Gallery Whispers

18

'Neil doesn't have the problem, Andy. It's Olive who's in bother.'

'Cancer?'

'Look, don't ask me about it, man. The big fella asked me for help and I got Sarah involved. If he wants to tell anyone about what's happening, he will. But until he does say something, you and Mackie forget about seeing them. Okay?'

Martin nodded, emphatically. 'Absolutely. I'll call Brian to let him know; not that he's an office gossip type, mind you. Christ,' he said, 'it's a cliche, I know, but something like this doesn't half put your own troubles into perspective.'

'Don't talk to me about them either. Sarah and I have decided that you and Alex can sort your own lives out. Selfish bastards we may be, but you two are adults. Only you know how you feel.'

He spun away from the window of his office. 'Let's change the subject. How's the Weston investigation coming along?'

'It's not going to be a quick fix,' the Head of CID replied. 'That much I do know. The husband looked like a good bet, but he claimed that he was at home in bed with his wife. Brian's gone to interview the lady, but I've no doubt he was telling the truth.'

'Anyone else in the frame?'

'Well, there's the son, Raymond. Professor Weston let slip that he has a car up in Aberdeen, so it's possible that he could have driven down to Oldbams. He's only a kid, though; just eighteen. I don't think for a minute that his mother would have involved him in helping to end her life.'

'Still, he'll have to be interviewed,' said Skinner.

'Sure, I know, but it's not a priority. No, there's one other line of enquiry open to us. Mrs Weston was killed with a pharmaceutical quality drug. If we can trace the source…'

'You're sure it couldn't have been street heroin?'

'Bob, the stuff was absolutely pure. If anything like that was in circulation, we'd be finding bodies all over the city.'

'Aye, I suppose you're right. So what are you going to do about it?'

'We're doing it right now. Rose and Steele are contacting the Chief Pharmacists in every hospital in the city, asking them to verify their stocks of diamorphine, and report any short-falls. The Drugs Squad maintains regular contact with the only manufacturer in the area, but their procedures and security are exemplary, so I don't believe for one moment that the stuff that killed Mrs Weston came from there.'

The big DCC sat on the edge of the Chief's desk. 'It's bloody difficult to nick heroin from a hospital pharmacy as well. The stuff's kept under lock and key, and only released on a doctor's signature.' He looked across at Martin. 'But maybe if you were a doctor… a consultant, even.'

'But Nolan Weston didn't do it.'

'According to his wife. Come on, Andy; if you had solid circumstantial evidence against some hooligan and he offered his wife as an alibi, would you accept it at face value? Bloody sure you wouldn't.

Professor's wives don't tell porkies? Is that what you're saying to me?'

'Touche!' The chief superintendent laughed, gently. 'However if you were a juror — not a cynical bastard of a copper, but an ordinary, innocent, conscientious juror — and the nice, pregnant Prof's wife stood up in the witness box and swore on the Bible that when her predecessor was off-ed, she was making him a nice cup of hot chocolate, would you believe her? Almost certainly, you would.' It was Skinner's turn to smile.

'Anyway,' continued Martin. 'I believe Weston.'

The acting chief constable pushed himself off the desk and took two steps back to the window. 'Okay, I won't argue with that.' Suddenly his right hand shot up, index finger pointing at his colleague. 'So Weston didn't do it. But maybe he supplied the diamorphine.'

'He denies that too.'

'Nonetheless, let's see what your check with the hospitals shows us.' He turned once more to look out of the window, but stopped and looked back at the younger man.

'Oh aye, and make sure you check that St Martha's place as well. If I wanted to misappropriate some smack, I'd do it there rather than at the Western or the Royal.'

'Brian and I covered that when we were there,' the Head of CID countered. 'They store some prescription drugs there, but not diamorphine. They buy their supplies from the pharmacy at the Royal, on prescriptions signed by the doctors who consult there. The dragon Miss Pople signs personally for every issue.'

'Bugger. Are you trying to slam every door in my face, pal?'

'No.' Martin smiled. 'Look, just let us get on with it. Bob, eh. There's nothing you would do if you were running this show that we won't cover, believe me.'

'Sure, I know that, my friend. Don't mind me; it's just this bloody office. It may be only a hundred yards from yours, but when the door's closed it seems like miles.

'You carry on, and I wish you the best of luck; for you're going to need it. Without evidence tying anyone to the scene, you're going to have to find the source of the diamorphine to have a chance of clearing this one up.'

'Don't I know it' He broke off as the door opened and Gerry Crossley's head appeared.

'Sorry to butt in, Mr Skinner,' he said. 'Will you take a call from DI Impey of Dumfries and Galloway Special Branch. Neil's not available, so he's asked for you. He says it's really urgent.'

The DCC smiled. 'Mcllhenney must have put the frighteners on him right enough,' he said to Martin. 'He's probably decided to report everything as of now, on an urgent basis.'

'Okay, Gerry, put him through.'

He crossed to his desk and sat behind it, picking up the phone on the first ring. 'Inspector,' he barked, 'What have you got?'

'A possible contact with our target, sir. We're following him right now, and he's heading your way.' Impey's voice sounded hollow; there was a rushing noise in the background.

'Tell me you're not calling on a car-phone, Inspector,' said Skinner, heavily. 'Please tell me that. Those things are about as secure as a politician's fly.'

'I'm sorry, sir,' said the detective, a shade plaintively. 'I'd no choice. It all happened so fast. I didna' even have time to pick up my sergeant.'

'Okay, just tell me where you are. Minimum details.'

'I'm on the road from Moffat to Edinburgh, up by the Devil's Beeftub. Our subject's in a red Vauxhall Vectra, Northern Ireland registration Delta Echo Whisky 4357.'

Skinner thought fast. 'Okay. If you're on that road you won't come off it before Leadbum, that's for sure. Is there a lot of traffic?'

'Aye, sir, there's a convoy of two tourist buses and three lorries up ahead. It'll be slow going, like.'

'Well just you be sure that your man doesn't get the jump on you as he clears it. Don't let him twig you either, though. When you get to the Leadbum junction you'll find Mario McGuire parked and waiting for you. Transfer into his car as quick as you can and continue surveillance.

'Brief Mario on the circumstances when you team up.'

'Very good, sir,' said Impey, his words crackling as his earphone lost its signal.

Martin, curious, was gazing at Skinner as he hung up.

'Hawkins?'

'Could be. If it is, I only hope he doesn't rumble our friend Impey, otherwise we'll find the poor bastard dead in a ditch up Tweedsmuir way.'