Aftershock

Sixty-two

The aircraft came in from the east, and Bob Skinner knew that he was home again. The day was fine, the skies were clear and the sun was high in the sky, lending an unaccustomed sparkle to the grey waters of the Firth of Forth. He leaned forward in seat 1B, drinking in the cityscape as the pilot banked to the left.

Aileen pointed through the small window. He followed the direction of her finger to a broad building on the crest of a rise, not far from Arthur’s Seat, and below it, to the boat-shaped structure of the Scottish Parliament’s controversial home.

‘The centres of power,’ she said. ‘It hardly seems real. It looks like Toytown from up here.’

‘It is bloody Toytown,’ Bob murmured, ‘only the games are for real: half a million people laughing or crying, shopping or stealing, fighting or fucking. That’s life, honey. But you’re at the top of the pyramid.’ He leaned closer to her, his voice becoming a whisper. ‘Have I told you lately that it’s a privilege to be sleeping with you?’

She laid her forehead against his and smiled. ‘No,’ she replied, ‘but you should. Not many people have, and I’m thirty-seven years old. I’ll bet you’ve had a woman for every year of your life.’

He started to count on his fingers; at nine he clenched his fists. ‘Divide by five and you’d be close.’

‘Those are just the ones you remember.’

‘No, I’ve got a flawless memory when it comes to nooky. I was widowed for about fifteen years, and in that time I had three relationships.’

‘With anyone I’ve met?’

‘Not as far as I know. One was with a divorcée in Gullane; she moved south ten years ago. One was with a television presenter who hit the big-time and settled in London. One was with a very nice lady who decided to marry somebody else, and got it right too.’

She laid a hand on his heart. ‘Were you wounded, my darling?’

‘I didn’t have any right to be. I never asked her.’

‘That wasn’t my question.’

‘Bloody politicians,’ he grumbled. ‘Too sharp for your own good. I suppose I was, at the time, but I got over it.’

‘That’s comforting to know.’

He blew softly in her ear, making her shiver. ‘Worry not. I keep on telling you: no ghosts in our bed.’

She leaned against him as the Boeing came in to land, squeezing his hand hard in the second before the wheels hit the Tarmac. ‘I don’t have a fear of flying,’ she had told him, in the VIP lounge before the outward journey. ‘I don’t like it, that’s all.’

‘In my book,’ he had told her, ‘anyone who says that he enjoys the experience is either a fool or a liar.’

When he had booked the flights, Bob had not asked for special treatment, but the airline, spotting the First Minister’s name on the passenger list, had provided it nonetheless. They were fast-tracked off the plane and through immigration control; even so, by the time they reached the baggage hall their suitcase was waiting for them.

‘Are you just a wee bit embarrassed?’ Aileen asked, as they walked through the blue channel.

‘Not in the slightest. You’ll never get used to who you are, will you?’

‘That’s just it. I’m plain Aileen de Marco from Glasgow.’

‘That was then, honey: this is now. I’ll tell you one thing, though.’

‘What’s that?’

He glanced sideways, looking her up and down, taking in her sleeveless white shirt, short white skirt and sandals. ‘There isn’t another head of government on this blessed planet with legs like those.’

As they strode through International Arrivals, two uniformed officers, each armed with a Heckler amp; Koch carbine, gave them looks of appraisal, then, recognising Skinner, took their hands from their shoulder-slung weapons and snapped off salutes. ‘Afternoon, sir,’ said one, a sergeant.

The deputy chief constable paused. ‘Afternoon, Eck. Has Scotland changed since we’ve been away?’

‘It’s been unnaturally warm, sir. Must be something in this global warming, after all. I wish we could take off this body armour on days like this.’

‘Feel free,’ Skinner replied. ‘But before you do, write letters to your widows, just in case, and leave them with my office.’

‘It must be tough for them,’ said Aileen, as they walked on. ‘Could we do something to help?’

‘Gimme the budget and I’ll buy lighter protective gear.’ He laughed. ‘Listen to us. Our feet are barely on the ground and we’re back to work already.’

As they turned into the airport concourse, Skinner expected to see Alex waiting for them. Instead, Neil McIlhenney stood there, casual in light cotton trousers and a pale yellow shirt. ‘Welcome back,’ he said. ‘Good to see you, First Minister.’

‘And you, Neil,’ she replied. ‘How’s the baby?’

‘Brilliant.’

‘Where’s my kid?’ asked Skinner. ‘She was supposed to be doing the taxi run. Is she okay?’

‘She’s fine. You know it was her office piss-up last night?’

‘First I’ve heard of it.’

‘She probably didn’t like to tell you. They were spending the profits on a big do at the Dome. She mentioned it when I spoke to her the other day, and I offered to sub for her.’

