‘What about Alice?’ I asked him, changing the subject. ‘Has she been interviewed?’
‘Absolutely. High level too; by Mario McGuire and Andy Martin. The chief’s accepted her resignation, by the way.’
‘Ah, that’s a bugger,’ I sighed, but in truth it wasn’t a huge surprise to me. I’d sensed things were heading that way. ‘What about Griff Montell? He’ll be okay, I suppose.’ Don’t let anyone tell you the police force isn’t still male dominated.
I heard another soft laugh at the other end of the line. ‘There’ll be a note on his record, and he’ll be taken out of the limelight for a while.’
‘What the hell does that mean?’
‘You’re going to love this,’ George chuckled. ‘He’s replacing Tarvil. The chief told me, just as I was leaving tonight.’
‘Jesus.’ I’d never worked with the guy, but I’d met him, through Alice. I wasn’t sure about him; he struck me as another testosterone-fuelled type, like Skinner, maybe even higher octane, being twenty years younger and a bloody Springbok into the bargain. ‘When does he start?’
‘As soon as he can be replaced in Leith; might even be Monday.’
‘Mmm,’ I muttered, not trying to hide my cynicism, letting him make what he would of that. ‘Listen,’ I went on, ‘the bigwigs’ interview with Alice: what did it cover?’
‘Not much; she gave them a written statement along with her resignation. Why?’
‘I’m wondering if I should talk to her, that’s all, about Varley and Welsh.’
‘On or off the record?’
It was my turn to laugh. ‘I thought everything we did was off the record, boss.’
‘True,’ he conceded. ‘Okay, do it, but there’s one thing you might not know. There’s history between Alice and Freddy Welsh.’
‘As in sexual history?’ I asked
‘Just so. She owned up to it at interview. Years ago and a one-off, she says, but it’s best if you’re aware of it when you speak to her. Have a good evening.’
‘Thanks, you too.’ As if, poor sod; his good evening would only involve another couple of drinks. ‘I’ll let you know how I get on.’
I finished mine, refilled my glass and dialled Alice’s mobile number. ‘Yes?’ she answered on the third ring, cautiously.
‘It’s me,’ I said, ‘Lisa. Didn’t your phone tell you?’
‘No, it came up as “Private number” that’s all.’
‘I see. Maybe something to do with my new job,’ I surmised.
‘Your. .’ She stopped. Having worked there herself, she knew the form. ‘Probably, if I read you right. When did that happen?’
‘This has been my first day in the office.’
‘Lucky you. No more of those for me. You’ll have heard, I take it.’
‘Only just. I’m sorry, Alice.’
‘Me too,’ she sighed, ‘but I fucked up big time, so I’m blaming nobody.’
‘Not even the Springbok?’
She hesitated. ‘No,’ she murmured, eventually, then added, ‘It would be nice if the sod would stop blanking me, though.’
‘If he does that, he’s not worth the grief. He’s come through it all right. Same old story,’ I snapped, ‘the boys always stick together.’
‘Hey, you’d be best to keep your feminist tendencies under wraps where you are now,’ she warned. ‘Shannon’s one of the boys herself; God knows, she’s test-driven enough of them in her time. Including your ex-gaffer, from what I hear.’
‘George?’ I exclaimed. ‘You’re kidding.’
‘Nope. It wasn’t recent, though, long before. .’
‘Well, there’s a surprise. And here’s one for you; he’s still my gaffer. I’ve just finished speaking to him, in fact. I asked his permission to call you.’
‘All change, eh,’ she chuckled softly. ‘But you don’t need his okay, surely. Am I really as non grata as that?’
‘Not at all,’ I told her. ‘It’s what I want to ask you that I thought I should clear. I’m looking into possible historic links between your uncle and the guy he called in the pub the other night.’
‘A call,’ Alice boomed, angrily, ‘that the son-of-a-bitch tried to claim I made, incidentally.’
‘Don’t worry,’ I assured her, ‘nobody’s buying that.’
‘I should think not.’ She paused. ‘Lisa, I suppose you know about the other guy and me.’
‘I’ve been told,’ I admitted.
‘And were you told what my shit of an uncle said when he was interviewed? That he’d spied on us when it happened.’
‘No, that’s news to me.’
‘That’s what he said, apparently; in fairly graphic terms too. Mr Martin called me to warn me that he’d been bailed. He said I’m to report any approach he makes to me, and he also filled me in on what he’d claimed, about me making the call, and why. Hell, Lisa, my dear uncle will be bloody lucky if I don’t approach him, armed to the teeth!’
‘Alice,’ I said, ‘I have to ask you this. You’re clear that there’s been nothing between you and this man since?’
‘Absolutely. I was drunk, he could barely get it up, plus he had BO, so it was an experience I regretted as soon as I’d sobered up. You know the kind, I’m sure.’
I could have lied and told her that I didn’t; instead, I let it pass. ‘Is there anything you can tell me about his relationship with your uncle, anything I don’t know?’
‘Other than just family?’
‘Yes.’
‘I wish I could. I wish I could give you a nice big juicy secret that would lead to the sods being banged up for five years, but there isn’t. There is no relationship between the two of them that I know of, other than him being my aunt’s cousin. Nothing professional, apart from the conservatory of course, and that was Jock and Aunt Ella giving him business.’
‘Say that again,’ I asked. ‘What conservatory?’
‘The one they had built on their house in Livingston. It’s a full-scale extension really, but that’s what Aunt Ella calls it. Bloody huge thing it is, not your bog standard double-glazing job. His company built it for them.’
‘It did? When?’
‘Can’t say for sure; five, six, seven years ago.’
‘Alice,’ I said, ‘I’ve just been all over the records of Anglesey Construction, from its very beginning. There’s no mention of any job with your uncle’s name on it. I will double-check with his auditor, but I’m bloody sure of it.’
Bob Skinner
I wasn’t planning on rushing back to Gullane that night, for reasons that were both personal and domestic. I knew the kids would be back home, so I called them and had a chat with each of them. They’d had a good week with their mother, and didn’t sound as if they were missing America one bit, although Mark took me by surprise by asking if he could have a mobile phone. He’s a responsible kid and he’s never given me a moment’s trouble since he came into our family, so I said that he could, subject to Sarah’s agreement, yet when I hung up the phone I was left with an inexplicable notion that, somehow, I’d been stitched up.
I was pondering this when my personal mobile sounded: as you’d expect, I have two, police and private. I checked the screen and saw that it was Aileen calling. I thought about letting it go to voicemail, but I couldn’t let myself be that petty, so I picked up.
‘Hi,’ I said, quietly, ready to signal a truce.
‘How are you?’ she asked; something in her voice told me that she wasn’t.
‘Busy,’ I replied.
‘Me too. Listen, Bob, I’ve been thinking. I have some constituency stuff to take care of in Glasgow tomorrow. Rather than have you glowering at me across the table before you disappear off to the pub for your Friday swill, I’ll go through there tonight and stay in the flat. Okay?’
Enough of being conciliatory. ‘Would it matter a toss if I said it wasn’t?’ I snapped. ‘You suit yourself, dear: as usual.’ I hit the red button to end the conversation.
I sat there for a couple of minutes, wondering how something could go so wrong so quickly. I could have made it right with one phone call. All it would have taken was for me to hit the return button and say, ‘Aileen, you’re right and I’m wrong. Your crowd are the policy makers and I’m the public servant. I’ll keep my mouth shut from now on and let you get on with your job.’