‘Every step of the way, once we’ve got him in our hands.’
‘Even if it’s tomorrow?’
‘Even if.’ I pocketed the mobile and rejoined the traffic.
‘How do you manage?’ Mia asked.
‘Manage what?’
‘Life. Don’t you ever have any time to yourself?’
‘Not really,’ I admitted, ‘not in the job I do.’
‘Drugs Squad, it said on the card you gave me.’
‘Not any more. I’m Serious Crimes Unit, now.’
‘But you don’t work alone.’
‘No,’ I conceded. ‘I have a team, but I’m two days into the job and I’m still sizing people up.’
‘So our Marlon’s murder is a serious crime.’
‘All murders are, Mia. But his becomes of interest to my unit because of the job he did.’
‘Driving for my mother’s fancy man?’
‘That’s right.’
‘Is he a killer, this man?’
‘Not personally, no more than the Governor of Texas.’
She twisted round in her seat and gazed at me. ‘What do you mean by that?’ she asked.
I considered my reply. ‘Well, when George Bush Junior,’ I began, ‘signs off on the execution of some unlucky bastard on his death row list, he doesn’t go along to Huntsville and give the injection himself, but it happens as surely as if he did. It’s the same with Tony Manson, and people like him. They give the word and somebody dies. The man your Uncle Billy shot, Perry Holmes, he was the same as Manson.’
‘Why did Billy shoot him? I was a journo in Aberdeen then. I wasn’t party to the details, and my dad didn’t discuss it.’
Shit! I thought. Why did I mention Holmes? She doesn’t know anything about it.
‘You don’t want to go there, honey.’
‘I think we’re beyond that option, Bob, aren’t we?’
We were. If I clammed up, she’d find out. ‘We believe that it was Holmes who had Gavin and Ryan killed. He had them executed; they’d been freelancing drugs, and to him that was a capital offence. Billy hadn’t been involved, but we understand he made him watch what happened to them.’
‘And Billy executed him in his turn?’
‘It didn’t work out that way, not quite. He killed his brother, but Perry survived. He’s a basket case, though, and out of that life. Now please, let’s not talk about it any more. These are the people I have to work amongst. I’m nearly home now, and I don’t allow that part of my life in there.’
She reached out and squeezed my hand. ‘Poor love. I’m sorry.’ At that moment, we were passing the bend where Myra died.
The mood had changed by the time we passed the quarry corner and the Gullane skyline, beyond the golf courses, came into sight. ‘Oh!’ Mia exclaimed. ‘That’s beautiful.’
‘That’s what most people say the first time they see it. I remember I did. We had to put ourselves in hock to live here, but not doing so wasn’t an option.’
‘I’ve been here before,’ she confessed. ‘When I was about eight. Gavin brought Mum and us out here one day. I remember, he left us all on the beach and came back for us after a couple of hours. It was about this time of year, ’cos it was quiet. I wanted to go in the sea, but we didn’t have swimsuits or anything, not even towels. I made such a fuss, though, that eventually Mum told me to go in the nuddy if I was that keen. So I did, then ran up and down the hard sand till I was dry. Gavin did his nut when he came back and saw me. I remember him screaming at Mum that she was letting me make an exhibition of myself, even though there was hardly anybody else there but old couples walking dogs.’
‘I could hazard a guess about why he got humpty. He was probably out this way on business, and didn’t want attention drawn to himself in any way.’
‘You don’t have drugs in Gullane, do you?’ she exclaimed.
I frowned. ‘My ego isn’t so big that I’d assume there are none just because I live here. But I do keep my eyes and ears open. If anyone was pushing hard drugs I’d know about it, and I’d come down on them so hard that folk would talk about it for years afterwards. There was one clown a few years ago, along in North Berwick, selling pills to kids out of the back of his car. A concerned parent told me about it, and he’s still inside.’
Instead of going straight home I cruised past Daisy’s place and blasted the horn. A few seconds later, Alex appeared in the doorway, Tesco bags in both hands. I waved to Daisy, then reached behind me to open a back door. I wish I’d taken a photograph, for the expression on her face, as she saw that the front passenger seat was occupied, should have been preserved for posterity. It was a mix of curiosity and concern. I could read her mind; no women for eight years and now two in two days. Was her old man having a mid-life crisis?
‘Hi, kid,’ I said, as if it was just the two of us. ‘Had a good day?’
‘Yes,’ she replied. ‘Tesco was heaving, though.’ Her eyes were fixed on mine in the rear-view. Her reaction puzzled me until I worked out the obvious, that Mia was a radio star and relatively new on the scene, so there was no reason why she should recognise her.
‘This is Miss Watson,’ I told her, deadpan. ‘She’s come to visit us. Miss Watson, this is my daughter Alex.’
Mia reached back and they shook hands. ‘Pleased to meet you,’ Alex said, but I wasn’t convinced. She liked Alison. I began to wonder if I’d made a big error of judgement.
I was still unsure when we arrived home. I pulled the tank alongside the BMW. ‘The window sticker does not lie,’ I pointed out. Our guest smiled, but said nothing. I guessed that she might have been spooked too by my daughter’s reaction, so I put an end to the game.
‘Alex,’ I said, ‘Miss Watson has a first name, and I don’t think she’d mind you using it. She’s called Mia.’
She stared at me and dropped the bags, then looked at Mia and back to me. ‘Mia Sparkles?’ she exclaimed.
‘You got it in one. I told her all about you and she wanted to meet you. She doesn’t get too many chances to meet her listeners.’
‘Why didn’t you say so from the start?’ she scolded me. ‘Instead of playing childish bloody games!’
Maybe I should have told her to mind her language, but mine wasn’t always perfect around her, so all I did was wink and say a very meek, ‘Sorry.’
I unlocked the front door and ushered Mia inside. I didn’t think that the cottage was anything special, but it seemed to appeal to her. I’ve never thought of myself as a romantic, but it struck me that the feeling was mutual. With her in it, my comfortable but well-worn living room seemed to be enhanced. Or had it become again what it once was, was that it? Or was it all my imagination?
‘I’m going to put the kettle on,’ I announced. ‘Alex, show Mia around the house. I’ll be in the garden when you’re done, with tea on a tray… if that’s all right with you ladies.’
‘Fine by me,’ Mia responded. She fished the envelope out of her bag and presented it. Her fan’s eyes lit up again.
They were talking, animatedly, when they rejoined me, ten minutes later. By that time I’d dug the garden chairs out of the shed, their first airing of the year, and made a pot of Darjeeling and Earl Grey blend… to me, tea is tea, but Alex liked that mix.
‘What do you like most about the station?’ I heard her new friend ask, as I passed round the mugs.
‘I only listen to you,’ she replied with the candour that she’s never learned to tone down. ‘You play the music I like, you talk about interesting things and you don’t treat me like a kid.’
‘Interesting things?’ I butted in. ‘Such as?’
She frowned at me. ‘Things I can’t talk to you about. Clothes, because you’re all stuffy and conservative when we go shopping. Movie stars, because you think they’re all a bunch of useless tossers. Women’s things, because you’re my dad and it makes you uncomfortable.’
She was right, on every count. ‘You talk about all those things?’ I asked Mia.
‘Of course.’
‘Including…’
She smiled, and her eyes seemed to engulf me again. ‘Including that. Bob, my audience are predominantly young women; that’s what our research shows. Young women have periods. They’re an inevitable part of life, so why shouldn’t I talk about them on radio? Puberty’s easy for you guys; your voices squeak for a bit and that’s it. One day you’re Macaulay Culkin and the next you’re Tom Cruise.’