Fatal Last Words

Six

‘You know what I’d like to see on your government’s agenda?’ Bob asked as he took the right turn on to the dual carriageway that headed out of Edinburgh, to the east and the south. ‘You should make this road motorway right down to the border. Perhaps that would shame the English into upgrading their side, and go some way into cutting the number of deaths on the damn thing.’

Aileen had heard the complaint before, not only from him but from opposition MSPs. ‘Give me the money,’ she replied, ‘and I’ll do it.’

‘Raise your own taxes and you’ll be able to,’ he countered.

She stared at him. ‘You know, your politics bend with the wind. Most people think you’re right-wing; eventually I pin you down as left of centre, now you’re turning bloody nationalist on me.’

‘No, I’m not,’ he protested. ‘I’ll always support you. But there’s a compelling argument for cutting ourselves free-’

She laughed. ‘. . from the oppressive yolk of Westminster, were you going to say? Are you sure you’re not writing speeches for my opposite number in the Parliament?’

In spite of himself, he grinned. More and more he was finding it difficult to maintain a serious discussion with her; whenever she wanted she seemed able to deflate him, and to steer them back on to comfortable ground.

‘That’ll be the day. Did you enjoy last night’s event?’ he asked, changing the subject with no pretence of subtlety.

‘Very much,’ she said. ‘Sir James Proud’s last occasion as host at an ACPOS dinner; it was an honour to be invited.’

‘Yours and ours, my dear. Mind you, I’ve a confession to make: Jimmy engineered it. The rest of us insisted that Chrissie should be there. Although we have women members, he wanted another female guest, and who better for the Association of Chief Police Officers Scotland to invite along than the First Minister?’

She wrinkled her pert nose; it was a trademark gesture. ‘I’m not fussed. I’ll turn up for a decent dinner even if I am window dressing. It was good to see Andy Martin there too. Why didn’t he take up your offer of a bed at the residence, do you think?’

‘By the time I asked him, he’d booked his hotel. Also, I suspect he knew that we’d be up and off at the crack of dawn.’

‘He knew that you would, you mean. It’s a pity he wasn’t there this morning. You could both have gone across to the square. That would really have made Randy Mosley’s day.’ She paused, and took a sip from the water bottle that Skinner always carried in a holder in the central console of his car. ‘Why were the police there, by the way? You never did tell me; just rushed me off when you got back.’

Bob’s eyebrows came together in a frown. ‘I’ve been saving that one. If I’d told you straight away, you might have insisted on going across there to see for yourself, and they’re going to be busy enough.’

She twisted in the passenger seat, to look at him directly. ‘What do you mean?’

‘There was a sudden death,’ he told her. ‘One of the guests at the opening party went off into the green room and turned purple. He seems to have taken a heart attack and died, at least that’s what the doctor says. He was locked in through someone’s mistake, and wasn’t found until this morning, when Randall turned up to open the site.’

‘That’s terrible. But what makes you think I’d have wanted to see? It’s not how I’d choose to begin a Sunday, or any other day for that matter.’

‘Maybe not, but this is going to break into your day. The dead man’s known to you.’

Her mouth hung open for a second or two. ‘Who is it. . or who was it?’ she asked. Her eyes widened. ‘Bruce Anderson was speaking there last night. It isn’t him, is it?’

‘Hmm,’ Skinner grunted. ‘Not him, or I’d have been grinning all over my face when I got back. No, it was Ainsley Glover, best-selling crime writer turned populist Member of the Scottish Parliament.’

‘Oh no,’ she sighed.

‘I’m afraid so.’

‘There’s no mistake?’

‘My darling, when I said he’d turned purple in the hospitality room I was speaking the truth. He couldn’t have got any deader if he tried.’

‘What a pity. I didn’t have much of a chance to get to know him, but he seemed a nice man.’ She fossicked in her bag for her phone. ‘I must call the duty press officer and tell him to put out a statement of regret, expressing sympathy to the family.’ She sighed. ‘Oh, what a shame; I was really looking forward to seeing him perform in Parliament. You know, I was even thinking of offering him a job in the administration. He got in on his anti-Trident ticket, but he seemed to be shaping up as an ally of ours.’

‘I’d have marked him out as the opposite, given his views.’

‘Not necessarily; in fact, the Parliament’s pretty solidly anti-Trident. Most of my people are, all the Nats and even one or two Tories, in private. No, Ainsley was quietly socialist. The truth is, he used to be a member of our Edinburgh Pentlands constituency party. We found that out during the election, but I made our campaign managers keep quiet about it. It was pretty clear that the seat he was fighting was going to be between him and the Nationalists, and sure as hell we didn’t want them to win.’ She gasped, then let out a low moan. ‘Oh Jesus! That’s just what I do not need.’

‘What?’

‘There’ll have to be a by-election. And if the Nats win this time, they’ll have the same number of seats as us. Remember your interesting suggestion earlier on, that I should run a minority government? If Glover’s seat goes to them, they’ll have just as much right to do that as we will. You might just find yourself marrying the Leader of the Opposition, not the First Minister.’

He reached out his left hand and ruffled her hair. ‘In case you haven’t noticed, I’m marrying you, not either of those.’