‘Bleary-eyed job, was it?’

‘Four a.m., she reckoned.’

‘That firm makes too much money.’

McIlhenney led the way outside: his car was parked next to the doorway, being frowned upon by a bearded traffic warden with an evil eye.

‘You shouldna’ be doing this, ken,’ he grumbled. ‘Polis or no polis.’

‘We’ve had this conversation, pal,’ the detective told him. ‘Now bugger off before I arrange for you to be transferred to checking tax discs in Muirhouse.’ He opened the back door for Aileen, as Bob heaved the case into the boot.

‘This is good of you,’ the DCC said. ‘It’s Saturday, after all.’

‘No problem. We’re having a barbie later; Louise and Lauren are getting ready for it, and Spencer’s looking after his kid brother.’

‘How is your daughter? I haven’t seen her for a while.’

‘Growing. Difficult stage. Puberty and such. Missing her mum, even though she and Lou get on great.’

‘I’ve been there with Alex, remember. Don’t worry, it’s like shedding a chrysalis. She’ll be a butterfly any day now.’ He buckled his seat-belt and glanced over his shoulder. ‘Permission to talk shop, ma’am?’ he asked.

‘If I have permission to sleep,’ Aileen answered.

Skinner stayed silent as McIlhenney manoeuvred the vehicle into the constant traffic and made his way through the series of roundabouts and junctions that led to the main road. ‘How’s Stallings?’ he asked, once they were on course for Gullane.

‘She’s brilliant. She’s a real acquisition. It’s no wonder the Met were sticky about approving her transfer. Jack McGurk’s coming into his own as well; they make a really good team. Mario and I have both been impressed by the way they’ve handled the Dean investigation.’

‘We still haven’t charged anyone, though.’

‘There’s Weekes. We’ve got him.’

‘But not for the murder.’

‘Not yet. The fiscal felt he couldn’t do that, given the lack of hard evidence. We’ve done him for perverting justice.’

‘Where is he now? On remand in Saughton?’

‘No. Frankie Birtles asked for bail. We agreed, with the usual conditions.’

‘You can prove he was at the scene, can’t you?’

‘Yes, and he admits it. But that’s as far as it goes. He says he didn’t kill her and as yet we’ve got no hard evidence that says he did. When we heard about the Spanish incident. .’

‘I might argue that the fiscal could have ignored that, since it was a thousand miles out of his jurisdiction.’

‘But could you really, and expect him to agree with you?’

Skinner shook his head. ‘Not really. That reminds me, did you get my message, the one I left yesterday?’

‘Yes, and acted on it. Becky spoke to one of the guys in the local army-cadet training team. He told her that the kids are made familiar with firearms, as part of their training. They’re taught to dismantle them, then reassemble them from their component parts. Davis Colledge was very good at it, apparently. As for converting a starting pistol, the soldier told her that any idiot could do that.’

‘And this boy is not an idiot.’ The DCC frowned. ‘Neil, on that subject, there’s something I have to tell you.’

‘About being at Murrayfield Golf Club when Sugar was killed? Andy gave me a heads-up on that. What time did you get there?’

‘About eight o’clock. Had coffee and a couple of bacon rolls, hit some practice balls then teed off at ten past nine.’

‘And you didn’t see anything out of the ordinary?’

‘Neil!’

‘Sorry. I suppose you’d better dictate something and give it to Stallings to put in the murder book, just for the record. But. . if you were there, how come your name didn’t show up when we checked the names of the people who played that morning?’

‘Block booking. It wouldn’t show. In theory it leaves a bit of a hole in your witness list, but I reckon the Law Society will vouch for everyone who was there.’

‘Yes, I suppose. .’ He broke off in mid-sentence as his mobile sounded. ‘Yes?’ he said.

A new voice came from the car’s small Bluetooth speaker. ‘Superintendent McIlhenney?’

‘It better be.’

‘It’s DC Haddock here, sir. I’m in the office and I’ve just had a call from the uniform people out in West Edinburgh. There’s trouble at Weekes’s place.’

‘What sort of trouble, Sauce?’

‘They didn’t say, sir. Just that there’s been an incident. I called DI Stallings at home, sir. She and DS Wilding are heading out there, but she asked me to let you know.’

‘Thanks, lad. Keep me informed.’

McIlhenney pressed a button to kill the call, then glanced at Skinner. ‘Weekes lives up at South Bughtlin Road,’ he said. ‘That’s only a couple of miles from here. Want to take a look?’

The DCC glanced over his shoulder. Aileen was sound asleep. ‘On balance,’ he said, ‘I rather think not.’