I pulled off Seafield Road into the forecourt of a car showroom and called Alf Stein, mobile to mobile. I brought him up to date with the investigation, as it stood, and told him what my team was doing. ‘I should have known,’ he sighed. ‘I move you to Serious Crimes and they get really fuckin’ serious. Press, Bob, press, until something cracks; that’s all you can do. Do you need any more manpower?’
‘For the moment, no. I like what I have. By the way, I’ve addressed the Macken and Reid problem. I’ll send you a memo for the record, but I’ve booted them.’
‘Good grounds?’ he murmured.
‘They’ll hold up.’
‘Okay, I’ll deal with it.’
‘Macken’s got to go from CID, completely,’ I added.
‘I get the picture. Shitty job in uniform.’
I headed back to Gullane. I picked up some stuff in ASDA and made it home by six forty, later than usual, but not enough to start Daisy fretting. ‘Alex is excited,’ she told me, as she put a sketch pad into her bag.
‘Why?’
‘Let her tell you. She’s in her kingdom.’ I’d guessed that; I could hear the radio.
I went upstairs to the attic as soon as Daisy had left, and knocked on her door. ‘Clear!’ she called, her way of saying ‘Come in’. She had a school pal with her, a lass called Susie something, whose dad was in PR, and whose mother taught in another village school along the coast.
‘What’s the story?’ I asked.
‘Didn’t Daisy tell you?’ She had her impressionable child face on, the one I didn’t see too much of any more, and her eyes were gleaming. ‘I had a dedication on Airburst. Mia Sparkles played a song for me. “Wonderwall”. Did you ask her to?’
‘No, it never occurred to me. That was off her own bat.’
‘What’s she like, Mr Skinner?’ Susie bubbled.
It was on the tip of my tongue to say that she was one of the most attractive women I’d met in a long time with a body that not even a radio station T-shirt could disguise, but I cut that down to, ‘She’s very nice. Alex,’ I told my daughter. ‘We’re having company for dinner.’
‘Same as last night?’ She’d become a bold adolescent in an instant.
‘Same. She’ll be here soon.’
Susie took her cue. She looked at the clock and exclaimed, ‘Gosh, is it that time?’ and jumped to her feet. I led the way downstairs and went into the kitchen while Alex walked her to the door.
‘What’s for dinner?’ she asked.
‘Smoked salmon, fillet steak and salad, then ice cream.’ Typical menu for a single man when entertaining.
‘Can I cook the steak on the George Foreman grill?’
‘No way. You might burn yourself, then the cruelty people would be after me.’
‘There’s more chance of you doing that.’
She had a point. ‘Okay,’ I said, ‘but remember to ask Alison how she wants hers done.’
I’d laid the smoked salmon on plates and was slicing Chinese leaves for the salad when the bell sounded. Alex beat me there. ‘Hi, Alison,’ she said, as she opened the door, like someone greeting a peer, not someone who was eighteen years older than her. ‘Nice to see you again.’
‘And you. Sorry I’m a bit late,’ she added, looking towards me, at the back of the hall. ‘There was more traffic than I expected.’ She had a small bag in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other. She held it up. ‘I brought this. Is it okay?’ It was Spanish; Sangre de Toro, by Torres. I’d bought a couple of the same in ASDA. She knows me , I thought.
‘Perfect. Ideal for what we’re having.’ I kissed her, chastely, took both from her, dropped her bag in my bedroom and went back to the kitchen. Alison came with me, leaving Alex to switch on the television.
I offered her a beer, while I finished assembling the salad. ‘Help yourself if you want one,’ I said. ‘They’re in the fridge.’
‘Can we go for a walk?’ she asked. ‘It’s a lovely night.’
She was right. Through the window I could see my back garden flooded with evening sunshine. ‘Why not?’ I said. ‘We’ll need to take Her Ladyship, though.’
‘Will she mind?’
She didn’t. She was so intrigued by Alison and by the possibilities of a relationship that if I’d said, ‘Get your jacket, we’re all going to the dentist,’ she’d have followed without a murmur. We walked the short distance to Gullane Bents, then, instead of going down on to the beach, took the path that runs along the fringe of the golf course, then climbs up to the summit of Gullane Hill. I’d brought a pair of binoculars, so that Alison could enjoy the view properly, a panorama stretching from Berwick Law, along the Fife coast, to Edinburgh, the Forth bridges and the distant Trossachs beyond.
Once she’d had her fill, we headed back, down the southern side of the hill and along the Main Street. We were all hungry by the time we reached home, so Alex switched on the Foreman and set it to warm up while we attacked the starter, and the Sangre de Toro… at least Alison and I did; I allowed my daughter an occasional small taste of wine with dinner, but only white, so she was restricted to Shloer apple juice. She did a damn good job with the steaks… three medium, but not bloody… but she left the cleaning of the grill to me, as I’d told her to. She and Alison did most of the talking around the table, their chat ranging from school, to pop culture, to fashion, and to village life. I let them get on with it, for I felt a weight upon me that I hadn’t anticipated. As I looked at the two of them, and listened to them talk, I realised that it was the first time I’d ever heard my daughter in conversation with a woman who was old enough to be her mother, other than Daisy, and when I was around they never said much more to each other than ‘Hello’ and ‘Goodbye’. I was overcome by a wave of the sort of sadness that I’d thought was behind me, and, hard as I fought against it, I could not prevent myself from seeing Myra in Alison’s place.
When I couldn’t stand it any longer, I stood up, abruptly. ‘Alex,’ I said, ‘isn’t there something on TV that you wanted to watch?’ It was twenty-five to ten, and we both knew that there wasn’t, but she took the hint.
‘Oh yes,’ she exclaimed, maybe a wee bit theatrically. ‘I’ve missed the start. Good night, Alison. Good night, Pops.’
‘Night, kid. Remember you’re going to Daisy’s at nine tomorrow.’ I’d fixed it before she’d left.
‘Yes. I’ll be ready.’
‘You working tomorrow?’ Alison asked, as she left, and I set about wiping down the grill.
‘A couple of doors to kick open. Doesn’t mean you have to rush off though.’
She frowned. ‘Yes, it does. You’ve got a lovely kid, Bob, but I don’t want her to start making assumptions. That’s how you drift into places you might not really want to be.’
‘That’s a fair point. Honest truth, Ali, after eight years I still haven’t a fucking clue where I want to be.’
She put her hands on my chest, palms flat. ‘Right now,’ she said, firmly, ‘you want to be with your daughter; any woman would have a tough time wedging in alongside you. In four or five years’ time, once she’s off to university, it’ll be different, but until then, you have to finish what you had to start when her mother died.’
‘You reckon?’
‘I know so. Now, what about the story you were going to tell me? What about my transfer?’
I smiled. I’d forgotten about that. ‘You pour us some more wine,’ I told her, ‘take it into the sitting room, and I’ll join you when I’m squared up here.’
‘That sounds like a plan.’ She waited while I uncorked a second bottle of Sangre de Toro, picked it up and went off to find our glasses.
I was putting the last of the cutlery in the dishwasher when my mobile sounded. I took it out, flipped it open and looked at its small screen. No name, which meant that the caller wasn’t logged in, and the number meant nothing to me. I thought about rejecting it, until I realised that it might be Mackie or Steele, or any one of my new boys.
But it wasn’t a boy. ‘Is that Mr Skinner?’ the voice asked.
‘Yes. Enlighten me.’
‘This is Mia, Mia Watson.’