‘And what about his first? His political career? How did he feel about that?’
The journalist laughed softly. ‘Bewildered. When he stood for Holyrood, he never expected to get elected. He did it because he wanted to be a focal point for Scottish opposition to the nuclear deterrent, but that was all. He didn’t anticipate that the Labour vote would collapse and swing behind him in the way it did.’
‘I’m told that Dr Anderson accused him of doing it to sell books.’
For a moment, Pye thought the woman would spit on the floor. ‘He’s a fine one. He turned on his own party to sell his pathetic book, bastard that he is. Look at him now, trying to be the mouthpiece of the old socialist conscience and shagging a Tory duke’s daughter at the same time.’
‘Did you hear the exchange last night?’
‘Only the end of it, when Anderson started shouting his mouth off.’
‘And did you see Dr Anderson after that?’
‘Yes. When Ryan McCool and Jock Fisher and I were turning into Young Street, I saw him.’
A frisson of excitement flickered in Pye’s stomach, but he kept his tone casual. ‘Heading home to Darnaway Street, I take it?’ he asked.
Sandy Rankin shook her head. ‘No,’ she said, ‘he was heading in the other direction, just before midnight. For an awful moment I thought he was going to the Oxford Bar as well, but when I took a look back over my shoulder, I saw him going past the entrance, carrying on up North Charlotte Street.’
Twenty-seven
The two fathers were stepping out of the lane that led from the bents on to Hill Road when Neil McIlhenney’s mobile sounded.
‘Probably Lou, wondering where you are,’ said Bob. He was carrying the sleeping Seonaid, her fair curly locks resting against his chest, as his sons walked ahead of them. They had allowed the children to play until the first signs of tiredness from their transatlantic flight had appeared in the three Skinner youngsters, then headed for home.
‘She’ll have seen us by now,’ his friend replied. ‘Hello.’
‘Boss,’ Sammy Pye’s voice sounded in his ear. ‘Can you speak?’
‘I can listen; let’s try that first.’ He stopped. Skinner watched him curiously as his expression changed. ‘Mmm,’ he muttered eventually. ‘That might change things a little. My instinct is to pull him in but I wouldn’t do anything yet if I were you. I’ll consult with a higher power. . yes, him, I’m with him just now. . and get back to you.’ McIlhenney pocketed the phone, swept the flagging James Andrew off his feet and lifted him up on to his shoulder, then began the short walk downhill to Skinner’s home, steering Louis’ pushchair with one hand. ‘Pye,’ he said. ‘News from the battleground; a witness who saw Bruce Anderson heading in the wrong direction at the wrong time.’
‘So your instinct was right.’ They reached their destination and Bob unlocked the gate with a key. ‘He did go out again. His so-called alibi is useless.’
‘How do we play it?’ Neil asked, as Spencer and Mark ran ahead, their feet crunching on the gravel path.
‘You play it, mate, you and Sammy. I’m keeping well away from this one, for all sorts of reasons.’
As they approached the house, the front door opened and Trish, the Barbadian nanny, emerged. As she took Seonaid from her father’s arms, Neil set James Andrew back on his feet, to follow her indoors. Leaving Spencer in charge of the pushchair, the two men walked into the kitchen, where Bob took a beer from the fridge and handed his friend a can of Sprite.
‘As I said to Sammy,’ the superintendent continued, ‘my gut says to lift him, but can we do it unobtrusively?’
‘Why should you? Given all the circumstances, if this was Johnny-on-the-street-corner, he’d be in the cells by now.’
‘Fine, but by now the word about his dust-up with the dead guy will have spread right through the media. They wouldn’t be watching your man Johnny, but they’ll be keeping an eye on Anderson, that’s for sure.’
‘Not right now, they aren’t; he’s at his girlfriend’s father’s place, or so you told me. Nobody will be camped there, not yet, at any rate.’
‘Are you saying we should drive right into the Duke of Lanark’s estate and arrest him?’
Skinner’s grin was huge and wicked. ‘I’m just helping your thought process, mate, that’s all. Why should you hesitate to do that? This is a murder investigation, the man displayed hostility to the victim and he appears to have lied to you about his whereabouts at the time of the killing.’
‘He appears to have, but he wasn’t under caution.’
‘So?’›
McIlhenney nodded. ‘So we visit him again and we take a formal signed statement. But we don’t tell him about the Rankin woman seeing him in North Charlotte Street. If he tells us the same story and signs it. .’ He paused. ‘But would we get away with that? Would we need to disclose?’
‘He hasn’t been charged with anything; he doesn’t have the rights of an accused person. So why should you?’
‘True. But if we went charging up to the duke’s baronial hall, he’d twig something was up, wouldn’t he?’
‘Unless he’s a lot dumber than we think, he probably would.’
‘In which case we play it quietly. We visit him again as soon as he gets back to Edinburgh. . no, that might be late; we do it tomorrow morning.’›
‘This time you probably don’t, not you personally; Sammy can see him, or even Wilding and Cowan, so it appears routine. But as soon as you have that signed statement. . then he really is Johnny-on-the-street-corner. ’
McIlhenney nodded. ‘He gets lifted and we go in with a warrant to search the place. The search of the Festival rubbish turned up nothing. You never know, he might have taken the ampoule home, and the big syringe with the glucose in it.’
‘That’s if he did it.’
‘You can’t see him as a murderer?’
Skinner shook his head. ‘I’m not going to say anything to influence you, or prejudice your investigation.’
‘No, if you’ve got a view, I need to hear it. You know the man a lot better than I do.’
‘OK, but bear in mind that this is just my impression of him. This killing was well thought out, well-planned, and the moment was well-chosen; it’s one of the boldest crimes I’ve ever known. There’s no doubt that Anderson is smart enough to have planned it, or that he has the medical knowledge to have carried it out. My doubt is whether he has the balls to have done it. My experience of the man, Neil, is that he’s a coward.’
McIlhenney smiled. ‘Backing off from you, Bob, doesn’t necessarily make a man a coward. But. .’ he took a breath, ‘what you say might square with something else that Sammy told me. I believe you know an author called Henry Mount?’
‘Sure, he’s one of our Friday crowd; known him for years.’ He nodded. ‘That’s right, he told me he had a run-in with Anderson a while back. Bruce threatened to thump him, didn’t he?’
‘And Mount invited him to try it, only the offer was never taken up. The guy went all quiet. At the very least that marks him out as a blusterer.’ McIlhenney looked at the unopened can in his hand, popped the ring pull, and took a long drink. ‘But that doesn’t change what we know about last night, and about his deception. We see him tomorrow, take his statement and if he’s still saying that he didn’t go out again, we knock on his door with a search team, and if the media spot us, then that’ll be too bad.’
‘Fine.’
‘I’ll let you know how it goes.’
‘Don’t be in any rush. Anyway, I might be out of town tomorrow morning. I might just take a run up to Tayside. You’re busy, and we need that list from Andy’s safe.’