‘I’m going to leave that for the procurator fiscal to decide,’ Pye told him. He crouched, took out a handkerchief, and very carefully picked up a Luger pistol, which lay on the floor. ‘Have you touched this since the intruder dropped it?’
‘No, I left it for you people.’ The bookie’s ebullience seemed to be fading away.
‘Come on, Mr Starr, did you really think this was a firearm?’
‘How can you say it’s not?’
‘By the weight, for a start: this is plastic. And by the size: a real Luger would be bigger than this.’ He glanced at it. ‘Finally by the fact that it’s got “Made in China” stamped on the butt.’
‘How was I to know that?’ Starr protested.
‘I’m not sure you cared.’
‘The bastard was trying to rob me. Why should Ah care?’
‘Like I said, that’s not a question I’m going to deal with at the moment. The man you mentioned, Big Ming? Where is he?’
‘He’s in the back shop.’
‘Is that Ming as in Menzies?’ asked Shannon.
‘Nah, his name’s Jim Smith. We call him that because he smells a bit.’
‘Did he see any of this?’
‘The boy bumped into him when he ran for it, but that was all.’ Starr scowled. ‘Knocked the coffees and the bacon rolls all over the fuckin’ place.’
‘Had you ever seen the thief before?’
‘Not that I remember; he’s not one of my regulars, that’s for sure.’
‘Description?’
‘Maybe six feet, skinny, needed a shave. He wore a green jacket and a grey woolly hat: at least I think it was grey. The thing was filthy.’
Pye turned to Shannon. ‘We’d better find this bloke quick, Dottie. Could you arrange for uniformed officers to check with the Western General and the Royal for anyone who’s wandered in minus a right index finger?’ He took an evidence bag from his pocket, picked up the detached digit and, very carefully, placed it inside. ‘I’ll take care of the forensic side. At least we won’t have any trouble getting a print. Mr Starr, I want you to come with me: we’ll need a formal statement from you. Meantime, you’d better hope that this man hasn’t bled to death. In fact, I’ll let you call your lawyer right now. You might want him to meet you at my office.’
The bookmaker’s smiles were long gone as he walked over to a phone in the far corner of the betting office. Shannon felt a glow of satisfaction as she reached for her radio, but before she could hit the transmit switch, her mobile sounded.
She fished it from the right-hand pocket of her uniform trousers and hit the OK button. ‘Shannon,’ she replied, tersely.
‘Dottie.’ She knew the voice, but at that moment was unable to put a face or a name to it. ‘Neil McIlhenney.’ Mentally, she kicked herself: she had been with the Special Branch head only a few days before. ‘Are you able to talk to me?’ he asked.
She glanced around: Starr was dialling a number and Pye was bagging the toy Luger. ‘Yes.’
‘I’ll be brief. You’re wanted up at headquarters this afternoon: DCC Skinner’s office, three thirty.’
‘What’s it about?’
‘I don’t know for sure.’
‘Am I on the carpet?’
‘No, because you don’t need to wear uniform. Anyway, if you were, he’d be phoning you himself. Don’t be anxious, just be on time.’
Four
‘Will it always be like this?’ Aileen de Marco asked the question without looking directly at him.
He waited until he had caught her gaze. ‘A few hours together here and there, do you mean? Quick lunches like this one, in quiet restaurants where we can trust their discretion?’
She laughed lightly. ‘Make that rhyme and you’ve got a big country-and-western hit on your hands.’
‘That’s the west of Scotland gene pooclass="underline" deep down we’ve all got a touch of the maudlin in us.’ He grinned back at her. ‘You’ll never get me to sing it, though.’
‘I’ll bet you’ve got a great singing voice.’
‘You’ll never know. I don’t plan ever to get that drunk again.’ He took her hand in his. ‘To answer you, no, Aileen, it won’t always be like this: that’s a promise. Why do you ask, though? Are you having second thoughts about the two of us? Do you want to stop this thing before it goes any further?’
