He pushed the envelope marked ‘S’ back across the table. ‘Take that away,’ he told her, ‘and revise it, adding in everything that you’ve told us here, and anything else that you haven’t. If Welsh sent you flowers afterwards as a “Thank you” gesture, you must declare that. List every contact you’ve had with him since your encounter. Once you’ve done that, bring it back and we will treat it as if it was in the first envelope you gave us, as if you volunteered everything in it. . as, eventually, you did.’ He turned to me. ‘You all right with that, Andy?’
‘Yes,’ I replied, ‘as long as you understand that after it goes to the Crown Office it’s out of our hands. We can only recommend; any decision on prosecution is theirs.’
‘I understand.’ She picked up the envelope, then looked me in the eye. ‘Should I take legal advice?’
‘That’s up to you,’ I replied. ‘If it’s any help, I would in your shoes. If you want to run your statement past a solicitor before you submit it formally, that’s fine by us. But be wary of anyone who tells you to say nothing at all. In reality, you’ve already said it; while this has all been unrecorded, it’s not privileged, and if necessary we’ll be obliged to disclose its contents. Apart from that though, the fiscal takes a dim view of people who stare at the wall and decline to answer any questions.’
‘Okay. Thanks.’ She stood. ‘Where do I hand it in, when I’m ready?’
‘My office,’ Mario told her.
‘I don’t have to come back here?’
‘No.’
‘That’s good. I don’t want to bump into Griff.’
‘Are you and he. .’
She took a quick bite of her lower lip. ‘He is.’
I walked her back to reception, to the front door. Not that she didn’t know the way out, but I felt that if she was seen with me, looking reasonably relaxed, it would be better than if we’d left her to walk out on her own, head down, every eye in the place following her. ‘So you’re in the doghouse?’ I asked as we reached the door.
‘No, it’s worse than that. Seafield cat and dog home, unclaimed, on death row.’
It was my turn to chuckle. ‘Been there,’ I confessed, ‘but I survived.’
‘How? I could use a tip.’
‘Look as pathetic as you can manage,’ I advised her. ‘Eventually someone’ll take pity on you. It worked for me.’
‘Mmm. In that case you might know where I can pick up a length of sackcloth. The ashes of my career are still warm, so I don’t need any of them.’
I hadn’t expected to, but I felt sorry for her. She’d been no more foolish than many, but a lot less lucky than most. ‘Listen, Alice,’ I said, quietly. ‘Once this is all sorted, and some time’s passed, give me a call if you want to.’ I gave her a card. ‘My office number. I won’t make any promises, but you never know. Resignation is probably the right move just now; much cleaner than the alternative, and no public stigma attached.’
‘Thanks, Mr Martin,’ she murmured. ‘I’ll keep that in mind.’
As she walked away, I called after her. She turned. ‘What?’
‘One thing; if you decide to use that card you’ll need to lose the hair gel.’
Mario was still in the interview room when I returned. So were two tall Starbuck containers, and a couple of croissants. I stared at him. ‘Where the hell did those come from?’
‘Paula dropped them in for us. I told her we’d be here about now.’
‘Some girl, Paula. How’s she doing?’
‘Magic. She’s just magic. She’s had all the scans going and every one’s a photo opportunity. The wee fella looks so comfy in there he might not want to come out.’
‘A couple of months without a full night’s sleep and you’ll want him to crawl back inside,’ I told him. ‘Will you be looking to move house?’
He looked at me as if I’d asked him if he wanted a ticket for the next Hearts game, and answered me as if I had. ‘Why the hell would we want to do that?’
‘You live in a duplex, man,’ I pointed out. ‘However many floors up.’
‘We have lifts, Andy, and two parking places in the underground garage.’
‘But lifts break down.’
‘They don’t, actually. They’re serviced more often than a police car, and they’re driven a hell of a lot more kindly.’
‘But the height, the balcony. .’
‘The windows are secure, you couldn’t fall out if you tried, and his name’s going to be Eamon, not Spiderman. Your kids come to visit you from time to time, yes?’
‘Yes.’
‘Do you ever worry about them falling in the Water of Leith?’
‘Well, no. .’ I admitted.
‘Exactly. Look, if Paula says we’ll move we’ll move, sure, but as of this moment, she doesn’t want to. Do you see us in a nice big house with a garden?’ He shook his head. ‘Fuck no.’ He killed half his croissant in a single bite.
‘That was a turn-up with Alice, was it not?’ I ventured.
‘Sure was. Getting pissed at a wedding and shagging a married bloke in the car park? I did not have her down for that at all.’
‘Me neither,’ I agreed. ‘But I wonder if Uncle Jock did. Ready for him?’
He raised his coffee. ‘Let’s kill these first. I need the caffeine rush. I always have a couple of espresso shots in my Starbuck’s; does much more for me than any of that ersatz cream they stick on them. Yours is the same.’
I took a mouthful of mine, and imagined that I could feel my heart rate increase by about twenty beats. ‘This is as bad as Bob’s stuff,’ I gasped.
When we were finished Mario dumped the empties in a bin in the corner, then left the room to have Varley brought along from his overnight accommodation. By the time he arrived, brought in by an escort, we were both seated behind the desk, but on the same side. I had binned the unused CDs and two fresh ones, still wrapped, lay beside the recorder.
I’d wondered if I might recognise the inspector after all, but I didn’t. There are over three thousand people in the Edinburgh force, more than the population of many a small township, and it is possible to be a serving officer for years and still bump into strangers, even though they may have been around for longer than you. He recognised me, though; I could tell by the way his eyes narrowed.
Although he’d been held in custody overnight he looked smart. He was wearing his uniform, having been arrested, discreetly, at his office, and he’d been allowed to shave, under supervision, I assumed. Unlikely or not, the last thing Mario would have wanted was a suicide attempt in the custody suite. His grey-black hair was neatly and recently cut and his moustache was as sharp as the edge of a well-trimmed lawn.
‘We’ve got to stop meeting like this, Jock,’ my companion said. ‘You under arrest, me on this side of the table.’
His mouth tightened. ‘Not funny, sir.’
‘I wasn’t laughing.’ He picked up the CDs, opened them as theatrically as before to demonstrate that they were virgin, loaded the machine, and switched it on. He began with the date and time, then,
‘I am Detective Chief Superintendent Mario McGuire accompanied by Mr Andrew Martin, director of the SCDEA, based in Paisley, present at the request of the chief constable. Please state your name for the recorder.’
‘Inspector John Varley, aged forty-four, a uniformed officer stationed at Gayfield Square.’ He was calm and controlled; no histrionics, no show of indignation over his detention.
‘Again for the record, Inspector Varley, although you haven’t been charged you have been offered the chance to have a lawyer present at this interview, and you have declined. Is that correct?’
‘It is, sir.’
‘You may reconsider that if you wish.’
I knew why Mario was being so particular. For years Scots law allowed the police to question suspects for up to six hours without having access to legal advice. Then, out of the blue, that situation was overturned by a Supreme Court decision, controversial in itself since that London court wasn’t given oversight of Scottish criminal appeals when it was set up. Chaos ensued and since then cops everywhere in Scotland have erred on the side of caution. As a ranking officer, Varley would have been only too aware of the new ground rules, so my crafty pal was making certain that he couldn’t use it to create any loopholes he could slip through later.