Poisoned Cherries

Chapter 37

I don’t know how I did it, but I made it to Advocates’ Close at the appointed hour next morning, looking reasonably fresh-faced, and feeling fit and ready for work. When the alarm woke me, at six on the dot, Mandy was up and dressed. She offered to make breakfast while I showered but I knew that the caterers would be taking care of that in the production trailers in Cockburn Street.

The location was so near at hand that I was able to walk there in only a couple of minutes.

The book says that it’s dark and raining when they find the body, but Miles had taken a liberty with that as well. If we’d shot in darkness we’d have had to spread it over at least two nights, and the cost would have shot up. As I said, the man knows the value of a pound.

Advocates’ Close was blocked off when Mandy and I got there, guarded by policemen, who were actually extras in uniform. The High Street was open to traffic, though, and a small crowd of onlookers had gathered at the barrier; some, but not all of them, were on the payroll. Once the cameras started rolling, though, all the punters would be cleared away. Continuity is everything in film; if the faces in the background changed from shot to shot, it would stick out like a sore thumb.

Speaking of which, as I eased my way through the crowd, I saw Ricky Ross standing inside the alleyway. I walked up to him, and Mandy strolled off to join the other minders. ‘She picked you up, then?’ he asked, nodding after her.

‘She never left my side,’ I told him, ‘as per your orders.’

‘You should be so lucky,’ he muttered, sarcastically. ‘The Ice Maiden’s above the likes of you, son. Her job’s to collect you from your flat and get you here on time, and that’s that, so don’t you get any ideas.’

‘As if I would.’ I changed the subject, fast; if Mandy’s visit had been extra-curricular, I didn’t want him to get more of a sniff of it than I’d given him already. ‘Have your people spotted the guy who was following me?’ I asked him.

‘Sorry. There hasn’t been a trace. You are sure about him, are you?’

‘Of course I’m fucking sure!’

‘Okay, okay, keep your hair on. You’ve probably spooked him. Chances are he was just an idiot punter and you’ll never see him again, but we’ll keep looking, and I’ll keep the cover on Susie.’

‘Thanks.’

For the first time, I wondered about his presence there. ‘Where’s Alison?’ I asked.

‘Still at home. I’ve got someone watching her too, though.’

‘Do you really think she’s at risk?’

‘I’m not taking any chances,’ he said, curtly.

I caught something in his voice. ‘Here, Ricky,’ I challenged, ‘are you getting keen on her?’

He glared at me. ‘I like the girl, okay?’

‘Christ, it’s thanks to you she could be going to the slammer!’

‘I don’t need reminding about that, thanks. Anyway, she won’t; I’ve seen who the judge is likely to be. He and I were at school together; if I speak on her behalf she’ll get probation, okay.’

I laughed loud enough to turn the heads of the minders, who were gathered in a group at the foot of the Close. ‘Is there anything in this bloody city,’ I asked him, ‘that can’t be fixed by the power of the old school tie?’

‘Cancer,’ he said, cheerfully, ‘but that’s about all.’

‘You won’t be so sure of yourself if the police tie her to Anna Chin.’

‘They won’t. I’ve had word; they’ve got a new lead. They haven’t given up on the intruder theory, but they’re off following the scent of Anna’s boyfriend now.’

That got my attention. ‘Her boyfriend? But that’ll lead them straight to David Capperauld, and Alison.’

He shook his head. ‘Not him. He must have been on the side. She had an official boyfriend, a corporal in the Parachute Regiment. He’s on leave just now; Anna’s father told the CID they had a blazing row a few days ago.’

‘Sure, about Capperauld.’

‘No. That’s not what the father said, and it’s not what the soldier’s saying. Their story is that he was pressing her to give up her job and go south to live with him, and that she refused, point blank.’

‘Because she was having it off with David.’

‘I’m telling you; his name hasn’t come up.’

‘For now,’ I said, gloomily.

Behind me I heard a buzz among the punters in the crowd of onlookers. I turned, just in time to see them part, as Glen Oliver led Ewan Capperauld on to the set. I checked my watch; dead on time.

‘Okay,’ came a voice from the foot of the Close. ‘Actors to make-up,’ Miles commanded. ‘Let’s make a movie.’