Lethal Intent

Seventy-one

When Maggie Rose arrived at police headquarters for her lunch date with Bob Skinner, she discovered that they would be eating in private and not in the senior officers' dining room as she had thought.

A table had been set up in the deputy chief constable's office, and a bottle of sparkling water was cooling in an ice bucket.

Skinner was on the phone when Jack McGurk showed her in: he had his back to her and was speaking quietly so she could hear nothing of what was being said, but when he ended the call and turned to her she could see a concerned expression on his face. 'Problem?' she asked.

'I hope not. There's someone we've been trying to contact all morning, without success.'

'One of our people?'

'No, a friend. It relates to something we have on the go just now.'

By telling her next to nothing he had told her a lot: somewhere within their territory, or sphere of influence, an operation involving another organisation was under way, one of sufficient sensitivity for him to be unwilling or unable to divulge its details. He knew that she would realise this, but he knew also that she would put the moment out of her mind as soon as she left his room.

'Sit yourself down,' he invited, ushering her to one of the two chairs at the neatly set table. 'Would you like a sherry before we eat?'

She declined. 'No, thank you, sir. I drove myself down from the office.'

He grinned. 'I didn't mean a whole bottle, but as you wish.' He took the silver covers from the two plates that lay already on the table, revealing a starter of avocado and prawns, then opened the mineral water and filled two glasses. 'I hope I've remembered your tastes from when you worked on this floor,' he said.

'This is a good start,' she told him, as they picked up their cutlery and began to eat.

'Are you enjoying being back in uniform?' he asked her.

'As much as any of us does,' she replied, candidly. 'But I really am enjoying the job that goes with it.'

'Even when you're out in the rain doing crowd control at a Hearts home game?'

'Even then. Divisional command's made me think in a different way than before, and see the wider picture again.'

'Plus, you get to deal with people who aren't criminals; that's how Willie Haggerty put it to me when I asked him the same question.'

'He's right. I feel that I'm part of respectable society, rather than just the underbelly. Didn't you feel the same when you reached command rank?'

Skinner grinned. 'Maybe, but I like being part of the underbelly. Sure it's a multi-faceted job, but I'm the sort of cop who joined up to put away the bad guys, and I always will be.'

'Speaking of which, do you know how Stevie's getting on with his investigation? I haven't spoken to him since breakfast this morning.'

'I had a report from him half an hour ago. He's got a firm line of inquiry, and a man in his sights.'

'A suspect.'

'Let's just say it's someone who'll have to have a good story when we speak to him.' He laid down his fork. 'Can I turn it around? How are you getting on with Stevie? That's a purely personal question, by the way, nothing to do with the job.'

'I know, and I'm touched that you ask it. The answer is that we're fine. To be honest, boss, I am truly domestically happy for just about the first time in my life, and it feels great. I enjoy waking up in the morning, I enjoy going to sleep at night, and I enjoy all the bits in between.'

'That's great,' he said, sincerely. 'A lot of people who know you both will be pleased to hear that.'

'As far as the job's concerned,' she continued, 'I don't have a problem working in the same place as him. If you were wondering, that is.'

'I wasn't, but again, it's good to know. Still…'

There was a knock on the door. 'Okay!' he called out, and Maisie, the dining-room waitress entered, pushing a trolley.

'Beef olives for two,' she announced. 'Chips and carrots.'

'As requested,' said the DCC, watching as she served them.

'You were going to say,' Maggie ventured, as she left. 'There was a "Still…" hanging in the air.'

'True. I was going to add… that shouldn't close your mind to other situations. Hell, I'll get to the point. Dan Pringle's going; understandably, after the tragedy, he wants to devote all his time to Elma. So I'm looking for a new head of CID. I've made no decisions yet, indeed I've been too busy to give it much thought, but I want to know this. When I consider the candidates for the job, do you want your name to be on the list? I know you're new in divisional command, but you're an experienced and very talented detective officer. If you tell me you're interested, I'll consider you with the others.'

She stared at him, across the table. 'You still have the power to surprise me, boss. I thought you had invited me here to tell me very politely that you were going to move either Stevie or me to a different station.'

She gulped. 'I don't know how to tell you this, and I'm very grateful that you would think of me for one moment as Dan's successor, but I have to decline. There's the practical, personal point that Stevie's career is clearly CID, for a while at least. I would feel awkward living with him and commanding him, but also, although you're right, I am new in my present job and I could go somewhere else without creating too big a gap, I feel that I've made a commitment to the post, and I want to see it through to its conclusion.' She stopped for a moment, then continued, nervously, 'There is one other thing: I am not sure that you would want a head of CID who's hardly in the office before she goes off on maternity leave.'

Skinner stared at her across the table, before exploding in a laugh. 'That guy Steele,' he bellowed. 'I should put him on a disciplinary for interfering with executive planning. Oh, Mags, congratulations, that's terrific. Bugger the job, it's secondary. I'm as happy for you, my friend, as you are for yourself.' He rose, walked to the small fridge beside his desk and took out a half-bottle of champagne. 'Sod the iced water. This has to be toasted.'