Murmuring the Judges

29

‘Want to talk about it?’

Tall even in his open-toed sandals, Bob looked down at Sarah, who grinned back at him as they made their way down the high dune. ‘What do you mean?’ he asked her.

‘You know damn well. You’ve been in another world since you got home this evening. Not one word of more than two syllables has passed your lips, and when I suggested that we should take the boys for a walk before we ate, you jumped at it.

‘I know you, husband, and I know when there’s something chewing at your brain. What is it? The bank robberies? Lord Archergait?’

He nodded as he side-footed his way down the slope, holding Jazz steady in his front-slung carrier. ‘Yes,’ he admitted. ‘It’s both of those things.

‘We have our best people on each inquiry, yet so far each one’s as cold as a witch’s tit.’

‘Tit,’ Jazz repeated, enunciating clearly.

‘Yes, Jazz,’ said Sarah quickly, throwing a mock-frown at Bob. ‘Like the birds in our new garden. Bird, bird, okay.’

‘Bid, Mummy, bid,’ he shouted back at her.

They cleared the last of the dunes, and stepped out on to the path which led eastwards from Gullane’s curving mile-wide beach. Mark trotted on ahead of his adoptive parents, who strode out to keep him in sight.

‘It’s early days in both investigations, honey.’ She took his hand in hers as they walked.

‘Sure, but that’s the time when our hopes of success are best. With every day that passes the trails go colder, it gets tougher for the team.

‘What have we achieved today?’ He broke off. ‘Careful, Mark! The path falls away there. Keep close to the fence.’

‘Well,’ asked Sarah, breaking the silence which followed. He looked down at her. ‘What have you achieved?’

‘Sum total? We’ve established that someone walked into the ante-room of Archergait’s Court and slipped cyanide into the water carafe which Colin Maxwell had just refilled. We’ve also established that no one saw him do it.

‘As for the robberies, we’ve established that Malky McDonnell, our last living lead, is well gone. Not exactly what I call progress, on either front, my love.’

‘What about Maxwell?’ She sounded hesitant. ‘Are you sure. .’

He laughed, ironically. ‘Wee Colin? I suppose you’re right to ask the question. There’s no argument that he filled the jug that poisoned the old boy. We’ve only got his word for it that he left the room empty and unlocked afterwards. He even stopped Brian Mackie from taking a drink from the carafe.

‘Sure, we could lift him and question him for twenty-four hours. We could give him a really hard time. At the end we might even be able to charge him. There’s only one thing wrong with that scenario.’

‘What’s that?’

‘No way did the poor man do it!’

She stopped in her tracks, pulling him to a standstill too. ‘Have you ever been wrong?’ she asked him.

‘Sure, as you well know. But not this time.’ He tugged at her hand and they resumed their walk. ‘Listen, we’re not being unprofessional about this. We’ve done checks with every chemist in town, to see if anyone’s been buying cyanide lately. Colin certainly hasn’t. And we’re also going round all known users of the stuff, to see if any have stock discrepancies. So far, no one has. ‘I asked Norman King, Archergait’s son, about Colin. He says that he and his father were good pals, going back to the old boy’s days at the Bar. They played golf together at Murrayfield. Quite often they partnered each other in the monthly medal.

‘No, love, trust me on this one. Colin Maxwell is not a murderer.’ He smiled at her. ‘Before you suggest it, he isn’t one of our bank robbers either!’

He looked down. Jazz, in his carrier, was sound asleep. ‘Here,’ he said. ‘That’s enough of the shop talk. Look what it’s done to the wee man.’

They walked on, to Freshwater Haven, and the spring from which it took its name, then round to the east sands. Normally the white beach was deserted, but on this warm evening two riders were exercising big, thoroughbred horses, letting them stretch their legs along the water’s edge. They caught up with Mark, who had stopped and was gazing down at them from the grey wall of a ruined cottage.

‘Whose are they, Uncle Bob?’ he asked.

‘I have no idea, son. Quite a few people around here own horses.’ He was on the point of asking whether Mark wanted a horse, but bit the words back. ‘One step at a time, Skinner,’ he told himself.

Leaving the galloping horses behind, they headed up from the beach and found a narrow path which ran for over half a mile around the edge of Muirfield golf course, before leading them back to the bridle path by which they had descended to the beach. By the time they reached home twenty minutes later, Jazz was stirring, but Mark was beginning to flag.

