‘And how did you get the pin number?’
‘It wis in there an a’, in the wallet. Oan a wee piece of paper. I tried it an’ it worked first time. Ye’d think folk wid be more careful.’
‘Where did you find the wallet?’
‘I found it oan the ground, ken, on the path under the big, high bridge. Yesterday.’
‘You seriously expect us to believe that, son?’ the inspector said. ‘You’ll be telling us next that you’ve turned over a new leaf – gone respectable, going straight!’
‘Aye. I expect youse tae believe us.’
‘The big, high bridge?’ Alice picked up the thread once more.
‘Aha. The wan o’er the Water o’ Leith.’
‘The Dean Bridge, is that the one you mean?’
‘Maybe… Aha.’
‘Where exactly under that bridge did you find it?’
‘Under the bridge,’ he repeated impatiently, ‘by some bushes just as you go under it.’
‘On which side?’
‘Em…’ he racked his brain, trying to think of something further to identify the location. ‘Em… on the Princes Street side. I could take you there, tae the place.’
‘Why were you there?’
‘Why no’? It’s for the public, isn’t it? I’m the public. I was taking my pal’s wee dug for a walk in the morning. It’s a bull terrier pup, if you need tae ken. No’ wan o’ they dangerous dogs neither.’
‘Where is it – the wallet, I mean?’
‘In the Water o’ Leith, I chucked it in there.’
‘After you’d taken out what from it?’
‘Em… now let me think. Em… a’ the cairds, a’ the notes and the change, the wee bit o’ paper… and a driver’s licence. That’s a’.’
‘And where is the card now?’
Ally fingered its thin plastic edge in his pocket. Frankie would not want the police in their flat, dirtying the carpets with their mucky boots and pulling everything out of their drawers. Well, he thought to himself, the policewoman had asked for it, so she could have it. Slowly, he pulled a clear plastic sachet from his trouser pocket, containing a single, white, half-frozen mouse, which he laid on the table. Then he extracted the card and carefully slid it below the tiny corpse.
‘What on earth is that?’ Alice asked, peering at the little corpse but making no attempt to take the card on which it lay.
‘Em… that’s Armageddon’s tea. I’ve been thawing it oot fer him,’ he answered, smiling broadly. ‘You no’ like mice then, hen?’ he added.
DI Manson, who had been sitting back from the table with his arms crossed, pulled in his chair and leant over to take a look. Seeing the card sticking out from below the dead rodent, he pulled his jacket sleeve over his hand as a glove and nudged the mouse off it.
The door opened and DC Littlewood’s head appeared. Looking at Alice, he said, ‘Sorry to interrupt, but the DCI’s just heard that Una Reid’s been traced. She says that you’ve to go and see her, Sarge. She’s at her work, at the Abbey Park Lodge, that home in Comely Bank.’
‘This very minute?’ Alice said, looking at her watch, feeling suddenly tired. Five o’ clock, and still she had not found time to buy a present for Ian’s birthday. It was past praying for now.
‘Aye. Pronto.’
‘Off you go, Alice,’ the Inspector said faintly, waving for her to leave. ‘I’ll finish off this…’ he pointed at Livingstone, ‘wee, sleekit, cowran, tim’rous… shitie.’
But Eric Manson did not want to take over the interview. He had stopped listening to Livingstone’s words early on, had allowed his thoughts free range, and as always, of late, they had returned home to Margaret. His preoccupation. What was going on? Why did she no longer have any time for him, why was she always out and about, too busy to sit with him, talk to him even? Something must be happening to her, to them.
But, for the moment, he would have to try and concentrate on the matter in hand. So, the wee shitie would just have to begin all over again. Teach him for gobbing on the station floor, anyway.
5
Two things struck Alice Rice as she walked through the doors of the Abbey Park Lodge in search of Una Reid. The first was the unnatural warmth of the place, enveloping her like a soft blanket, and the second was the institutional smell. Her nose told her that it was composed of a blend of yesterday’s mince, floral air freshener and stale human urine, and in the competition between the three ingredients the last emerged as a clear victor. Initially, she attempted to make the supply of fresh air in her lungs last unnaturally long, but by the time she reached the bottom of the main stair they were crying out for oxygen and she had no alternative but to breathe in and inhale the place’s foetid atmosphere.
Entering the residents’ lounge, she almost walked into a paper banner which hung loosely from one side of the room to the other, proclaiming in huge, multi-coloured letters, ‘HAPPY BIRTHDAY, RHONA’. As she stood in front of it, a female resident sidled up to her, looked timidly into her eyes, and then, unexpectedly, grasped her hand and began pulling her towards the Formica-topped table at one end of the room.
Seated at it were five elderly women, three of them fast asleep with their chins resting on their bony chests, another one apparently awake but staring blankly into the middle distance. The last was cleaning her paintbrush by sucking it in her toothless mouth. A male care assistant was busily engaged in painting a giant birthday card, dipping his brush in and out of the paint pots, apparently oblivious to the fact that most of his helpers had dozed off. Assuming she was related to the resident clasping her hand, he gave Alice a friendly nod and began sprinkling glitter on the lettering of the homemade card.
‘Excuse me,’ Alice began, ‘but I’ve come to see Una Reid, could you tell me where I’d find her?’ As she spoke, she tried to free herself from her captor, but the bony hand was immovable.
‘Aye,’ answered the attendant, blowing away loose sparkles before turning his attention to the stranger, ‘she’s… ah,’ he hesitated as the last specks flew off the table and onto the floor, ‘she’s giving Miss Swire her tea.’
Thanking him, Alice turned to leave the group, but found that she was unable to do so, the old lady still firmly attached to her and leaning back on her heels, straining to prevent any escape. Seeing Alice’s discomfort and realising his own mistake, the assistant said, ‘Come on now, Betty, let the nice lady go.’
Betty, however, had no intention of releasing her new friend, and making her defiance plain, simply clamped her other hand over Alice’s already entrapped one.
‘Maybe she could just go with you as far as Miss Swire’s door?’ the assistant asked tentatively. His attention was now divided, as he busied himself doing up the buttons on the blouse of his nearest neighbour, as she resolutely and as quickly unbuttoned them.
‘Aye, I’ll just come along to Miss Swire’s ro…’ Betty declared, ready to go, but before she had finished her sentence, an over-vigorous movement on the part of the yellow-lipped painter sent the paint-water jar crashing on its side, flooding the table and ruining the card. Within seconds, the thin khaki liquid began to drip over the edge of the Formica onto the laps of those sitting at it.
Alice silently nodded to the assistant. After all, he only had one pair of hands and the air was now filled with shrill cries of horror, as the three sleepers were woken by the cold water pouring onto their sunken laps. One of them, her hair scraped back into a sparse bun, began shouting, over and over, ‘Stop it! Stop it now! Stop it! Stop it now!’ staring at the water, ordering it to cease flowing and stand still.
Edging together along the low corridor, Betty’s tottering gait dictating their speed, Alice and her companion finally reached Miss Swire’s bedroom door. Pinned onto it, as a reminder that the past had been different, were a couple of photographs of the resident in her youth. The largest one showed her wielding a golf club and beaming happily at the camera, and in a smaller picture she was in an academic gown, distributing prizes at the school she had been headmistress of for almost quarter of a century. As Alice was examining it, at the same time trying to work out the best way to free herself, Betty pushed the door open with her forehead and, still hand in hand with her victim, began to walk into the room jerking her reluctant companion with her.