Skinner's rules

74

Maggie and McGuire were no longer on their bench when Mackie and McIlhenney appeared, moving quietly down the lane, each clad in dark donkey jackets over thick polo-necked sweaters and police uniform trousers. They moved carefully in the dark, looking first towards the house, then at the moonlit beach.

‘Here, sir.’ Maggie Rose’s voice came from behind a clump of sand dunes. She and McGuire had moved from the beach as darkness had approached, to a point from which they could view both lane and house, without being seen from either.

Mackie and McIlhenney sat on the sand beside them. McIlhenney laid a brown paper carrier bag against the dune. ‘Thermoses and sandwiches, he explained to McGuire, who said nothing, but reached into the bag and brought out a half bottle of OVD rum.

‘What’s this then, hair tonic?’

‘It’s okay for you pair,’ McIlhenney grumbled. ‘We’re here a’ night.

‘No action?’ Mackie asked.

‘No, sir,’ said Maggie. ‘The upstairs curtains have been half drawn, like you see them now, since about four-thirty. The room’s dimly lit so we’ve only seen figures moving about; only two as far as we’ve been able to tell. No one’s been out since they arrived. The car’s never moved.

‘Do you want us to hang about for a while in case they get off their mark?’

‘No, Maggie, that’s all right. It’s after eight now. They’re not going back to Cumbernauld tonight. If they decide to go to the pub we’ll jus let them get on with it, unless more than two of them come out.

‘Your case is in the boot of my car. It’s parked behind yours. Which hotel will you be in, if we do need to contact you?’

‘We’ll book into that big grey one just off the main road. I think it was called “The Beachview”.’

‘It would be in a place like this. Okay, off you go. Be back here for eight sharp.’