Fatal Last Words

Eighty-five

‘And that’s it,’ said Skinner, as Brian Mackie and David Mackenzie looked back at him across his meeting table, ‘that’s how it went. In about ten minutes Sammy Pye’s going to tell the media that a woman’s been charged with three murders, but he’s not going to name her: standard practice, as we all know. About a minute later they’re going to be tear-arsing up to the Sheriff Court to find out who she is, so make sure you don’t get knocked over in the rush. I wish I could be there, to see the looks on their faces. . and the expression on hers, even more so.’

‘How do you think she’ll react?’ asked the ACC.

‘I think it’ll break her,’ the chief replied. ‘I sensed last night that she was starting to unravel. She couldn’t stop talking, once she started. Until now, she’s had a total belief in her own supremacy, her own ability to out-think everybody else. Young Collins, for example, ex-army, not an idiot, gets involved for money, and he thought he was dealing with a man. We’ve been through her place like a dose of salts. We found Glover’s hard disk and Mount’s computer, and her own records, some of which she hadn’t bothered to delete. She contacted Collins by email; there’s no indication that they ever met face to face until the morning he died.’

‘If she hadn’t been caught?’ Mackenzie murmured.

‘She’d have gone looking for Mirko Andelić, and found out very quickly that he was dead. It was a pure accident that she didn’t see Hugo Playfair’s picture in the press, or read his name, because yes, Henry Mount had spilled it to her and Glover, after he’d been to see Boras.’

‘And Boras, sir, what about him?’

‘Forget it.’ Skinner stood, ending the meeting. He signalled to McIlhenney to stay behind as the others left.

‘Do you want me in court, boss?’ the detective superintendent asked.

‘No, give young Sammy all the glory.’ He paused. ‘Once he’s had his moment, you’d better have him send the Andelić material back to Regan, and tell him it’s his again. That’s the bugger, Neil. I’ve still got a killer in my own village.’

‘No chance of Playfair being it?’ The detective shook his head almost before he was finished speaking. ‘Nah, of course there isn’t. He was the guy’s minder; once he’d lost him, he had to disappear, before we started asking him awkward questions.’

‘Yes, like who the fuck was he,’ the chief constable exclaimed as his colleague headed for the door, ‘and where had he come from. No, it’s a local; I’m sure of that. One of my near neighbours followed a man and killed him out of prejudice, battered his head in with a hammer, or similar blunt metal object.’ He froze, and suddenly his eyes were somewhere else. ‘Or similar object,’ he murmured. ‘Neil,’ he called out.

In the doorway, McIlhenney turned. ‘Sir?’

‘When you tell Sammy to send that file back to Regan, have him send two items up to me, assuming that we’re efficient enough to have the second of them. I want the post-mortem report on Andelić, complete with pictures, and I want George’s list of everyone who was in the Golf Inn on Sunday night, before he died.’