‘Neither have you,’ I pointed out.
‘Maybe not, but my will’s made. It’ll be a while before anyone inherits, though.’
I frowned. ‘Are you sure about that? Maybe you’re next, after Marlon.’
‘It’ll be an idiot that tries,’ he grunted.
‘You’ll tell us if he does, though. That’s not a request, Tony,’ I added.
‘Aye, I will,’ he said. ‘Eventually.’
I left him, lurking and pondering in his den. He had been more forthcoming than usual, once we’d got the tape nonsense out of the way; I didn’t necessarily believe it all, but as far as I could figure, he didn’t have a reason to lie to me.
I headed back to the office. There had been no big breakthrough in my absence. The guys were doing their best, but there was no good news, barely any at all, and the little there had been, discouraging.
‘I’ve spoken to McFaul in Newcastle,’ Leggat told me. ‘They didn’t find any mobile phones on any of the victims. They’ve been all through Church’s house too, and found hee-haw. Their next step, he says, is to track the call logs for their home phones and for Milburn’s taxi business.’
‘That’ll be a waste of time,’ I forecast, ‘but it’s got to be done, I suppose. What about Milburn’s office, and his house, and Shackleton’s?’ I asked. ‘Are they searching those too?’
My impatience must have been showing, for Fred’s look was questioning. ‘Do you really want me to ask them that, boss?’ he ventured. ‘Remember what you said about not telling them how to do their jobs?’
His point was undeniable. He’d never had to deal with a frustrated and restless Bob Skinner before, that was all. Suddenly, I found myself wanting to go home. I hadn’t been there in over twenty-four hours and the few off-duty hours I’d been able to snatch hadn’t helped my general condition. I couldn’t, of course, but I did have a manic need to keep moving. I cast around for things to do. I thought about going back to see Dougie Terry and giving him a harder time than before. I considered visiting my former near neighbour, Jackie Charles, and putting him through the wringer. But there was no point, in either case. It would have got me no further, and occasions such as those were best kept for when there was a real prospect of a result. Then I realised there was something I had promised to do, and forgotten with everything that had gone on. I went into my office and called Alison, on her mobile.
‘Hi,’ she said, making me feel good, and guilty, simultaneously. ‘I thought you must still be down in Newcastle, or that you’d just forgotten about me.’
‘Would I do that ever? We’re going sailing on Friday, remember? I’ve got that to look forward to.’ And a funeral, I thought, sombrely, that as well.
‘Are you ready?’ she asked.
‘Give me a break,’ I pleaded. ‘It’s two days away.’
‘No,’ she laughed, ‘not that. Are you ready for me to come up and see you?’
‘No,’ I countered. ‘You stay where you are. I’ll come to you. No sense in you bringing files up here, just to take them back again.’
‘Are you sure? It’s no bother, honest.’
‘I’m sure. At this moment, I’m better off on the move.’
She chuckled. ‘Ah, it’s one of those days, is it?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Do you think I don’t know what you’re like, after the time we spent working together? Come on down then. I’ll get the coffee on.’
She really was good for me. There was a stability about her that seemed to transfer itself to me whenever I needed it, whenever I became as frantic as I’d been. Again, I found myself thinking of the choice I’d made around midnight, and how fucking stupid it had been. ‘Got any Gold Blend?’
‘Take what you get, Detective Superintendent. Nescafe original only here.’
‘I’ll bring some, in that case.’
As it turned out they didn’t have any in the Stockbridge grocer that I called into on my way, but they did have a pretty decent Douwe Egberts instant, and I settled for that.
There was a probationer on the desk when I walked into the Torphichen Place office from the car park at the back of the building. He didn’t recognise me when I came in through the door behind him and wasn’t sure whether to ask for my ID, but I showed it to him anyway. His name badge read PC Ray Wilding. He seemed a bit overawed, and I wondered whether he’d make it through training.
I was halfway up the stairs when I met Alastair Grant, coming down, wearing a Barbour jacket and with his car keys in his hand. He stopped and said, ‘Hello.’ Normally that would have been it with Alastair, for he was a quiet bloke, but he continued. ‘When are you giving me my DI back, Bob?’
‘As soon as I can, mate,’ I retorted, stung slightly by his question. ‘Do you think I’m spinning out this investigation just to keep Alison close?’
‘No, no, no, no, no,’ he insisted: four more than sincerity demanded.
He was a nice bloke, as well as a quiet one, and at once I regretted biting him. ‘One “No” would have been enough, Alastair. Are you pushed, flying one short?’
‘Just a bit,’ he admitted. ‘I’d an armed robbery yesterday, the third from a pharmacy this month.’
‘Drug thefts?’
‘Yes.’
‘Wish I’d known earlier,’ I grunted. ‘I was with Tony Manson earlier; I could have told him it was becoming a problem. He’d put them out of business quicker than we can.’
‘Sure,’ he agreed, ‘but permanently.’ I think I made him nervous sometimes. ‘Ah, I’m just having a moan, Bob; don’t mind me.’
‘I won’t. The Weir murder started off as your inquiry, remember, before Alf slung it over to me.’
‘Very true. I suppose all I can do is wish you luck with it.’
I smiled. ‘I’d sooner rely on methodical detective work, myself. Anyway, I do not feel at my luckiest today. A door barely opens before it’s slammed in my face again. I hope Alison’s going to change that.’
I wished him luck, and carried on upstairs. The layout of Torphichen CID was pretty much like my own, which meant that the detective super had the private office, and the rest had desks in an open area. Alison looked up and smiled as I came in. I held up the Douwe Egberts. ‘This is yours,’ I told her. ‘To be taken home; don’t leave it here or it’ll be nicked. Nothing’s safe in a police office. But, before you put it in your bag, open it and make me a mug.’
‘Fair exchange,’ she agreed.
I watched her as she crossed the room, to the table with the kettle, the milk and the mugs. The place was empty save for a couple of DCs in deep discussion in a far corner, so my study was unobserved. She moved with the confidence of a person who was happy in her skin, on legs that were muscular but beautifully shaped, as if they’d been carved by a master from an unblemished piece of oak. The rest of her body was a good match, but it was the warmth of the being within that I found most attractive. She was too good for me, that was for sure. ‘I’m sorry,’ I whispered, very softly.
She turned just at that moment, and saw my lips move. ‘I missed that,’ she called out. ‘What did you say?’
‘I said, how would you like to come home with me tonight?’ How weak and indecisive was I?
‘Yes,’ she replied, ‘but that wasn’t it.’
‘No, I said sorry for not calling you earlier.’
She smiled as she placed a mug in front of me, on a Capital Copiers coaster, on her desk. ‘You boss, me underling. I’m meant to wait until you’re ready.’
‘That’ll be the day,’ I chuckled.
‘That’s the rule,’ she insisted. ‘Anyway, you sounded completely frazzled when you did call, so I took it that you’d had a bad time. Actually, you still look pretty wired.’
I sighed, heavily. ‘Do I? And here was me thinking I was supercop. Yes, we had a fairly testing experience, young Andy and I.’ I told her about our visit to Winston Church and what we had found. I left out the worst of the detail, but I didn’t fool her.
‘So you won’t be passing the crime scene photos round the table after dinner,’ she said.
‘No, I will not. I like my carpet the way it is.’