‘That’s right,’ she confirmed, ‘she has. Her husband used to be a cop too. His name’s Scott, as I recall. I’ve got no idea what the wee boy’s called.’
‘Used to be, you say?’
‘Yes. He left the force a few years back. No, that’s a euphemism; he was encouraged to resign. He had a drink problem and eventually it couldn’t be tolerated any more. The job probably didn’t help, for he seems to have got himself together after he left it. The last I heard he was working in security in a big cash and carry warehouse out near Easterhouse.’ She smiled. ‘There’s a story about Lottie and an interdivisional boxing night. .’
‘I’ve heard it. Max Allan told me.’
‘Aye but did he tell you the name of the cop she flattened? It was Scott; that was how they met.’
Skinner laughed, softly. ‘There’s a love story for you. Somebody should make the movie.’
‘Fine, but who would you get to play Lottie?’
‘That would be a problem, I concede. Gerard Butler in drag, maybe.’ A name suggested itself. ‘Joey Morocco?’
‘Mr Glasgow? Our movie flavour of the month? He looks good, granted, but I wonder sometimes if there’s any real substance to him. I’m pretty sure I’d back Lottie against him over ten rounds.’
‘Maybe I’ll make that match,’ the chief murmured. ‘It would fill Ibrox Stadium. Bridie,’ he said, his tone changing, ‘I know you’re as surprised to see me here as I am to be here.’
She contradicted him. ‘No, I’m not. What happened, happened. I think they’ve done the right thing. This force always needs a strong hand; Max is too old, I don’t have the experience in the rank, and neither does Michael, whatever he might think.’ She frowned, concern in her eyes. ‘How is Max, by the way?’
‘He’s okay, but it remains to be seen whether he’ll be back. But whether he is or not. . I have to get some hierarchy in place here. That means I need to appoint a temporary deputy chief. Even if Max was here, I’d want that to be you. Are you up for it?’
She was silent for a few seconds. ‘How can I say no?’ she asked when she was ready. ‘But what are you going to tell Thomas?’
‘I don’t plan to explain myself, if that’s what you mean, Bridie. The Police Authority gave me the power to designate my deputy, and you are it.’
She smiled, and said, ‘This might sound daft, Bob, but. . what will I have to do as deputy?’
He returned her awkward grin and replied, ‘To be honest, I don’t know yet, not in any detail, because I don’t know yet what the demands of the job will be on me. Mind you, they have just cast doubt on my plans to go to my house in Spain in a couple of weeks’ time, something I’ll have to break to my children. Holidays might prove to be out of the question.’
‘Aw, what a shame,’ she exclaimed, like a kindly aunt. ‘The poor wee souls.’
‘It might not be a complete disaster. I’ll ask their mother if she can clear some time to take them instead.’ He sighed. ‘As for your question, all I can say is that you’ll deputise for me whenever it’s necessary.’
‘I’d better go and practise looking important then,’ the ACC chuckled. ‘Was there anything else for now?’
‘No. My usual practice is to have a morning session with my senior colleagues. I’ll probably carry that on here; Lowell Payne will advise everybody. He’s going to be my aide while I’m settling in here, maybe for longer.’
‘Good,’ she declared. ‘I like Lowell. He tends to fly below the radar; that may be why he hasn’t risen higher.’
‘I don’t think he’s bothered about that. I know him well, from outside the force, and I’m glad to have him alongside me.’ He stood. She thought he was indicating the end of the meeting and was in the act of rising, but he waved to her to stay seated.
‘I’m just about to call Lottie up here, to give me an update on her investigation. You stay here and sit in; belt and braces. Christ, after what happened to Toni, none of us can be sure we’re going to see tomorrow.’
Ten
‘I could get to like this,’ Aileen said. ‘Bob’s garden in Gullane is nice too, but it overlooks the beach. He refuses to plant trees to give it a bit of privacy; says he likes the view.’ She picked up her glass from the wrought-iron table. ‘Well he’s bloody welcome to it!’
Don’t get to like it too much, Joey Morocco thought. He had been on the astonished side of surprised when Aileen had called him the night before, almost raving about being imprisoned by her husband and seeking sanctuary for a day or two, but they had enjoyed regular liaisons a few years before, and the occasional fling since.
Their history together had been enough to overcome his caution about taking another man’s wife under his roof, even when the man was as formidable as Bob Skinner was said to be.
Nonetheless, when she had defined their renewed relationship, ‘just fun, convenient uncomplicated nookie, no more than that’, he had been relieved. He was bound for Los Angeles in a few days, for the film project that was going to make him, he knew, and the last thing he wanted was a heavy-duty woman in Scotland with her claws in him.
‘Are you sure that’s really what you want?’ he asked. ‘To end your marriage?’
‘Bloody certain,’ she replied. ‘I don’t actually know what drew me to him in the first place.’ She grinned. ‘No, that’s not true, I do. I wanted to find out if he matched up to the waves he was giving out. Very few do, in my limited experience.’
‘Did he?’
‘At first, yes. Then I made the mistake of marrying him. It all got mediocre after that, but I suppose that’s life. I’ll learn from it, though; once is enough.’
He smiled.
‘And you’re relieved to hear that, I know,’ she said. ‘Don’t worry, Joey. My career is all planned out, and it doesn’t take me within six thousand miles of where you’re going.’ She looked around the suntrap garden once more. ‘But this is nice. I like it here; it suits me. I’m guessing that when you go to the US, you won’t be back here very often, so if you need a tenant, let me know.’
‘I will,’ he promised. ‘The way my commitments are, I won’t be back for at least a year, so that might work. You’d be a house-sitter, though, not a tenant.’
‘No,’ she declared. ‘It would have to be formal. I couldn’t be seen as your bidey-in, even though you were never here.’
He shrugged. ‘Whatever,’ he murmured, hoping secretly that it would all be forgotten by the next morning. ‘Want another drink?’ he asked.
Aileen pressed her glass to her chest. ‘No, I’m fine,’ she said. ‘I’m not a big afternoon drinker. . or evening, come to that. You’ve seen me in action before. You know I can’t handle it.’
‘True,’ he conceded. ‘If you’re sure. . I think I’ll get another beer, if you don’t mind.’
‘Not a bit.’
He wandered back into the kitchen, and took another Rolling Rock from the fridge. He had just uncapped it when the phone rang. He frowned, irked by the interruption, wondering which of the few people with access to his unlisted number had a need to call it on a bloody Sunday, when they all knew it was the day he liked to keep to himself.
‘Yes,’ he barked, not choosing to hide his impatience.
‘Is that Joey Morocco?’ a female voice asked.
‘Depends who this is.’
‘My name’s Marguerite Hatton. I’m on the political staff of the Daily News.’
‘And I’m a bloody actor, so why are you calling me?’ Hatton, Hatton; the name was fresh in his mind. Of course, the woman from the press conference, she who had tried to give Aileen’s husband a hard time, and had her arse well kicked.
‘I’m trying to locate Aileen de Marco,’ she replied. ‘I’d like to talk to her about her ordeal last night and how relieved she feels that the killer got the wrong woman.’
‘So?’ he challenged. ‘Why are you calling me?’
‘You’re quoted as saying, last night as you left the concert hall, that you’re a friend of hers,’ she explained. ‘I’m calling around everyone; the Labour Party, Glasgow councillors, anyone who might know her, actually, but she seems to have disappeared. Do you have any idea where she might be?’