‘This is the best thing we’ve done as parents,’ said Bob to Sarah, as they watched their older son sitting on the front doorstep, wearily shaking the sand from his trainers. ‘I wish I had been brought up in a place like this.

‘How was school today, Mark?’ he called out.

‘Great,’ cried the youngster.

‘See what I mean?’

Sarah smiled as she took the boys off to prepare for bed, leaving Bob to set out their supper of salmon and avocado sauce, which she had cooked that afternoon, to be eaten cold. It had become their custom to dine in the conservatory, watching the sun going down towards the horizon. When Sarah appeared to take her seat at the table, having changed out of her T-shirt into a loose-fitting blouse, she was carrying a bottle of white wine in a cooler, and two glasses.

‘I know we decided we weren’t going to have alcohol every night,’ she said brightly, ‘but tonight, I think you need this.’

Bob nodded. ‘Yeah, I wouldn’t mind. With the funeral, then a difficult meeting with Archergait’s son, the day’s been pretty stressful. I don’t see it getting any better this week. I’ve got Annie Brown’s service tomorrow, then the old judge’s on Thursday.’

He accepted a glass from Sarah and held it as she filled it almost to the brim. ‘Christ, there won’t be many of them in the bottle.’

‘There’s another in the fridge if you need it.’

He nodded. ‘This may turn out to be the case,’ he said.

As they ate, Sarah recounted Mark’s description of his first day at his new school. ‘He seems to have made a couple of friends already. There’s a boy who lives along in Marine Terrace, and a girl round in Nisbet Road. He mentioned both of them.’

Bob grinned. ‘He won’t have any bother settling in, that one. It’s the teacher I feel sorry for. She’ll never have been hit with so many questions.’

Sarah pushed away her empty plate. ‘Speaking of questions,’ she said, quietly, ‘you still haven’t really answered mine from earlier. There’s something else troubling you, isn’t there, as well as these investigations.’

He picked up his glass, only to find that it was empty. Refilling it from the chilled bottle, he leaned back in his chair.

‘Aye, well,’ he began, swinging round to look out at the wide waterway. ‘I’m trying not to let it bother me. . and I certainly didn’t let Jimmy see it. . but I don’t know how I’m going to handle being acting Chief Constable for four weeks.’

‘Hey,’ she broke in, brightly. ‘I’d forgotten about that. You’re the big cheese while Jimmy’s on holiday. Are you telling me that you don’t find that a challenge?’

‘Sweetheart, I’m telling you that I find it something of a chore. I’m a policeman by instinct, not an administrator. Sure, I can do Jimmy’s job, but right now, when everyone else in the force is bursting their balls — or their bras — trying to clear up two of the most serious crimes we’ve ever faced, I’m going to find it hellish frustrating to be trotting along to meetings of the Police Board, the Chief Constables’ Association and God knows what else.

‘Jimmy even talked me into moving into his office for the duration, since I’ll be using Gerry, his secretary.

‘The truth is my love, I’m jealous.’

‘Of whom?’

‘Of Andy, of Neil McIlhenney, of Maggie Rose, of Mario McGuire, of Brian Mackie, of everyone with hands-on involvement in these two investigations. Christ, I’m even envious of young Sammy Pye, stuck in a room on his own for at least a week looking at video tapes for something that may not be there!’

She could see the frustration written on his face. ‘Do you know the only criticism I ever hear of you from the people under your command?’

He chuckled. ‘I’m a brutal bastard to work for?’

‘No! It’s more that you’re not. Everybody likes working for you. But what they all say is that you’re lousy at keeping your hands off.’

‘And you’re saying that having Jimmy’s job for a month is part of the process of learning to delegate. Is that what you’re leading up to?’

‘Yes, I suppose it is. But what is delegation of authority but a means of ensuring that one’s own time and skills are put to the best possible use? In Jimmy’s case, that means running with the politics of the job, and schmoozing the councillors. In yours, it most certainly doesn’t.

‘So sure, delegate. You’re not the only guy in the Command Corridor. Pass on the committee stuff to Jim Elder and stay in touch with the investigations. Keep yourself fully available to Andy whenever he needs to consult you, as he will.’

He smiled at her. ‘You’re really good for me, you know. But I doubt if Jim Elder will see it that way. If I sling most of the admin. work along to him, who’s going to do his Ops job?’

‘Simple,’ said Sarah, rising from her chair and coming round the table to sit on his lap. ‘Are you or are you not a well-resourced police force?’ He nodded. ‘In that case, ACC Elder can learn to delegate, too.’