Head Shot

69

'Who knows that he's Maggie's father?' asked Skinner.

'Only McGuire, Mcl henney and me; I didn't see the need to tell Pringle.'

'Good, keep it that way. When was the girl kil ed?'

'Yesterday afternoon, the doctor reckoned.'

'Do we know for sure it was Rosewel?'

'He's the only runner in the field. Plus, we can check. The lass put up a fight; they found skin under her fingernails, so we have a DNA trace.

We're going to have to take a blood sample from Maggie Rose; if it matches, it's him.'

'Bloody hell. Who's going to ask her?'

'If it comes to that, it'l be down to me. Things are bad between Mario and her just now.'

Skinner sighed. 'I was afraid of that. Wil ie, I reckon we should take McGuire off this investigation as well.'

'Who else is there, Bob? He knows the case, he Joiows the people involved. If Rosewell's killed the girl, he's maybe gone already, but if not, he won't be here for long. My feeling is that we let Mario run, but have big Mcl henney at his side al the way, to keep him in check.'

'He's the only man I know who could do that,' the DCC admitted.

'Okay, do it, but keep tabs on it al the way.'

Sarah was frowning at him as he returned his phone to his pocket.

'Business at home,' he told her. 'Nasty, but you don't need to know right now.'

'BeppeViareggio?' she asked.

'Partly, but let's drop it.' She looked as if she had no inclination to do so, but he was saved by the bell, or the tone, of his cellphone as it sounded again.

'Yes,' he answered, expecting Haggerty again.

'Mr Skinner?' It was an American woman's voice, low and even.

'Yes.'

'This is Philippa Doherty. I have some bad news for you.' Bob's head swam and his stomach lurched. He leaned against the store counter feeling the blood rush from his face. 'I got back from my flight this morning. When I let myself into the apartment I found Dad dead in bed.'

'Oh no,' he hissed.

'The doctor reckons he had a massive heart attack in his sleep.' He heard the girl catch her breath, keeping hold of her control. 'We've been warning him for years about his smoking,' she said. 'I guess it's finally caught up with him. I know you were in touch with him recently, and I found your number on his pad, so I thought I'd better tell you, along with his other friends and col eagues.'

As she spoke a wholly unreal feeling swept over Skinner; it was as if he was in a room full of people, everyone on the move, steadily, not rushing, but heading somewhere. He started to slide down the counter, until Sarah caught his arm. 'Bob!' she exclaimed. 'What is it?'

Slowly he realised that he had passed out for a few seconds, but his wife's touch, her voice and that of Philippa Doherty, asking if he was stil there, seemed to have brought him back to the present. He nodded to Sarah, and spoke into the phone. 'Yes, yes. It's a terrible shock, that's all.

Poor old Joe. I wil miss him so much. My condolences to you and al the family.'

For a moment he was on the verge of asking if she had found a floppy disk in the house, but he realised that would have been pointless, and maybe even dangerous for her. There would be no floppy disk, and Jackson Wylie's recovered iBook would either vanish or yield nothing.

'Philippa,' he told her, instead, 'I'm stil in the US as it happens, so please, let me know the funeral arrangements. And thank you for thinking of me; thank you for letting me know.'

For the second time in five minutes, he ended a cal, but this time looking stunned, not just worried.

'Joe Doherty?' asked Sarah, incredulous.

He nodded. 'Coronary, they say.'

'You doubt it?'

'No; at least I'm sure that's what a post mortem will show. I've never yet heard of a cat that actual y died of curiosity.'