Lethal Intent

Thirty-two

'How did you know about Jay's appointment?' asked Dan Pringle. 'It isn't the sort of thing that's put on the bulletin board. The command corridor's absolutely livid about it, I can tell you.'

Mario McGuire chuckled. 'I'll bet they are.'

'Even the chief, and it takes a lot to rile Proud Jimmy. So how did you find out?' The head of CID paused. 'Of course,' he exclaimed. 'Your big pal Neil: he'll have told you.'

McGuire caught the subtle change in Pringle's tone: he and McIlhenney were not bosom companions. 'Wrong,' he said. 'Someone beat him to the punch: I had a visit from the man himself yesterday. He sat right where you're sat now.'

'I hope you had the bloody seat sterilised,' the chief superintendent growled. 'I don't particularly mind him getting the job, but it's the way he went about it. Now he's gone and he's not under my command I can tell you that I never liked the man. He's as slimy as they come.'

'He worked for you in Division, didn't he?'

Pringle nodded. 'Aye, he did, briefly. When I took over as head of C division, CID, he was my second in command, but he got his own promotion and the move to Leith not long after that.'

'Who promoted him?'

'The head of CID of the day, Alf Stein. And do you know who he moved into Greg's job?'

'No.'

'Bob Skinner. He'd been Drugs Squad commander, but Alf wanted him back in mainstream CID. It was easy to see why: he was only there for eighteen months, then he was given Western division, and leapfrogged over us all when Alf retired, me, Greg, Roy Old, John McGrigor. The rest of us could see it coming, but Greg was livid. He and Alf were Masons together and he'd thought the job was his.' He tugged at a corner of his moustache. 'So why did he come to see you?'

'I'm not sure. Maybe it was just to wind me up; if it was he succeeded.'

'I hope that's all it was,' said Pringle. 'He came to see me as well, yesterday morning, to introduce himself in his new role, so he said… although I don't recall ever having a visit from Sir John Govan when he was in that post.'

'What did you talk about? Old times?'

'Not for long. Your name came up pretty quickly. I don't know why, but he's got it in for you, son. He was asking about your split from Maggie and your relationship with Paula. Whether the second caused the first; you know.'

'I hope you told him to mind his own damn business.'

'I did, but I also told him what Maggie told me, that you and she had come to the end of the road, and that she bears Paula no grudges. It didn't stop there, though: he asked me about your business interests. I told him that as your line commander I'm happy with the arrangements you've made and, more than that, I know that the DCC and the chief are too. Did he raise any of this with you?'

McGuire nodded. 'The business part, yes; if he'd raised the other I'd have thrown him through the nearest window. He dropped some hints that I didn't like.'

'Such as?'

'Well, for a start, he said…' He paused as Pringle's mobile phone chirped a few familiar bars of the William Tell overture.

The head of CID grunted his annoyance as he took it from his pocket. 'Yes,' he barked.

As McGuire looked at him across the desk, he saw a sudden and awful change. His colleague's face grew ashen white, and he seemed to collapse into his chair. His mouth moved as if he was speaking but no sound came out. He tugged again at the corner of his moustache, but this time it was as if he was trying to rip it from his face. 'Yes,' he croaked at last. 'I'm still here. I can hear you. I just don't believe it, that's all. Yes, yes,' it came out as a moan, 'I'll be there.' He took the phone from his ear and jabbed at it as if to cancel the call, but his fingers were trembling. It slipped from his hand and fell to the floor.

'Dan!' McGuire exclaimed. 'What's up? What is it?' The man stared at him helplessly; tears filled his eyes and his mouth hung open. 'What is it?'

At last he responded. 'I've got to piss,' he mumbled, then jumped from his chair and rushed out and through the CID office.

McGuire followed him, ignoring the curious looks of his team. He pushed open the door of the male toilet; he found him standing in a stall, urinating, his shoulders shaking. A bell seemed to ring in his head, and he remembered the moment when he had been told of his father's death. He waited until Pringle was finished, and until he had washed his hands, it's family, isn't it?' he asked quietly.

'It's Ross, my daughter,' Pringle blurted out, choking back a sob. 'She's in a student flat on the Riccarton campus. They said something about a faulty gas fire. They said they couldn't revive her; the paramedics took her to the Royal. I've got to go there, Mario.'

He headed for the door, but McGuire blocked his way. 'I'll take you.'

'I'll drive myself.'

'You'd be a danger; I'm taking you, and that's it.'