Murmuring the Judges

88

‘You don’t mind me calling in like this on a Saturday, Bob, do you?’ asked Lord Archibald. ‘I was down at Muirfield, so I thought I’d take the chance.’

‘Not at all, Archie. I was going to come and see you next week anyway.’

Sarah laid a cup of coffee and a plate of biscuits before the Lord Advocate on the conservatory table, waved a brief goodbye and returned to the kitchen.

‘You’re absolutely certain that Norman King’s in the clear?’ asked the Law Officer as she left.

‘Completely. Beatrice Gates’ illegitimate son, Bernard Grimley, murdered the three judges; I’m well satisfied of that. We found the remains of the cyanide, and a list of tide tables in his cottage. Most important of all we found not one, but two copies of Arnold Kilmarnock’s book about the Gates case. One was clean, but the other had scribbles and annotations all over it. All of the judges’ names were heavily underlined.’

Skinner picked up a biscuit from the plate.

‘Just over three years ago, Bernard Grimley decided that on his fortieth birthday he would trace his natural mother. Can you imagine what it must have done to him when he found out who she was, and what she had done? Until that point, he had been a police source in Glasgow. That stopped, from that day on. Since then, he’s been waiting for his moment. . or rather his moments.

‘King didn’t kill his father, Archie. It was this guy all right.’

Lord Archibald leaned back in his chair and let out a great sigh of relief. ‘Thank Christ for that,’ he exclaimed. ‘Or rather, thank you and your officers, Bob.

‘I’d have had to charge him you know, if you hadn’t found Grimley. I’d have had no option: well, I would, but if I’d covered it up and it had ever leaked out, it could have threatened the Government.

‘Yes, poor Norman would have gone to Court, with no defence beyond a denial, and he’d almost certainly have been convicted. Can you imagine what the minimum recommendation would have been?The rest of his natural life and ten years after that, probably!’

Skinner flashed a smile across the table. ‘But instead, he’ll be standing in the High Court next week trying to get that for some other bugger. As someone once said, it’s a funny old world.’

Lord Archibald picked up his coffee from the table, admiring the view from Skinner’s garden.

‘What about this man Jones?’ he asked.

‘I’ll let you have a formal report on that next week. It’ll say that he took revenge on Grimley for ruining his career, that he fired on the police officers who confronted him, and that he was shot dead by a marksman.’

‘That sounds very precise, Bob.’

The telephone rang, but Skinner left it for Sarah to answer. ‘It will be, Archie, be sure of it. Incidentally, Kwame Ankrah’s fine. They removed the shot from his shoulder and kept him in hospital overnight, but that was all.’

The Lord Advocate looked at him, quizzically. ‘I take it you’ll recommend that the incident be considered closed, and that no Fatal Accident Inquiry will be necessary.’

‘Spot on.’

‘What if the families of the dead men demand one?’

‘Grimley didn’t leave a family. I’ve spoken to Mrs Jones already; she won’t do that.’

‘So,’ said Lord Archibald. ‘A very tidy conclusion all round. That just about cleans up your crime wave, doesn’t it. What about the armed robbery gang, and the Galashiels murders? What about the other two shootings?’

‘Saunders and Collins, now dead, killed PC Brown and Harry Riach, respectively. We know that and we’ll announce it on Monday.

‘We’re still “anxious to interview”. . as Mr Plod would put it. . Newton, Clark and McDonnell, plus the couple we suspect of setting up the Raglan’s hold-up. But they all got away with a fair amount of cash, so I don’t hold out any hope of an early result. We’re not looking for anyone else in connection with any of the deaths.’

‘Why do I get the impression you’re choosing your words carefully, Bob?’

‘Because I always do, Archie.’

The acting Chief Constable smiled. ‘It’s not all negative though. “Acting on information received”, to use another piece of jargon, we’ve recovered the diamonds stolen from Raglan’s, and more than half the proceeds of the bank robberies. That’ll be in Monday’s statement too.’

Lord Archibald laughed. ‘How are you going to fill in your time next week?’

‘Pushing pens and playing politics, no doubt, in my temporary office!’

‘That’s good. We all deserve a quiet life for a while.’ He stood up, and turned to leave, only to see Sarah standing in the doorway of the conservatory. She held a cordless phone in her hand, and she was looking, grim-faced, at her husband.

‘It’s Chrissie Proud, Bob,’ she said, ‘calling from the hospital in Spain. I think you’d better speak to her.’