Thursday legends

56

'So Karen won't be in the office again, sir?'

'No, Sam, she's gone: she has four weeks' leave owing; add on a couple of public holidays and effectively, as of now, she's a civvy. You're going to be on your own in here for a while, but as soon as Karen's officially off the strength you'll move into her job and I'll pick someone to replace you. I'll invite applications for the vacancy.'

'Very good, sir. I'm sorry I didn't have a chance to wish her luck though. Say it for me, will you. Good luck to you, too, of course.'

The Head of CID smiled; 'As in "You'll need it", you mean? Tell her yourself. Have dinner with us on Friday. I'll book a table somewhere.'

Sammy Pye looked at his boss: there was something different about him, something very different. It wasn't simply his pleasure at the turn of events with Karen, that was self evident, but there was something else. He was quieter, less ebullient than the Detective Constable had ever seen him, and he exuded an air of… relief. He saw the healing lip and the fading bruises and he decided to ask no questions at all.

'Two things, sir,' he said. 'First, Spike Thomson from Radio Forth called. He said that Mr Skinner okayed you for his show and can you be there at half past two.'

'Jesus. No-one told me things had gone that far. I'll do it, though. What's the second thing?'

'Superintendent Pringle, sir. He's outside. He wants a word before the Divisional CID Heads' Monday gathering.' 'Show him in, then.'

Pye nodded and left, to be replaced seconds later by Dan Pringle, looking surprisingly bright-eyed for a Monday morning. 'What's this I hear?' he began. 'You and Karen?'

'Bloody office grapevine,' Martin grunted. But he smiled nonetheless. 'True though.'

'Good for you, Andy. She's a smashing girl.'

'Yeah. And I've come to my senses at last. Was that all you wanted to see me about?'

The Superintendent shook his head. 'No, no. I've been delving into the murky world of investment management, and I wanted to talk to you about it. I've been asking around town about this Paris Simons lot that the Bryant woman mentioned. It seems that they and Daybelge are the Hibs and Hearts of the money business.'

'Or the Montagues and Capulets?'

'What league do they play in? Naw, they're serious rivals; hate each other's guts and always have done. Paris Simons used to be kings of the midden, until Diddler Shearer founded Daybelge. He knocked them off the top of the pile and they hated him for it. Their senior partner's a bloke called Luke Heard. The original Paris and Simons went to the bone yard a hundred years back. Everyone seems to have liked the Diddler, but no-one's had a kind word to say to me about Heard.

'The Bank of Scotland held a piss-up for investment managers last Christmas in the New Club. Apparently the guy got drunk and took a swing at the wee fella. He was chucked out and told never to come back.

'Now, six months later, Shearer's battered to death, and Heard's firm stands to benefit to the tune of fuck alone knows how many millions. So just for a laugh, I asked Jack McGurk to check on all flights to Kuala Lumpur from Sunday and over the next couple of days, for a booking in Heard's name.

'They all came back blank, except for Cathay Pacific; they had nothing for the period Jack asked about, but they volunteered the information that they flew a Mr L. Heard to KL last Tuesday — three days before we identified Howard Shearer's body, and even before that e-fit appeared in the press.'