‘Was that the end of it?’
‘Not quite. He phoned me, at home.’
‘How did he get your number?’
Mount looked at the DC patiently. ‘Research Document Number One, hen: the phone book. Everybody assumes I’m ex-directory, but I’m not, never have been. My wife took the call. She always picks up after the fourth ring; if I’m busy I let it get that far. She came through to my study and said that an extremely rude man wanted to speak to me. It was Anderson, of course. He said that he’d half a mind to come out to Gullane and thump me. I told him that I knew he’d only half a mind, and that if he ever put down the lavatory brush and plucked up the courage, he could find me in the local gym most lunchtimes. I’m still waiting, but it’s been a while. I don’t think he’ll turn up now. He certainly didn’t want to know me last night.’
‘You live in Gullane?’ said Wilding. ‘So does our gaffer, DCC Skinner.’
‘Yes, I know Bob. We frequent the same local.’
‘Did you tell him about your run-in with Anderson?’
‘I mentioned it, one Friday night. He said that if I wanted to make a formal complaint about his threat of violence, he’d have someone visit him and give him a warning. I told him I wasn’t taking it that seriously.’
‘Did you ever find out why the guy got so worked up about this Lady Anthea?’
‘She’s his girlfriend, Ray,’ The quartet looked up as the newcomer spoke; they had no idea how long he had been standing there, in the entrance area. ‘Mr McIlhenney and I have just left the two of them,’ he added. ‘But don’t let me interrupt your interview.’
‘We’re almost finished, Sammy.’ Wilding turned back to the two authors. ‘Did Mr Glover say anything to you last night that struck you as odd? Did he give any hint that he felt threatened in any way?’
‘No,’ Mount replied, ‘he was fine. A bit pissed towards the end, but that happened with him sometimes. He was looking forward to today, in fact. June, his other half, was coming up from London.’
‘June Connelly?’ Cowan asked. ‘His agent?’
‘She was a bit more than that. Didn’t you know that?’
‘His daughter thought that might be the case but she couldn’t say for certain.’
Noble frowned; the expression seemed to add to the overall sense of blackness that emanated from him. ‘Poor June,’ he sighed. ‘This’ll be a bigger shock for her than for any of us. Henry,’ he asked, ‘can you remember when Ally said her train was due?’
Wilding replied for him. ‘Two thirty. But it’s running half an hour late. DC Cowan’s going along to meet it.’
‘Hell no!’ Noble exclaimed. ‘With respect, that won’t do. She doesn’t know you, Constable. If she’s heard on the radio on the way up, she’ll be in a hell of a state, and if she hasn’t. . it’s better if that sort of news is broken by friends. Henry and I will go along there,’ he glanced at his watch, ‘straight away.’
Mount grimaced. ‘Wish I could, chum,’ he sighed, ‘but I’m off to Melbourne this evening, remember.’
‘Of course, I’d forgotten that. I’ll do it myself, then.’ He looked at the detectives. ‘I imagine you’ll want to interview her.’
The sergeant nodded. ‘As soon as she’s up to it.’
‘Give me your number and I’ll phone you. I’ll take her up to my place; she can hardly go to Ally’s now.’
‘That’s fine.’ Wilding rose, and Cowan followed his lead. ‘We won’t detain you further, gents,’ he said, handing Noble a card bearing his office and mobile numbers. They waited as the odd couple left the yurt. As soon as the door had closed, Pye came across to join them.
‘Where’s the super?’ Wilding asked him.
‘He’s gone home, to try and rescue some of his Sunday and keep a rash promise he made to his kids. The older two are back at school in a few days, so he’s under pressure.’
‘Lucky him. Still, I suppose he didn’t have to come in at all. You could have handled Anderson.’
‘Maybe, but I was glad he was there in the end. Big Neil’s a calm guy, mostly, but when somebody winds him up, he doesn’t take any prisoners.’ He described the interview of Anderson, and McIlhenney’s exchange with the former Secretary of State.
‘Ouch!’ Alice Cowan grinned. ‘What’s she like, this aristocratic junkie girlfriend?’
‘Pale and not very interesting, I’d have said. She doesn’t like us, that’s for sure; she looked at me like I was one of her dad’s pheasants.’
‘You mean peasants?’
‘No, I mean what I said; she looked as if she’d like to shoot me.’
‘Where did you leave it with them?’
‘Unresolved. Anderson says he was home when Glover was killed.’
‘Do you believe him?’ Wilding asked pointedly.
‘That doesn’t matter; with nobody to say different, a jury would believe him when Lady Anthea confirmed that he was.’ He paused, then went on briskly, deflecting attention from his own persistent vision of Dr Anderson creeping silently out of the Darnaway Street flat, retracing his steps back up the hill to Charlotte Square, and ambushing the unsuspecting Glover. ‘How did you two get on with the daughter?’
‘And the son,’ the sergeant volunteered. ‘He was there too; and the boyfriend, Ed Collins.’
‘What do you know about him?’
‘Nothing, other than the fact that he was in the pub with the Glover kids when the father was killed. We interviewed Carol and Wilkie — that’s the lad — but Collins nipped off without telling us, before we could talk to him.’
‘Did he know you’d want to see him?’
‘To be fair, he probably didn’t; we didn’t ask him to wait. Carol said he had to get to Tynecastle for the game.’
Pye gasped. ‘His fiancée’s dad’s just been bumped off and he goes to see the Jambos?’
‘That’s football for you,’ said Cowan cheerfully. ‘One of my aunts died a couple of years ago; the funeral was on a Monday morning, and in the evening my uncle flew out to the Ukraine for a Celtic Champions’ League game.’
‘Ah well, I don’t suppose it matters. If you’re happy he’s not in the frame, we can catch up with him later. Did you learn anything worth knowing about Glover?’
Wilding shook his head. ‘Not really. You picked up on the close relationship with his agent. Also he seems to have been pally with a lady journalist, Sandy Rankin, although there’s no suggestion they were any more than friends. That’s about it.’
‘Apart from him using his daughter’s place as a postal address,’ Cowan pointed out. ‘And setting up a guest screen name on her email, to keep potential stalkers at bay.’
The inspector stared at her. ‘Run that past me again,’ he said.
The detective constable repeated Carol Glover’s story. ‘It makes sense when you think about it,’ she said. ‘If I was in the public eye like that, I wouldn’t want people to get too close to me.’
‘I’m sure you wouldn’t, Alice. But maybe this bloke was more worried about. .’ Pye stopped in mid-gaffe, but it was beyond retrieval. They were both ex-Special Branch and she picked up his meaning at once.
‘Are you saying he thought he was under surveillance?’ she exclaimed. ‘Come on, sir. If he’d thought that, he’d have told his daughter surely.’
‘I’m not saying anything,’ Pye snapped. Cowan responded with an intake of breath, and a look that might have frozen the mercury in the thermometer mounted on a pillar behind her head. ‘What did he do with this correspondence?’
‘I can’t say for sure. I assume he took the letters away with him, and I suppose the emails will be in Carol’s computer, unless he deleted them.’
‘Then find out, and retrieve what you can. How do you know there’s nothing in that material that’s relevant to our investigation? Answer: you don’t till you’ve seen it. I know it’s Sunday, Alice, but try to pretend it’s just another working day and stay on the ball.’
‘Yes, sir!’ She strode out of the yurt, making no attempt to hide her anger.
‘Hey,’ Wilding murmured when she had gone. ‘I thought that kicking the DCs was my job.’