‘They’ve got him dead as a suicide, killing Stevie Steele in a last, bitter, random act of violence, and they haven’t looked beyond that. They’ll have read Arthur’s report, and they’ve either missed or ignored the significance of the eyelets.
‘I’m not bloody prepared to trust this investigation to them. Now I’ll admit, privately, that Arthur was a wee bit naughty bringing those skin fragments back to Scotland and leaving that out of his findings, but what the hell? One of them was his own!’
He looked at his colleague. ‘Are you nervous about this? Because if you are, we’ll collect DI Stallings and take the first plane back home.’
McGuire snorted. ‘Did I say I was nervous? I’m sure Les Cairns will welcome our assistance at the end of the day.’
‘That’s the spirit. But if you want justification, what are we doing? Officially, we’re going to see a bereaved father, a man who has just announced the donation of a million sterling to the Police Dependants’ Trust, to advise him that the man who killed his daughter is dead himself. That’s common courtesy, man, and to prove it, when we get back to Scotland, we’ll pay similar visits to the parents of Stacey Gavin, Amy Noone and Harry Paul.’
‘You really do think that Boras killed Stevie, don’t you?’
‘Or had him killed. I’m absolutely certain of it, not that I believe he was trying to. The trap was set for someone else, but I’m a way off knowing why.’ As he finished, they reached the end of the arrivals corridor, to see a tall, attractive, dark-haired woman, walking purposefully towards them, against the flow of disembarked passengers.
‘Now I know why Ray stayed over,’ McGuire murmured. ‘But I’m wondering what the hell she saw in him.’
‘When you can answer that,’ said Skinner, ‘you can chuck the police and start the dating website to end them all. DI Stallings?’ he asked, as she came within hailing distance.
‘Yes, sir. Deputy Chief Constable Skinner?’
‘That’s right, and this is DCS McGuire, my head of CID. You’ll be reporting to him during your brief secondment to us. Do we have transport?’
‘Nearby: I’m in the short stay.’
Stallings led the way out of Terminal One and into the car park. She showed her warrant card at the exit booth and the barrier was raised.
‘Where are we headed?’ said Skinner, in the front passenger seat.
‘We’re going to the Continental IT office, in central London. I checked with them to confirm that Mr Boras would be there all afternoon, and made an appointment for both of you to visit him.’
‘All three of us: you’re coming too. You’re playing on my team for the present.’
‘When are we going back north?’ she asked. ‘If it’s today, I’ll need to make time to go home and pack.’
‘That’ll be okay. If we go back tonight, you can fly north tomorrow morning. But we’re flexible; it depends on how we get on with Boras. As you saw when we met, we’ve both brought overnight bags, just in case.’
‘Ahh.’ Stallings fell silent as she drove out of the airport and picked up the M4.
The DCC glanced at her. ‘Something on your mind, Inspector?’ he said quietly.
‘No, sir.’
Skinner grinned. ‘Did nobody tell you I’m a mind-reader? Out with it.’
Hesitantly, she risked a quick look at him. ‘Well, sir, it’s what you said about Mr Boras, that the length of your stay depends on how you get on with him. I thought that this was a courtesy call, to advise him of the conclusion of your investigation into his daughter’s murder.’
‘You forgot about us thanking him for giving a million to the PDT.’
‘Yes, and that.’
‘It’s all true, all of it. However, my big friend here and I have a couple of questions to ask him. The way that he answers them may determine how courteous we are.’
‘I see.’ Nervousness replaced hesitancy in Becky Stallings’s voice.
‘What did you think of our boy Stevie?’ the DCC asked her suddenly.
‘In our very brief acquaintance,’ she replied, ‘I thought he was a very nice guy. I also saw that he was a brilliant police officer. The way he handled Keith Barker was as good as anything I’ve ever seen.’
‘Yeah. Stevie was all that. He’d have gone all the way in the force; I’m in no doubt about that.’
‘How’s his wife bearing up?’
‘She’s also an exceptional police officer, and an exceptional person. She’s dealing with it.’
‘Would she mind me going to the funeral?’
‘Becky, I think she’ll insist on it. In fact, while you’re with us, I imagine she’d like to meet you.’
‘I’d be. .’ She paused.
‘I know, it’ll be awkward, but it’ll be good for both of you.’
‘In that case, I’d be happy to visit her; maybe with Ray.’
‘Of course.’
‘How is he?’
‘DS Wilding is like the rest of us, bereaved but continuing to function professionally. Don’t worry about him. He’s a good lad; he’s one of mine, but don’t ever tell him I said that. It would go to his head.’
‘One of yours?’
‘Mario knows what I mean. Don’t you, mate?’ He glanced over his shoulder, then back at Stallings. ‘I cherish every police officer, every man and woman who carries a warrant card, plain-clothes or uniform. But some I cherish even more than others, because I see a bit of me in them.’
He smiled grimly. ‘Be in no doubt, Becky, I wasn’t out of the room when they were handing out egos. I was at the front of the queue and I got first pick.’
He paused. ‘Every so often, though, something happens that reminds me that I’m not infallible. A few years back, one of mine went very bad. More recently, I put another in a situation that I thought he could handle. He couldn’t, and maybe he’ll never be the same again. I’m going to look after him, mind you. I’m going to keep him on the force and I’m going to help him get back his self-esteem.’ He glanced backwards again. ‘That’s a decision I’ve made since Saturday night, Mario.’
‘Bandit?’
‘Yes.’
‘How are you going to do it? That report didn’t make good reading.’
‘I’m going to keep him close. He’ll replace McGurk, but with a bigger job, as executive officer not just to me but to everybody in the Command Corridor. Sorry, Becky,’ he exclaimed. ‘Digression.’
‘And Stevie was one of yours as well?’ she asked.
‘Oh, yes. Top of the class.’ Skinner sat in silence for a while, staring ahead through the windscreen as the motorway bore into the city, and as world-famous landmarks came into view. They were heading through Holborn before he spoke again.
‘We think Boras killed Stevie, Becky.’
‘What?’ The shout escaped before she had a chance to choke it off, but she managed to keep the car under control.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘Sorry to startle you. I said that we believe that Boras may have been responsible for Stevie’s murder. We do not buy Ballester as a suicide. All the evidence points to him having shot Zrinka and the others, but we reckon that when Boras learned this, and discovered where he was hiding out, he either went up there and killed him or, more likely, he ordered it done.’
‘You mean that you’re going to interrogate him as a murder suspect?’
‘No. I’m telling you that we’re going to play it by ear, but advising you that the conversation might take an interesting turn.’
Keeping her eyes on the road, she smiled. ‘That sounds like fun. Mind you, sir, the Home Office will not like it when they find out.’
‘Does that bother you?’
‘Not one small piece.’
‘That’s the lady.’
The office of Continental IT was in a green square, near the junction of London Wall and Aldersgate Street. As she had been directed, Stallings drove into a basement car park, where she chose a vacant ‘visitor’ space.
‘Sir,’ she said, as they stepped out of the vehicle, ‘you should be aware that Boras is very security-conscious. Barker said that he has his office checked for bugs every day, and that he does all his important business in there.’