Stay of Execution

55

The Archbishop’s residence was an anonymous villa in an anonymous Edinburgh suburb. Bob Skinner had never been there before, and so as he parked in the street outside and turned into the driveway, he expected to find a sober place with white-curtained windows and a monastic look.

What he saw was a light, airy garden strewn with plaster sculptures and with fountains playing musically on either side of the pathway. There was a garage to the left with a Chrysler PT Cruiser parked in front and a Suzuki SV1000. . a very serious motorcycle, the DCC knew. . alongside it.

Father Angelo Collins opened the door in answer to his ring of the bell. ‘Whose is the bike?’ Skinner asked the young priest. ‘Yours?’

‘You have to be kidding.’ Archbishop Gainer’s voice came from within the hallway. ‘This boy thinks a Ford Fiesta’s a bit racy. No, that’s my toy out there. I saw Easy Rider when I was a kid and I was hooked. Come in, Bob. Actually, I’ve been meaning to get in touch with you. Come on through to my study.’

He led the way to a room at the back of the big, airy house, furnished with a desk, swivel chair and two armchairs. There was a flat-screen computer monitor on the desk, and a television in the corner. ‘Sit down, Bob,’ he said, collapsing into one of the armchairs. He was wearing black cords and a grey sweatshirt with one word, ‘GOD’, in large letters on the front. He saw it catch Skinner’s eye as he sat opposite him and grinned. ‘If you support a team, you have to wear the colours,’ he said. ‘What about that poor Belgian? What’s the story?’ he asked, then paused. ‘Sorry, how inhospitable can I get? Would you like a beer?’

‘I’d like several. . I have to go to witness a post mortem. . but I daren’t have even one. About the Belgian, that should be plural, not singular.’ He told Gainer about Jack McGurk’s discovery half-way through his so-called routine interviews. ‘Dan Pringle called me when I was on my way here. He’s been in touch with the Humberside police. They’ve got no witnesses, they’ve got no vehicle, but they do still have the body, pending shipment back to Belgium. Pringle’s contact told him some very interesting stuff. The man Hanno was hit by a heavy vehicle going fast. They reckon it was an off-roader or a pick-up; whatever it was it had bull-bars, because the marks of them could be seen clearly on the victim’s shattered legs. The most significant thing was what they didn’t find.’

‘What was that?’

‘Skidmarks. There were none on the road where the body was found. None at all. That means. .’

‘I know what it means,’ the Archbishop intervened. ‘It means that the driver didn’t even try to stop, but just steamed straight through the poor bloke.’

‘Correct; and that in turn says to me this was a deliberate hit-and-run. I’ve never seen a fatal involving a drunk where the driver didn’t brake hard and leave some sort of trace on the road.’

‘What about the other one, Lebeau, the one who was poisoned?’

‘It changes our thinking altogether. We’re no longer inclined to believe that he was a random victim of a contaminated product. We know the tube that killed him was bought in Newcastle on Friday while the band was there.’

‘By one of them, do you think?’

‘Not possible, they were playing at the time. I guess it was bought there to make it look as if Lebeau had bought it himself, and to make us react in exactly the way we did, by blowing the whistle and starting a national product recall.’

‘Do you think these two men were picked out, or were they random victims within the band?’

‘We don’t know for sure, but on the evidence we have at the moment, they’re random. Hanno ran out of fags and went to get more from their bus; that’s why he was outside. How could the driver of the car have known that was going to happen? It suggests that he was just waiting for any one of them. In that case,’ he continued, ‘we’ll have to give the whole bloody lot protection from now on. I’ve booked them into a hotel. .’

‘The Church will pay for that,’ Gainer told him at once.

Skinner smiled. ‘Thanks for that. I’m glad I didn’t have to ask you.’ His expression grew serious once more. ‘There is something, though. What is it with these people? Why are they here at all?’

‘I wish I could tell you,’ the Archbishop murmured, ‘but I can’t, for I’ve been asking that myself. Without bragging, Bob, I’m probably closer to the Holy Father than anyone except his brother, but not even I know why he’s invited the Bastogne Drummers to play at his rally. If you want answers, you’ll have to ask him yourself.’

The DCC’s gaze went to the ceiling. ‘Not me, Your Grace,’ he said. ‘There are very few occasions when I hide behind my chief constable, but this will be one of them. If anyone’s going to question the Pope as a potential witness in a murder inquiry it’s going to be him!’

He turned to leave, and the Archbishop moved to show him to the door. As they went along the hall, he asked, ‘What’s happened to you, Bob?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean that, compared to last week, you’re a different man.’

Skinner glanced sideways at him. ‘You sure, Jim? Are you sure it isn’t the old one coming back?’