Pray for the Dying

Thirty-Six

‘So this is where it all happens,’ Sarah Grace said, with a smile in her tone as she looked round the room that had become his. ‘This is the nerve centre of Scottish policing.’

‘A week ago,’ Bob told her, ‘I would have denied that suggestion, with all the vehemence at my disposal. Today, I’m forced to agree with you.’

‘I prefer the command suite in Edinburgh,’ she confessed. ‘It has a more, I dunno, a more lived-in feel about it. This is all very antiseptic, very impersonal.’

‘Honey child,’ he laughed, ‘don’t you think that might be because I haven’t had time to stamp my personality on it?’

‘Maybe. I’m sure you will. . as long as that doesn’t involve importing that coffee machine you inherited from your old mentor Alf Stein.’

‘It won’t, I promise you. You told me I should give myself a caffeine holiday and that’s what I’m doing. I haven’t had a coffee this week. Are you pleased with me?’

She grinned. ‘Yes and no. If you really are sticking to it, that might mean I have to give up too. When you’re around, at least. Speaking of which,’ she added, ‘do you want to stop off tonight? The Gullane house will be empty, since the kids are with me.’

‘I think I would like that very much, although I do have something to do there, before the place can be truly empty.’

‘Can I help?’

‘Mmm,’ he mused. ‘No, I don’t think so. I don’t reckon either of us would feel right if you did.’

‘Ah,’ Sarah whispered. ‘I think I can guess what you mean. Clearing out all the evidence, yes?’

‘Yes, at the other party’s request.’

‘Then you’re right. That is something you should do on your own. . unless it involves a bonfire, in which case I’ll be happy to help.’

‘Hey, hey!’

‘I’m joking,’ she said. ‘The strangest thing happened to me this morning. I saw the newspapers and all of a sudden I found that I don’t bear that woman any ill-will, not any more, however she might feel about me.’

‘To be honest with you, Sarah,’ Bob confessed, ‘I don’t believe she feels any way about you, and I doubt that she ever did. She thought I was somebody I’m not. Now she’s found out the truth, she’s happy to make me, and everything to do with me, part of her past.’

‘Does that include not trying to take you for plenty in the divorce?’

‘That hasn’t been mentioned,’ he grinned, ‘and I’m not going to raise the subject.’

He loaded a handful of documents and files into his attaché case, an aluminium Zero Halliburton that Sarah had given him as a birthday present a few years before, clicked it shut and picked it up. ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘Constable Davie, my driver, will be waiting for us in the car park.’

He turned, and was in the act of heading for the door that led directly into the corridor when he saw a small, crumpled, moustachioed figure in his anteroom, his hand raised as if he was about to knock on the door.

‘What the hell?’ he murmured. ‘Hold on a minute, love,’ he told his ex-wife. ‘There’s something up here. Detective sergeants don’t turn up uninvited in the chief’s office without a bloody good reason.’

He signalled to Dan Provan to enter, but the little man stood his ground. ‘What the fu-’ Skinner muttered. ‘Sit down for a minute, Sarah,’ he said. ‘Maybe the wee bugger’s scared of strange women.’

He walked towards the glass doorway, then stepped through it into the outer office. ‘Yes, Dan?’ he murmured. ‘Where’s your DI and what can I do for you?’

‘She’s detained, sir, downstairs in the office.’

Skinner had a low annoyance threshold. ‘What the fuck’s detaining her? Has it paralysed her phone hand?’

‘No, sir, you don’t understand. Ah’ve detained her. Out of bloody nowhere she’s become involved in the investigation. The rule book requires that Ah do that and report the matter to senior officers, plural. In this case, Ah don’t think that means a couple of DIs.’

The chief’s face darkened; looking up at him, Provan, experienced though he was, felt a chill run through him.

‘Where is she?’ Skinner murmured.

‘She’s in her private office, boss. DC Paterson’s with her; Ah’ve ordered him not to allow her to make any phone calls or send any texts.’

‘You’ve done that to Lottie?’ Skinner said, and as he did he realised how upset the sergeant was. ‘Right, let’s hear about it, but not here.’

He opened the door behind him and called out to Sarah, ‘Urgent, I’m afraid. Hang on please, love; I’ll be as quick as I can.’ Then he led the way into the corridor and along to ACC Gorman’s office, relieved to see through the unshaded glass wall that she was behind her desk. He rapped on the door, and walked straight in.

‘Bridie, sorry to interrupt, but something’s arisen that DS Provan feels he has to bring to the top of the reporting chain. He’s been around long enough to know the rule book off by heart, so we’d better hear him out.’

‘Of course.’ Skinner’s deputy rose. ‘Hi, Dan,’ she said. ‘You look as though the cat’s just ett your budgie.’

The little sergeant sighed. ‘Ma’am, if it would make this go away Ah’d feed it the bloody thing maself.’

‘So what do you have to tell us?’ she asked.

‘To show you,’ he corrected her. ‘Is your computer on?’

‘Give me a minute,’ she said, then pressed a button behind a console that sat on a side table.

The command suite computers were of more recent vintage than those in the floors below, and so it was ready in less than the time she had requested.

Provan inserted the DVD he had brought with him into a slot at the side of the screen. ‘This is CCTV footage,’ he explained to the two chief officers, ‘from the Easthaven Retail Park. It was taken on Friday evening. Our investigation established that the two men who killed Chief Constable Field went there at that time, and later Bazza Brown’s brother, Cec, told us that he took Bazza there as well. Now, please watch.’

He played the recording in the same way that he had shown it to his DI twenty minutes earlier, stopping as the Peugeot roared away from the park.

‘That’s your homicide wrapped up,’ Skinner remarked. ‘But where did the parcel come from?’

‘Watch again,’ Provan replied, rewinding the recording by half an hour, showing Brown’s drop-off by his brother, the unexpected encounter, and the handing over of the package. Once again, he froze the action to show the newcomer’s face.

‘I see,’ the chief constable murmured. ‘Are you going to tell me who that is, now?’

It was Bridie Gorman who answered. ‘I can tell you that,’ she hissed. He looked at her and saw that her eyes, normally warm and kind, were cold and seemed as hard as blue marble. ‘That is Scottie Mann, one-time police officer until the bevvy got the better of him, and still the husband of Detective Inspector Charlotte Mann. What’s the stupid fucking bastard gone and done? Dan, what was in the parcel? Do you know?’

‘I would bet my maxed-out pension, ma’am,’ the veteran detective declared, ‘that it was two police uniforms and two equipment belts.’