sheriff's groundsheet, done to a cinder, is number four. You're not going to tell me any different, are you?'

'No, sir, I am not. We'd better find out all we can about him, quick as we can. How much do you know? You met the guy, after al.'

Skinner shook his head. 'I know nothing about him. Yes, we met one time at my father-in-law's but we didn't exchange life stories.'

'Did Mr Grace ever talk about him?'

'Very little. He mentioned once that he had brought Wylie into the law firm back in the early seventies, and that he had appointed him as senior partner on his retirement on a sort of caretaker basis, a safe pair of hands while the younger guys were gaining more experience.'

'How old was he?'

'About ten years younger than Leo, I'd have guessed. He'd have been looking towards retirement himself now.'

'Married?'

'Widowed. His wife died a few years back. When we spoke he mentioned a son in Florida, a journalist with the Miami Herald.'

Doherty touched his head wound, gingerly. 'Gotta take another painkiller,' he muttered, taking a small bottle from his pocket. 'Let's go back to the office; I can't take these damn things without water.'

They walked silently along the gangway. Eventual y the American gave a heavy sigh. 'Guess I'd better break into the guys' weekends.'

'To do what?' asked Skinner. "They can't make any progress on Garrett or Wilkins till Monday. We're on the ground here; we can get Dekker's men moving on this new investigation, and we can do a couple of things ourselves.'

'Such as?'

'Well, eventual y, we can sit down and think, but first we should find Mrs Thorpe, Wylie's secretary. We need to find out who might have known that he'd be on that boat. Brad Dekker's digging up her address for us.'

'Yeah. Who knows, maybe she can tell us a lot more than that. She worked for both him and Grace; maybe she can tell us what this is all about.'

The Scot grunted. 'I hope not, for her sake. If she could, I have a hel of a feeling we're going to find her dead. Come on, take your pill and let's get moving.'