Death's Door

Fifteen

Mario McGuire was smiling when he picked up the phone. Although he had not been putting pressure on the men in the field in Operation Gabriel, as he had code-named it after the link between the South Queensferry and Gullane murders had been confirmed, he knew that in the absence of progress a time would come, and fairly soon at that, when he would have to lead from the front, whatever his remit from the deputy chief constable might have been.

When McGuire had been appointed head of CID, Bob Skinner had told him that his job was not that of a general leading his troops into battle, but that of a manager, ensuring that the force’s criminal investigations, major and minor, were carried out efficiently and effectively. That meant motivating, enabling, supervising and encouraging, but not intimidating or interfering. Within the city of Edinburgh, day-to-day control was in the hands of Neil McIlhenney. He knew that one phone call to his friend would have him back in the office, but he had no intention of making it, for the same reason that he had no intention of interrupting Skinner’s hard-earned sabbatical: to do so would seem to some like a lack of self-confidence and even, to a few, like weakness.

Stevie Steele’s call, telling him that they had a positive ID on the second victim, and had begun to trace her movements on the night before her death, had come at just the right time. The investigation was regaining the momentum it had lost when the last potential lead to Stacey Gavin’s murderer had proved to be yet another false hope.

McGuire rated Steele. They were personally linked through partners past and present, but that had nothing to do with it. He played no favourites, not even with McIlhenney: if he were to fail in his job, he would face the consequences like everyone else. No, he had given the young detective inspector command of Operation Gabriel because he believed that he had one of the best analytical minds in the force. As a crime-solver he placed him ahead of anyone he knew, save two men, Skinner and Andy Martin, a past holder of his own office, gone to become deputy chief in Tayside. ‘Give Stevie a bone,’ he thought ‘and he’ll chew it up in no time flat.’

‘Mario,’ he said, to the mouthpiece of his direct line. He used it more for outgoing than incoming calls, and not too many people had the number.

‘Hello, love.’ Paula’s voice had a sigh in it: he picked up on it at once.

‘What’s up?’

‘I want you awful bad. My head’s fucked up.’

‘Eh? What’s the matter, honey?’

‘Remember last night, when I said that the effect of holding wee Louis would wear off in the morning?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Well, it hasn’t, and I’ve been thinking about it all day. I need you to tell me not to be so bloody silly, that the two of us have everything we ever wanted and that we’re going to live happily ever after.’

‘Consider it done, and get on with your day.’

‘No, it’s not as easy as that. When you say it, I need to be looking you in the eye.’

‘Princess, nothing’s as easy as that. Would you like to go out tonight? Somewhere nice and expensive?’

‘I’d prefer somewhere nice and quiet, like your place.’

‘Pasta supper?’

‘If you cook it, that’ll be nice. Bacon rolls for breakfast?’

Mario chuckled. ‘You go for them, that’ll be great. See you tonight.’