‘I promised you that I’d apply, didn’t I?’ She nodded. ‘Well, I’ve also promised my daughter, Archbishop Gainer, and the chief himself. So even if you’d changed your mind about your end of our bargain, I’d have some job backing out now. My form has gone in, all duly signed, it’s been acknowledged and I’ll take my chances with the interview board.’
‘Which is absolutely apolitical, and will judge you on your record. So you’re a certainty.’
‘I wouldn’t go that far. I’ve no idea who the other candidates will be; all I know is who won’t be contenders, and they include Andy Martin, Willie Haggerty, Brian Mackie and most other chief officers in Scotland. I’m the bookies’ favourite, I concede that much, but the job should be open to applicants from England, so I’m taking nothing for granted. But going back to your original question, I’ve got two things on my mind. One is the immediacy of Jimmy’s departure. In two days’ time he goes off on pre-retirement leave; that means that when I go into the office on Wednesday, it’ll be as acting chief constable. You’ll concede that’s worth thinking about.’
‘Granted,’ she said. ‘Now what’s the other thing?’
‘You.’
‘Me? Why me?’
He put the soap back on the dish, and picked up a tube of shampoo. ‘I’m worried about you,’ he told her, as he began to massage it into his hair.
‘Why, in God’s name?’
‘I’m concerned about the effect your job’s having on you.’
‘I’m fine, Bob. Do you think I can’t handle it?’
‘Far from it. In the circumstances, I can’t think of anyone else who could handle it half as well as you do, not even our worthy Prime Minister, or his sainted predecessor. But it’s those very circumstances I’m talking about. Your crowd squeezed back into office by the skin of its teeth; in truth, every political journalist I know tells me it was you that won the election, in spite of your party rather than because of it. As a result you’re spending the bulk of your working day watching your back; much of what you do is a compromise. It’s not, “What do I believe we should do?” It’s got to be, “What do I believe my coalition partners will go along with?” You’re not that sort of operator, Aileen. Although you never use the phrase, you’re a conviction politician, with a clear moral compass, far more so than those people who proclaim out loud that’s what they are. It’s getting to you; I can see that.’
She watched him as he rinsed foam from his scalp. ‘We all have to live in the real world, love.’ If he had been defensive earlier, now it was her turn. ‘I have to do what I can with the mandate the people gave me. The coalition has a majority of one, and we as a party have one seat more than the Nationalists. My convictions, or most of them, were expressed in our manifesto, but the voters didn’t exactly endorse them. Yes, I’ll grant you, I find the present circumstances difficult, but there’s nothing I can do about them. The Scottish Parliament is elected for a fixed four-year term, other than in exceptional circumstances. Even if I wanted to I can’t go bleating to the electorate and ask it to take my handcuffs off.’
Bob stepped from the shower, leaving her under the spray, and picked up a big white towel. ‘No,’ he agreed, ‘but you do have another option.’
She stared at him. ‘What? Are you saying that I should resign as First Minister?’
‘If that’s what you wanted to do, I would support you. Hell, whatever you want to do, I’ll support you. But that’s not what I’m saying. I’m suggesting that you could wash your hands of those vacillating wankers you’re in coalition with. The way the numbers lie, they’ve only got a few seats in the Parliament, yet they’re puffed up with their own importance, and they’re treating you like. . They’re treating you in a way I don’t like. So maybe you should tell them that their services are no longer required.’
‘Bob, that’s the only possible coalition out there.’ She turned off the shower and he tossed her the second towel from the rail.
‘I know that.’
‘Are you saying we should go it alone?’ she asked. ‘Form a minority executive?’
‘I’m saying you could. But please, call it a government, love. That’s one thing the Nats have got right. You could boot out all the coalition ministers, appoint your own people, then put your manifesto before the Parliament and say you’re going to look to implement it, point by point. You’ll lose on some issues, but you’ll win some too. What do you have at the moment? The policy equivalent of orange squash. . diluted to taste by the ball and fucking chain you’ve got fastened around your ankle.’
She looked up at him as she began to dry herself. ‘I couldn’t do that off my own bat, even if I wanted to. I’d have to get party approval before I did it.’
‘Your parliamentary party will back you, and you know it. The anti-Aileen movement, the old Tommy Murtagh sympathisers, they were pretty much wiped out at the election.’
A slow smile spread across her face. ‘Maybe you should keep on with your running after all,’ she chuckled. ‘You’ve given me something to think about this morning, and that’s for sure.’
‘So you will think about it?’
‘Oh yes, you can be sure of that. I’ll think about it, and I’ll even talk to a couple of close colleagues. For example, Gavin Johnson, the Lord Advocate: I’ll need his opinion on the constitutional position, whether I have a right to form a government. . as you’ll have me call it. . as the head of the largest single party. I’d look pretty daft if I sacked all the hangers-on and they trotted off and formed a coalition with the Nats.’
‘That’s not going to happen. The Nationalists will only get into bed with people who’re as committed to independence as they are.’
‘Don’t be so sure. There are opportunists in every political party.’
‘Not their leader, though, and he’s as much in control of his lot as you are of yours. As you said, your coalition is the only possible one out there. But that doesn’t mean it’s desirable. Our country’s had enough of coalitions, Aileen, for a while at least. That’s what I’m trying to say to you; that’s my gut feeling.’
‘Point made and taken.’ She wrapped the towel around herself. ‘Now, since we’re up, will we get back to Gullane? Or, since Trish and the kids are due back from Sarah’s at midday, and you’ve got to be at the airport to meet them, do you want to wait, and go from here?’
‘No,’ he said. ‘I’ll take you back home. We’ll have breakfast there and then I’ll go; otherwise, it’ll be a hell of a crowd in the car. Besides, I don’t really like hanging about in the official residence; it’s all right for crashing out after we’ve been to a function, but I don’t feel comfortable here. However. .’ he paused, ‘before we go I want to nip across the road. I saw one of our patrol cars pull up outside the Book Festival when I was out. I think I’ll go across and check it out, just in case your pal Randy’s had a bit of bother overnight.’
‘Can’t keep your hands off, can you?’ She smiled at him again. ‘You see?’ she challenged. ‘You’re going to be no ordinary chief constable.’
Four
Sergeant Ian McCall winced as the mortuary attendants twisted the dead man’s head, violently, to straighten the neck, as they eased the body’s bulk into the plastic coffin.
One of them noticed his expression. ‘Another few hours and we’d have had to shove a bloody sight harder than that,’ he said. ‘This one’s only been dead for a few hours, so rigor’s only just setting in. We had a body once, a guy that gassed himself in his garage in a wee sports car wi’ a hard top. Wasnae found for a day. Fuckin’ job we had getting him out, then the two of us had tae sit on his knees and his chest tae straighten him out. We could hear the joints crackin’ like. Then there was-’
‘Save it for your memoirs, pal,’ said Inspector John ‘Jock’ Varley tersely. He turned to the medical officer who had just certified that Ainsley Glover was indeed far more dead than any of the characters that he had killed off during his fourteen-year, twenty-book career. ‘You’re sure about your diagnosis?’ he asked.