‘No, I don’t. Forget I said that, Bob; it was stupid. I know it’s got to be this way for a while, given your position, and mine. “Deputy Chief Constable and Justice Minister in Glasgow Love Tryst”: God, the headlines were swimming before my eyes last night, in the dark.’
‘You’re selling yourself short.’ He chuckled. ‘When I saw them, they read, “First Minister de Marco and Top Cop Skinner: the secret uncovered”. . or words to that effect.’
‘There’s no certainty I’ll be First Minister.’
‘Are you going to run for the leadership of your party?’
‘Yes,’ she conceded.
‘Is there any sign of anyone running against you?’
‘No.’
‘In that case it’s an absolute certainty.’
‘I wish I had your confidence. The electoral process can drag on a bit: there’s always the chance of someone else throwing their hat in the ring.’
‘The voters will chuck it back out again. But until that happens, and until Sarah and I have ironed out all the details of our split, you and I should avoid being seen together, other than in professional circumstances. Agreed?’
‘Agreed. I’m sorry I had my wee wobble there. It’s just that being with you makes me feel. .’
‘Yes?’
‘It makes me feel content: I don’t know how else to put it. Somehow, I just feel like I’m at home, in a way I haven’t since I was a kid. Does that make sense?’
‘It does to me,’ Bob replied.
‘How does it make you feel, then?’ she teased.
‘I have trouble describing that too,’ he admitted. ‘The best I can say is that I don’t feel alone any more.’
‘Alone? You’ve got four kids: how can you feel alone?’
‘See? I told you I have trouble describing it.’ He looked down at the table for a moment, at the remains of their meal, then back at Aileen. ‘It’s this way, love. Ever since Myra, my first wife, died, there’s been a part of me that’s never healed up. I’ll tell you a truth: in the years I was on my own, bringing up Alex, I dreamed of Myra all the time; in those dreams she wasn’t dead, only away visiting her mother, or a friend, and then she’d come back, and it would be all right. But every morning after, I’d wake up and she was still dead, and inside I was as lost and alone as I felt on the day of her funeral. When Sarah came along, and we got together, I hoped that I could put all the hurt, all the loneliness behind me, but I never did, not quite. I still dreamed of Myra, never Sarah, always her, and she still wasn’t dead, only gone for a while. The dreams grew more frequent, until I’d see her almost every night, full of life, but every morning my mind’s eye would see her dead once more.’
‘Did you ever tell Sarah this?’
‘How could I?’
‘Didn’t you tell anyone, not even your friend Kevin, the psychiatrist you saw?’
‘I only tell Kevin what he needs to know; some stuff I can’t share with him.’
‘You carried all that inside you, for all those years?’
‘Yup.’
‘So what’s happened?’
‘You have. They’ve stopped. I don’t dream of Myra any more. When I do, it’s you I see.’
Her eyebrows came together, slightly. ‘Are you telling me that I’m a substitute for your dead wife?’
He squeezed her hand, firmly, but not hard enough to hurt. ‘Not for a moment. You’re nothing like her, nothing at all. She and I had little in common, other than the fact that we were crazy about each other. You and I, we’ve been drawn together by qualities we share. No, Aileen, what I’m telling you is that I believe, I honestly do, that Myra’s finally satisfied that I’ve found the person I should be with.’
Her eyes glistened. ‘Won’t you miss her, if she never comes back at night?’
‘No, for all I have to do to see her is look at my older daughter. She’s as like her mother as two people can be,’ he smiled again, ‘although she’s a little less wild, I’m glad to say.’ He drank the last of his bottled water. ‘So here I am, saved at last. Yes, my marriage is over, and that pains me, because however well Sarah and I manage it, the kids will not have the upbringing that we had planned. Despite that, when I look into the future, although I don’t have a clue what it holds, I see you in it, and that makes me. . I’ll use your word. It makes me content. No, I’ll go further: it makes me feel happy in a way I haven’t for the last twenty years.’