Head Shot

9

They lay in the dark, silent but awake. They had finished their celebration meal in a sombre mood, had come home and gone straight to bed. They had made love, intensely, passionately, as if each had something to prove to the other, only neither was sure what it was.

Maggie rubbed the flat of her hand over the ridged muscles of her husband's abdomen. 'Not bad,' she whispered, 'not bad.'

'Hard enough for you?'

She slid her hand down and held him. 'Not any more.'

'Give it time.'

She eased closer to him, her head in the crook of his arm. 'Isn't it good,' she said, suddenly. 'You don't have to cal me ma'am any more.'

'I wonder how long that'l last.'

'For good, I think. I reckon my only way up the ladder is to go for Manny English's job in a few years, when he chucks it… but I won't do that. I'm tied to CID; it's what I do best.'

'Don't be so inflexible,' he cautioned. 'You put down English, but we're all in the same job.'

'What? Would you leave CID?'

'I will if I have to. I don't feel tied to it at all. For example, I fancy commanding the city centre unit some day.'

'From what I hear, you'll have to shoot Brian Mackie if you do. He's next in line for that job, so they say.'

'Yeah, I know,' he conceded. 'But still, we're living in times of change, with Andy going to Tayside and Haggerty in from Glasgow.'

'Yes, that was a surprise.'

'Which?'

'Haggerty's appointment. Not Andy; I know exactly why he's gone to Tayside, and I know who put him there.'

'Who? The Chief?'

'No. Big Bob.'

'Why? So he can bring him back, eventual y, as his deputy?'

She laughed softly, almost in his ear. 'You surely have been locked 36 away in Special Branch for long enough; you're out of touch with the politics. No, the whisper is there's another plan being drawn up.'

'Such as?'

'We'l al know that when it happens. But don't underrate Andy Martin; he's his own man. He was never going to live all his life in Bob Skinner's shadow… any more than you were in mine.'

'I'm happy to be in your shadow, my love. The prince consort, that's how I've always seen myself; three paces behind, hands clasped behind back.'

'Bullshit.'

He gave a mock sigh. 'Aye, okay. Bul shit.'

The silence returned, but neither felt remotely like sleep. 'Your Uncle Beppe,' Maggie began, taking a guess at his thoughts. 'Why don't you get on with him?'

'Because he's a tit.'

'There's more to it than that.'

'Wel, okay,' he conceded. 'It's not that I don't get on with him; it's more the other way round. When I was a kid, my Papa Viareggio, my grandfather, and I were very close. I worshipped that old man, and he trusted me with his confidence, in a way he never did with my cousins Paula and Viola; they were that bit younger… and also, they were girls.

Beppe didn't like that; he had always disapproved of my mother marrying a non-Italian… Catholic or not… even though my papa and my nana were both fine about it.

'When I was a wee boy, he called me a fucking half-breed once, in front of my papa. The old fellow carried this stick… he didn't need it, it was just for effect… and he cracked Beppe right across the shoulders with it, whipped him as if he was a kid.

'That didn't help things, but the real problem was that Beppe was afraid of me. He was scared that Papa would leave me control of the family business, the cafes, the delicatessen chain, the properties, the lot.

He might have too, only he died, and in the will that he left Beppe was to be in control of the trust which is the legal owner of all the family businesses.'

'Yes,' said Maggie. 'I knew that. You told me, but why have things stil been cool between you, since Beppe is in charge?'

She felt his shoulder twitch in a slight shrug. 'I suppose it's to do with a clause in the wil. I try not to think about it, because I don't like it any more than Beppe does.'

'What clause? You never told me about that.'

'Like I said, I don't like it myself. You see, Beppe inherited control of the business all right, but it's not as simple as that. There are two trustees; him and my mother, but he has the casting vote. But when my mother dies, becomes incapacitated, or just plain decides to retire, the old man's wil says that I take her place. When Beppe dies, Paula, the older of my cousins, succeeds him, but control passes to my mother, and through her to me.'

She sat bolt upright. 'What!'

'Like I said, it's the evil day I try not to think about. I love the force, Mags; no way would I want to have to leave it.'

'Well, when the time comes, can't you just decline, abdicate, or what have you?'

The silence returned. 'Well?' she insisted.

'It's not as easy as that,' he murmured. 'This is what my papa wanted; it's a family thing. It's an obligation, and it's in my blood

… the Italian cells in it, at any rate.'

'Oh, come on.'

'I'm serious. Beppe might have let it run down a bit, but… okay I go on about him, but it can't be that bad or my mum would have done something about it years ago… it's stil the business my papa built up, and if I walked away from it, I'd be snubbing him. Plus, I don't know if I could just hand it over to Paula.'

'Why not? Is she that thick?'

'Oh, Paula's not thick. She's anything but.'

'Does she work in the business? I've never been sure.'

'Oh yes, she's involved. She runs the deli down in Stockbridge. But she has other interests.'

'Such as?'

'Saunas.'

'You mean brothels?'

Mario grunted. 'You might say that, but I couldn't possibly comment.