Fallen Gods

Thirty-Eight

If Skinner had been less preoccupied, he would have noticed that Andy Martin's office in the Tayside police headquarters building was bigger than his own. Indeed his friend would probably have pointed this out to him. But both had other things on their minds.

Martin's forehead was ridged in a frown to match Skinner's own. "Bob, I don't know what to say."

"Neither do I, so I'm saying nothing else until I get to Buffalo. Then I'll be asking plenty."

"Sure; just keep it level, that's all. Now, is there anything that I can do while you're away?"

Bob looked at him gratefully. "Yes, there is. A couple of things; one you'll find easy, the other maybe not. First, I'd like you to keep in regular telephone touch with Alex. Just make sure that she's okay and all that. She'll be as frantic about this as the rest of us, and she's got no one to lean on at this moment."

"Sure, I'll do that. I'll ask Karen to call her, once you've broken this to her and headed out of town; might be better."

"As you see fit. Now the other thing. When I got Oakdale's call, I was in the middle of a bit of private enterprise, involving a man named

Cecil Williamson, aka Skipper. He's a contemporary of Michael's. He's from Mother well and he runs a country house hotel up near Birnam.

It's called Fir Park Lodge.

"I was trying to get an up-to-date photo of him, without alarming the locals, to show to old Aidan. If he'd identified him, there's a guy on his payroll called dAbo, who's done a bit of time. I was proposing to have a chat with him, before I squared up his boss."

Skinner hesitated. "Andy, I know the autopsy report knocked the suspicious death investigation on its head, but…"

Martin stood up from behind his desk, and walked to the window. "That enquiry may be stood down, Bob, but we still have an interest in finding out how he wound up in the river. You've put a name in the frame, so I'll look into it. I won't be as subtle as you, either. I'll pull dAbo in straight away."

"Thanks, mate." Skinner stood himself and looked across the room at his friend. "Just in case it isn't this Skipper, it might do no harm to have a list of estate owners on your patch, especially those with salmon rivers running through them. My brother's last meal wasn't something he knocked up on a fire at the roadside. It was rich man's fare. If it wasn't Williamson, although he's a heavy favourite, I will find the man who fed it to him."

"I'll get someone on it," said Martin. "Now try and forget it for now.

You have, if I may say so, more important things to attend to."

Bob shrugged his shoulders as he headed for the door. "Maybe so, son," he murmured, 'but I will attend to them both in time, mark me on that.

Guilt is one of the strongest motivations there is, be it for covering things up, or for uncovering them. My private dread is that before I'm finished, I might have to do both."