‘Fine, Max.’ Proud sighed. ‘I don’t imagine they’ll spend too much time mourning, from what old Bert told me. How are Mr and Mrs Solomons handling it?’
A chuckle came from the speaker. ‘They’re loving the sudden fame. The old boy’s sold his story to the Record. They’re running it tomorrow. How about your end of the business, the Spanish wife and Miss Gentle, who thought she was his fiancée?’
‘That’s not easy: Adolf’s been pretty good at covering his tracks. The only address we have for him in this area was out of date by the time of his disappearance.’
‘Do you have any thoughts on how we should proceed?’
‘Actually,’ said McGuire, ‘Mr Solomons’ story might give us an opening. We’ve got photographs of Bothwell from old school year-books and the like. Let’s get a specialist to work out how he might look now, and give it, and the original, to the Record to run with their piece, and then to all the other media immediately afterwards.’
‘We’d need Crown Office permission,’ his chief constable pointed out.
‘No problem: they’ll give it without a second thought, but we should let the press have much more than that. So far they only know about the Primrose Jardine investigation. With respect, gentlemen, has the potential magnitude of this dawned on you? We’re dealing with a man who’d murdered two, probably three women. . possibly four, since Annabelle Gentle’s been missing for all that time as well. . by the time he reached his mid-thirties, and we’ve lost trace of him. We’re in pursuit of a serial killer here, and he’s had forty bloody years to add to his tally of victims. Don’t you think that it’s our duty to tell the media the whole story and to ask for their help in tracing him?’
Proud picked up his letter-opener and twirled it in his hand. ‘Mario,’ he declared, ‘I couldn’t agree more. Max?’
‘Absolutely.’
‘Who’s going to issue it?’
If it is possible to hear a smile, Mario McGuire swore later that he did at that moment. ‘Jimmy,’ said ACC Allan, ‘there is only one man qualified and entitled to do that, and that’s you. Modesty be damned, this is your finest hour as a detective. Get up there and take the credit. You’ll let me see a draft of the announcement, Mario?’
‘Will do, Max.’
‘Speak to you later, then.’
Proud switched off the conference telephone and swung his chair towards McGuire. ‘I really am most embarrassed by all this. When I got into this I’d no idea what would come to the surface. Mario, you brief the press; I’ll take a back seat.’
‘Are you asking me to refuse a direct order, sir? Don’t be shy about it. If I’d done what you’ve done I’d be up there basking in the fucking glory, but I didn’t so I won’t. Please, for us, and for our absent friend, you do it.’
The chief smiled and ran a hand across his brow. ‘Okay, if you insist. I’d better call him before this goes public, I suppose.’
‘That would be a good idea, sir,’ said the head of CID. ‘And someone else as well.’
‘Who’s that?’
‘The woman who started all this: Annabelle Gentle’s daughter.’
Seventy-five
For several reasons, Alex was glad she had gone to Gullane for the night. It had given Sarah the opportunity to tell her, face to face, why, from her side of the situation, her marriage to Bob had failed. She had been able to have breakfast with her brothers and sister. But most of all, it had got her away from the flat, and from that damn phone. She had to admit to herself, if to nobody else, that the calls had been getting to her. The sense of being hunted was one she had never experienced before, and she did not like it. As she thought about it, sitting in the lunch-time restaurant, waiting for Gina, she felt cold, dispassionate anger welling up inside her: if she was someone’s prey, then he was in for a hell of a shock when he caught up with her.
As she looked back over her week, she realised yet again how much she loved her job. It was the central pillar of her life, and she had chosen it as such, for a few more years, at least. She had been given the ‘wife and mother’ ultimatum when she had been engaged to Andy, and had rejected it, and him. In doing so, she had set herself a single objective: to be a partner in Curle Anthony and Jarvis by the time she was thirty. Already she was the firm’s youngest associate, so she was on track: the better you were, the more you were in demand. That overriding purpose allowed her to laugh off all the blips in her social life, even Guy Luscomb, that conceited, self-satisfied, useless prick. The dual connotation of that thought made her laugh to herself.
Or so she thought. ‘Hey,’ said Gina Reed. ‘What’s lit up your day?’
‘Oh, nothing.’ She laughed again. ‘At least not very much. I was thinking of my flexible friend from London, that was all. How’s yours been so far?’
Her friend laid a series of bags against the wall next to their table. ‘Hell on earth, darling. The shops at this time of year are just unbearable, even during the week.’
Alex pointed to her haul. ‘You seem to have battled through, though. I have to confess that this year I’m doing most of my Christmas shopping on the Internet.’
‘Who’s the big present for this year? Guy?’
‘Piss off. He’ll get a card if he’s lucky. It’ll be for my dad, I suppose, but what do you give a man who has everything?’
‘A repair kit.’
‘They don’t make them for what’s broke in his life. I had a heart-to-heart with my soon-to-be-ex-stepmother last night. She’s making preparations to go back to America and concentrate on doctoring.’
Gina frowned. ‘You never told me that was on the cards.’
‘Sorry, but it’s been a deep, dark family secret. They’re still not putting it too widely about, so keep it to yourself till you hear it from someone else. There will be talk, no doubt about it: all sorts of suggestions will be made, and if any of them are made to you I’d be grateful if you’d say they’re splitting up by mutual consent, no third parties involved.’
‘And is that true?’
‘In time it may not appear so, but it is.’
Gina rubbed her hands together. ‘Ooow,’ she squeaked, ‘that means your dad’s back in the market-place. Talk about interesting older men!’
‘My dad is off limits, girlfriend, so no trying to pull him at my housewarming.’
‘Bitch. In that case I’ll have to make do with that new neighbour of yours. What’s his name again?’
‘Griff, you mean?’
‘That’s the man: very tasty.’
‘I think Spring might have something to say about that.’
‘I sincerely hope not: she’s his sister.’
Alex gasped. ‘His. . How do you know that?’
‘My firm did the conveyancing on his flat. I only found out about it yesterday when I mentioned to the partner involved that you had a new place. He spilled the whole tin of beans. Trust me, they’re bro’ and sis’, house-sharing.’
‘Mmm. He borrowed my corkscrew last night.’
‘Hey! How phallic can you get? Was it the first move, do you think?’
‘Highly unlikely, after he saw me saying goodbye to my unshaven one-night stand.’
‘Yes, slut,’ said Gina, cheerfully. She turned in her chair and called to a waiter: ‘Any chance of a couple of menus over here? We’ve come for lunch, not dinner.’ He scowled at her, but handed her two large plastic cards.
‘You know what I like about you, pal?’ Alex laughed. ‘It’s your subtlety.’
‘Speaking of which, I had to be subtle in tracking down my wayward cousin. I called Nolan and asked him where Raymond was. I’ve never known my favourite uncle be short with me before but he was. All he said was “I’ve no idea,” then hung up on me. I wound up having to phone round all the cousins. Eventually, one of them, Sugar. . and before you ask, yes, that is her real name. . came up with a mobile number for him.’