‘She’ll probably be in a better state than she was when she arrived,’ Bob replied. ‘If I didn’t think so, I’d have insisted that she stay the night. She got something off her chest that’s been festering for too long. I suspect its intensity surprised even her. I don’t recall my daughter ever getting so emotional.’
‘Does she have any surviving grandparents? I know your folks are dead, but what about her mum’s?’
‘No, they’re gone too,’ he told her, as they walked through to the garden room. ‘I never really got to know Myra’s dad, but I confess that I miss her mother more than I miss my own. Which reminds me, lady: when do I get to meet my new prospective in-laws?’
‘When they get back from my dad’s retirement trip, in a month or so.’ She laughed. ‘And when I’m sure that my mother will behave herself. She’s only ten years older than you, she’s pretty attractive and she’s a hell of a flirt.’
‘Does your dad play golf?’
‘He’s a member of Royal Troon; handicap eleven, last I heard, so you’ll be giving him shots.’
‘With pleasure. He can bring his clubs when they come to visit us.’
‘No, dear, you can take yours. Custom dictates that you call on him to ask for my hand, doesn’t it?’
‘Maybe he’ll tell me I’m not having it.’
‘You’ve got all the rest, so it won’t matter much. What’s a hand, anyway? But worry not, he approves of you. He knows you by reputation, and he’s a big fan.’
‘What’s he like. . off the course, that is?’
‘I doubt if he votes for me.’
‘I’ll bet he does. If my daughter told me she was standing for the Raving Loonies at the next election I’d vote for her.’
‘You would too! My mum votes Labour; I know that for sure.’ She paused. ‘Bob, changing the subject, that chat you and Andy had, indeed Andy’s visit itself, what was that about?’
‘I need his help, love. It’s these killings: the pointers to me are beyond coincidence. Somebody’s trying to set me up, and the way things are going he’s succeeding. I’m trying to head it off before it all gets beyond control and sucks you in, and Andy’s my best hope.’
‘Can’t you do it yourself? You’re usually your own best hope.’
‘How can I investigate myself?’
‘Point taken.’ Aileen frowned, and bit her lip. ‘Bob,’ she said, ‘last Thursday morning, when the Sebastian woman was shot, I was swimming alongside you at the time. Don’t you remember?’
‘No, because you weren’t. The pool’s not that big; I’d have noticed. You were upstairs all the time, sound asleep.’
‘Don’t you remember?’ she repeated.
‘Aileen,’ he sighed, ‘I love you and I wouldn’t let you do that, even if I was in the dock. Don’t even hint at it again, please.’
‘Bob, who would want to set you up?’
‘I can think of a few hundred people.’ He grimaced as the phone rang. He reached out and picked it up, answering by reciting his number.
‘Bob,’ a female voice said.
‘That’s me. Amanda, this is a surprise.’
‘You’re back in harness,’ she replied, ‘so you’re the man I speak to in your place.’
‘That’s not quite the case, but fire away.’
‘First, the markings on the bullet your people sent me. The gun that fired it has no criminal history. It’s not on IBIS and I’ve even had my people check with the American Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms. The most positive information I have for you is that it’s likely to be an expensive weapon. The bullet that killed your victim was relatively unmarked. The traces that we find are made by imperfections in the barrel, and there are fewer of these found in high-quality guns than in mass-produced.’
‘Sugar Dean won’t have cared how much the damn thing cost,’ Skinner muttered.
‘No, but it probably made a difference to her killer. This is someone who knows firearms, I’d say. It’s also unlikely that the weapon was the kind a criminal can buy, or even rent, in the back room of a pub. One other thing. I can’t tell you which gun fired your bullet, but I can tell you which ones didn’t. It wasn’t a firearm used or issued by any police force, by this department or by the protection squad. That, I am glad to say, takes the Shadow Defence Secretary out of the equation. That would have been nasty all round.’
‘Unlikely too,’ Skinner conceded. ‘I never really fancied him, but I did wonder if young Dave might have borrowed Daddy’s gun when he wasn’t looking.’
‘Evidently not.’
‘It was just a thought. Is that it?’
‘Not quite. My boy Adrian. . you met him, remember?. . was quite taken by Mrs Steele and her quest when he contacted her, so much so that he’s been doing a little digging, with the help of a friend in the FBI. He got him to run a passport check with hotels in the area of Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, last week. He discovered that among the guests last Tuesday night were Mr Ifan Richards, UK citizen, and Señor Ignacio Riesgo, a Panamanian national, according to his passport. Bob, to get a Panamanian passport, all you need to do is open a big enough bank account there, over a minimum five-year term. A hundred and twenty-five thousand US dollars will do it.’
‘The way things are going up here, I may bear that in mind.’
‘What?’
‘Nothing; only joking.’
‘Whatever. That wasn’t Adrian’s only success. He’s discovered that Davor Boras is on the move on Tuesday. He’s filed a flight plan for his aircraft.’
‘Where’s he going?’
‘Gatwick to Nice, returning Thursday.’
‘Two nights. Where’s he staying?’
‘Adrian’s looking into that.’
‘You’ll let me know, as soon as you get a hit?’
‘Of course.’
‘Not Maggie, you understand. She’s taken this as far as I’m going to let her.’
‘Understood. One way or another I’ll be in touch.’
As he hung up, he saw that Aileen was staring at him. ‘She’ll let you know?’ she exclaimed. ‘I thought you were hands-off for the next week.’
He chuckled. ‘I seem to remember you telling me over dinner, just a few nights ago, that it was okay to be hands-on.’
Seventy-one
Inspector John Varley had been plucked from his garden. He was wearing a check shirt with rolled-up sleeves, tan shorts and a pair of ancient trainers that might once have been white. His grey-streaked hair was ruffled and stubble showed on his chin, accentuating his dark moustache. He sat at a small table, his big fists clenched and tense. A dirty bandage was wound round his left hand, strapping the middle fingers together. He glared at McGuire and McIlhenney as they stepped into the interview room at the back of the force headquarters building, and as the uniformed officer who had been guarding him stepped out.
‘You two,’ he said, as McIlhenney switched on a twin-deck recorder and spoke into its microphone. ‘I might have known.’
‘You’re in a bad place, Jock,’ the head of CID told him. ‘You should be pleased that it’s us who’ve come to interview you and not some young DS, eager to make a name for himself. We’re deferring to your rank by taking this on ourselves.’
‘You’re deferring to my rank? This is a fucking insult, sir, if you don’t mind my saying so. You send a woman I’ve never met to my house, and a boy straight from the playground, and they tell me to get straight into their car, without a word to my wife or anybody else. She won’t be happy, I’ll tell you.’
‘Bluster won’t work, Inspector,’ said McIlhenney, evenly. ‘My wife isn’t happy either.’ He jerked a thumb in McGuire’s direction. ‘And as for his partner. . his tea will be in the dog when he gets home, I promise you. What happened to your hand?’ he asked.
Varley held up his left fist. ‘This? I broke my ring finger a couple of weeks ago. They splinted it to the one next to it.’
‘How did you do that?’
‘I slipped on wet tiles at home, and caught it on the edge of the kitchen table.’
‘That was a bit careless. Did you have something on your mind at the time?’
Varley stared at the superintendent. ‘No, why should I? It was a pure accident.’