A Rush of Blood

Five

Maggie Steele looked up at the façade of the divisional headquarters building in Torphichen Place. She had left her car in its secure park, but preferred to make her entrance boldly by the front door rather than casually by the back. She knew that word of her arrival would have been spread by the gate officer, but that made no difference. She remembered Skinner’s advice at the morning briefing, and wanted to gauge reaction as she walked into her old office for the first time as an ACC.

The grey stone pile was not impressive. It was an old structure, and if it had been purpose built, then it had been for an era long left behind by modern policing. Any newcomers looking at it would have been forgiven for doubting its fitness for purpose before ever stepping inside; indeed they would have been right. It was small, it was cramped, and it was yards away from the complex Haymarket road junction, making vehicle access a nightmare at the peak periods which seemed to be extending to fill most of the day. It was always a shade too hot or a shade too cold. There was nothing about it that did not need improvement.

And yet Maggie loved the place. Much of her police career had been spent there, in uniform and in CID. Its faults had been no hindrance to her rise through the ranks, and it had been the scene of the most unexpected yet uplifting turnaround in her personal life. It was where she and Stevie Steele had made their great discovery. Newly out of her unsuccessful marriage to Mario McGuire, she had been in charge of the Central CID office and Stevie had been her DI. They had known each other for years as friends and colleague. He had carried a reputation as something of a playboy, more because he had been attractive to women than from any headlong pursuit on his part, but it had meant nothing to her. He had been a nice guy and a good cop and that had been it. Until one night, one completely unexpected night when she had looked at him and everything, all her assumptions, all her certainties even, had been turned upside down. They became lovers, she fell pregnant, they were married, it was all unbelievable. . indeed, if not for Stephanie, she might have believed that she had imagined it all. Not too good to be true, but too good to last.

Life, she reflected, standing in that cold drab street, where the sun rarely shone in winter, is a series of judgement calls. We cross the road through traffic how many times a day? We flick how many switches that might be live, but are not? We drive through how many green lights trusting that we are not about to be T-boned by a skidding truck? Stevie’s fatal miss-call was to rush though a door in a cottage in Northumberland; the wrong door.

By that time she had known of her illness, and had been faced with a life-threatening judgement of her own: to carry on with her pregnancy until Stephanie was almost full term, or to have her delivered weeks early, on the edge of viability, so that she could have surgery. In the aftermath of Stevie’s death, she had taken the gamble, put the egg before the chicken and delayed her vital operation. Since the end of her follow-up treatment, her regular scans had been clear, and her consultant was smiling. Most of all, though, her baby was perfect, and every time she looked at her, she could see her father.

She shuddered, not only from the cold, and stepped towards the door entrance to the Divisional building. The door was pulled open before she reached it, by a veteran officer. ‘Good morning, ma’am,’ said PC Charlie Johnston, looking far more neat and tidy than she had ever seen him, ‘and welcome.’

‘Thank you, Constable,’ she said as she stepped inside, with a brief, formal nod, thinking, Bob was right. No more advance warning of visits.

Superintendent Mary Chambers, in uniform, was waiting for her in the public area. She repeated Johnston’s ‘Good morning ma’am’ in a voice loud enough to be heard by the sergeant and two constables who were standing, almost at attention, behind the counter. ‘Jesus,’ Steele asked herself, mentally, ‘when Bob Skinner walked in here unannounced in my time, what did he see?’

‘And to you, Superintendent,’ she replied, feeling that she wanted to loosen up, but knowing that she had to maintain the formality. Chambers half-turned, stretching out an arm as if to escort her. Just then, the door at the back of the public office swung open, and Neil McIlhenney stepped through, slipping a waxed cotton jacket over his suit. ‘Hi, Mags,’ he said with a cheery smile, and carried on his way.

Quickly, Steele headed in the direction from which he had come, leading the way upstairs, to what had been her office less than a year before. As she had expected, her former desk was neat; the files in the out-tray were stacked much higher than the in-tray. She hung her cap on the stand and slumped into a chair. ‘Bloody hell, Mary,’ she exclaimed, ‘I feel like a schools inspector.’

The superintendent laughed. ‘Want a coffee?’

‘Tea, if you have it.’

‘No problem.’

Steele watched as Chambers switched on her kettle, and found a mug and a tea bag as it came to the boil. ‘How goes?’ she asked, as Chambers finished brewing up.

‘Job or personal?’

‘Job.’ She took the mug as it was passed to her, handle first. ‘Thanks.’

‘Official report?’

‘No, I’d need that in print. Just you and me.’

‘Well, the highlight of my month is that Charlie Johnston’s two weeks off retiring. He’s a nice guy, but a throwback. He’s the original plodder after whom we’ve all come to be named, and he’s been filling in his time, drawing his pay and waiting for his pension from the day he joined the force.’

‘He’s reliable, though. He doesn’t make mistakes. His problem is that while he does everything by the book, he does it all very slowly.’

