Fifty-Four

I made it home from Glasgow in time to keep my word to my boy. The weather was fine and there was enough light in the day to let us play a full eighteen holes on Number Three.

In fact we made it round in under two and a half hours; James Andrew hits it pretty straight and I was playing only iron clubs to match his distance, so there was no time spent searching for balls in the rough. I gave him two shots a hole and he beat me, no problem. He might have only just turned nine, but he’s a better putter than me already and he always will be.

We’d been playing for a fiver. . five pence in his case, five pounds in mine. . and so Sarah, watching from a window, could tell the outcome as soon as he stepped out of the car. Incidentally, he gets very pissed off these days about having to use a child seat, but until he outgrows it physically, which will probably be soon, that’s how it will be.

‘How many?’ she asked me as I came into the kitchen. When she returned to Scotland from her sojourn in America she bought a place in Edinburgh. The arrangement was that the kids would stay with me on schooldays and be with her at the weekends, but after the reconciliation that had taken both of us by surprise, that was beginning to go by the board, and Sarah was spending more and more time in Gullane.

‘Little bugger beat me four and three,’ I confessed. ‘He wanted to play for another fiver over the last three holes, but I drew the line at that. Just as well; he won them all.’

‘You might have to start hitting proper shots,’ she suggested.

‘It’ll make no difference. In another five years he’ll be giving me shots.’

‘And you’ll be very proud of him when that happens.’ She kissed me and handed me a bowl of chilli con carne. ‘You had a phone call,’ she said.

‘Just the one?’ (So had my life become.)

‘Yeah, it makes a change. Maybe people have other things to do on a Friday night than bother you. It was your friend Jim, the guy who used to work in New Register House. He said you should call him back.’

I did, on the phone in the garden room, as soon as I’d finished my chilli. And that was the start of my weekend from hell.

Jim answered so quickly that I suspected he’d been beside the phone waiting for me to ring.

‘Have you got something already?’ I asked. ‘On a Friday night?’

‘The impossible I do at once,’ he replied, then spared me the punchline. ‘It took me no time at all. Julie Austin. Mrs Allan; she does indeed have a brother called Magnus. He’s married to a woman named Julie Smith, which must make family dinner parties a little confusing, and they have issue, two of them, Richard Edward and Cheryl Mary. Does that give you all you need?’

‘Oh hell yes,’ I said. ‘I’m in your debt. And you must send me a bill; to my office in Glasgow. This is now a police matter.’

‘In that case,’ he replied, as cheerfully as ever, ‘I’ll do so as quickly as I’ve answered all your questions.’

As I’d told Jim, I did have all I needed. Through his wife, Max Allan was Cheryl Mackenzie’s uncle. Cheryl’s relationship with David went back to their teens.

They were all bloody family, and beyond any reasonable doubt. . in my mind at least. . Uncle Max had smoothed the way for young David’s entry into the police force, by concealing a history that might well have ruled him out, even with Tom Donnelly’s name on his application.

I could have let it lie there undisturbed, and forgotten about the whole business. Indeed I might have, if Mackenzie had been a stable, reliable officer doing a job that was of value to his force. But he was none of those things, and to cap it all off, he was missing.

I thought about calling Maggie straight away. Mackenzie was on the Edinburgh payroll, not mine, and she had a right to know. But I put it off, and took out my mobile to look up a number. I was about to call it, when Sarah came into the room, and read the look on my face.

‘Trouble?’

I nodded.

‘As in weekend-screwing-up trouble?’

‘I fear it might be.’

She smiled. ‘And I said not so long ago that it had been a quiet night. I should a known.’

I made the call, and Father Donnelly answered; there was background noise, of the pub variety. ‘Bob,’ he said his voice raised, ‘hang on. I’ll have to go outside.’ I waited, then heard a sound that might have been a door closing, and the babble disappeared. ‘That’s better,’ he said. ‘What can I do for you?’

‘You could begin by telling me how you know that David Mackenzie hasn’t harmed his wife,’ I suggested.

‘No I can’t,’ he replied, ‘I really cannot; not even after a couple of pints of Coors.’

His insistence was enough stop me pressing any harder. ‘Fair enough,’ I conceded. ‘But can you tell me how long you’ve known that Max Allan and Mackenzie are related, through his wife being Cheryl’s aunt, her father’s sister?’

‘I’ve never known that, I promise you. Mrs Allan was godmother to their older child, but at no point was I told that she was family.’

‘What about their wedding? Weren’t the Allans there?’

‘No one was there, other than Mr and Mrs Austin and myself. They wanted it private because David didn’t have any family, none that he’d acknowledge anyway.’

‘I see.’

‘Bob, what’s this about?’ the priest asked.

‘This is one where I really can’t tell you,’ I assured him. ‘We all have our ethics and our duty.’

‘I understand.’

‘I need to ask you about the application form, Father,’ I continued. ‘You told me that you helped David compile it. I’d like you to think back, and tell me if you can recall whether the box relating to declaration of court appearances and police involvement was left blank.’

‘No it wasn’t,’ he declared. ‘I do recall that very well. I insisted that he put “See separate document” in there, because I didn’t want it rejected on a technicality.’

‘Right, now finally, I ask again: Max Allan was not involved in its completion and there was no way he could have seen or handled the form before you posted it. Can you confirm that?’

Part of me was hoping that he’d say ‘No’, so that the old guy would at least have some wiggle room, but he didn’t.

‘Absolutely,’ he replied.

‘Okay, Father,’ I sighed. ‘Thanks. Go back in there and have one on me.’

‘But don’t call Max, that’s what you’re saying, Bob, isn’t it?’

‘I’m afraid so.’

I let the priest return to his Friday pals, and then made the call I’d postponed earlier. Maggie Steele listened to what I had to tell her without interrupting. But got to the point as soon as I’d finished.

‘What you’re telling me,’ she said, ‘is that I’ve got a detective superintendent who’s a police officer because of a dishonest application.’

‘Exactly. And I have evidence that a recently retired ACC played an active part in that fraud.’

‘Nightmare,’ she sighed. ‘What are we going to do about it?’

‘Not we, Maggie, me. A criminal act was committed in Strathclyde. It’s my jurisdiction and it’s for me to pursue it.’

‘Not personally, surely.’

‘Absolutely. I kicked this game off, so I’ll play it to the whistle. Who knows? I might even find Mackenzie in the process.’

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