‘Tell me about it,’ Chambers grunted. ‘He seems to have an effect on time itself. If he’d boiled that kettle it would have taken ten minutes.’

Steele laughed. ‘True. Mind you he does have one virtue that you’ll miss. He knows everything. Nothing goes past Charlie, not a single fact, or piece of gossip, about what’s going on in the office. When I was here, if there was something that I couldn’t quite pin down, I always asked Charlie, and he always came up with an answer. Has he said what he’s going to do when he retires?’

‘He’s been talking about applying for a security job in one of the museums or art galleries.’

‘Tell him that I’ll give him a reference if he does. Tell him also that if he fancies the idea of being re-employed as a civilian clerk, he should give me a call and I’ll see what opportunities are available.’

‘What?’ the superintendent exclaimed. ‘Do you want the paper trail to grind to a halt?’

‘Alan Royston, the force media manager, has a vacancy. While Charlie has a nose for gossip, he never gives anything away. He might be a good guy to have mixing with journalists.’ She sipped her tea. ‘OK, Charlie’s departure’s the highlight. What about the rest?’

‘We’ve been quiet. There’s been an increase in call-outs for shoplifting, a by-product of the economic slump, I suppose, but otherwise we’re not over-stretched.’

‘Got everything you need?’

‘Apart from a new building, you mean? That apart, for the moment we’re fine.’ She paused. ‘Ach,’ she resumed, ‘I go on about this place, we all do, but it works. We do a decent job here, so we can go on with it for a while.’

‘Don’t be too quick to tell me that, or anyone else in the command corridor. Do that and you’ll stay a low investment priority. Complain, Mary, complain.’

Chambers smiled. ‘If you insist. Charlie Johnson says that the gents’ toilets are what he’ll miss least about this place.’

‘That’s a surprise; he’s spent a good part of his career in there. But act on it; ask the guys, and if they agree, drop me a memo. If we refurbish the gents’, the ladies’ will be done at the same time, automatically. From what I remember, they’re not too fresh either. Right,’ she said, ‘that’s what you need. Now, is there anything you want to ask me?’

She waited. ‘Well,’ the superintendent replied, finally, ‘there’s the job, this job, the one I’m in. I’m still only acting divisional commander, and I’m way down the list for promotion to chief super. What’s my situation?’

‘That’s with Brian Mackie and the boss, but do you want it permanently? You have the option of going back to CID.’

‘I’d be a spare wheel there, in this division at any rate. Becky Stallings may only be a DI, but she’s bloody good; besides, with the new structure, and her reporting to Neil McIlhenney, my old job doesn’t seem to be there any more. So for now, if there’s a chance, I’d like to stay here.’

‘In that case, I’ll fix it. You’re right in that I can’t swing an early promotion, but I’ll speak to the chief, and tell him I want you here.’

Chambers looked at her gratefully. ‘Thanks, Maggie. I appreciate that; I’ve been feeling in limbo lately, at work at any rate.’

Steele looked at her. ‘I wouldn’t be doing it if I didn’t believe it was best for all of us; you, me and the force.’ Her expression softened. ‘Going back to CID, how’s young Sauce getting on? He’s been an unofficial protégé of mine ever since he was the rawest of probationers, under the warm and comforting wing of PC Johnston.’ She shook her head. ‘I still can’t get over my predecessor putting a rookie at risk by sending him out with Charlie.’

‘From what I see, and hear, he’s doing bloody well. Jack McGurk told me the other day that the lad keeps him on his toes, and Jack’s a hard guy to please.’

‘That’s good to hear. It doesn’t surprise me, though; that kid’s got “high-flyer” written all over him.’ She grinned, then performed one of her trademark switches of subject. ‘You’ve been in limbo at work, you said. Should I read anything into that, away from the office?’

For a few moments, Mary Chambers’ plain square face took on an expression that might almost have been described as coy. ‘Well,’ she began, ‘you know my relationship broke up a wee while back?’

‘Yes, I was sorry to hear it. I thought it was pretty stable.’

The superintendent shrugged her shoulders. ‘It had run its course. It was mostly my fault. Cop’s disease; I got so wrapped up in the job that I was never really at home, and my other half finally got fed up with it and found other interests.’

‘I know that one,’ Steele admitted. ‘It was what happened to Mario and me. So how are things now?’

‘Getting better. I’ve met somebody, somebody new.’

‘Good for you. Is it public knowledge yet?’

Chambers shook her head. ‘No, not yet. It will be soon, though; I’m planning to do something really reckless, and take her to the divisional dance on Friday. It’ll ensure a lively evening, if nothing else.’

‘I’ll look forward to meeting her.’

‘Are you going to be there?’

‘For a while. So’s the chief, each of us unaccompanied.’

The other woman looked alarmed. ‘Is he? Oh my God, I’m not sure I’m brave enough for that.’

‘Don’t be daft,’ Steele declared. ‘One thing about Bob Skinner: he’s as liberal as they come. . apart from where his daughter’s concerned, and there isn’t a cat’s chance in hell it’s her you’re taking to the ball.’