‘That I really don’t know.’
‘So we might find it and never realise,’ she suggested.
‘That’s possible,’ I admitted. ‘There’s only one other thing I’d do,’ I added, ‘if I was leading this hypothetical inquiry. I’d go through Hodgson’s credit card and bank card activity in the weeks before the theft of the Princess.’
‘Why?’
‘I’d be looking to place him somewhere unusual, somewhere that was away from the norm for him. Put him there and see what shows up in the vicinity.’
‘We’ll do that, sir. Can I come back to you if I need to?’ she asked.
‘Not without DCC McGuire’s express permission. I’ve got too much on my conscience already without a broken career adding to it.’
‘Not the chief’s consent?’ She’s shrewd, is Lottie.
‘The DCC’s your line manager. If he’s fully in the picture he’ll make his own decision. That’s how it should be. And by the way,’ I added, ‘you should protect Provan from any fallout. If that wee guy thought you were being picked on, he’d go for whoever did it, regardless, and he’s got far too much pension to lose.’
It wasn’t until I’d pocketed my phone that I heard a sound from behind me and turned, to see Alex standing in the doorway, holding a Costa coffee in each hand.
‘What the hell are you involved with now?’ she asked.
‘Nothing if your ex has anything to do with it,’ I told her. ‘Is one of those for me?’ I asked.
‘Yes. I saw your car in the park, and I reckoned it was about that time. Who was that on the phone anyway?’
‘One of my former foot soldiers from Strathclyde,’ I replied, ‘Detective Inspector Mann; you’ll probably come across her in court one day. She has a formidable arrest record.’
‘I’ll look out for her.’ She handed me a coffee, then frowned. ‘I’ve just had a funny phone call myself,’ she said. ‘It was from a woman called Mackail; she said that she was calling on Sauce Haddock’s recommendation. Her story is that she’s in a situation and that she should really have a lawyer on her side. She should too; she’s up against a guy called Oliver Harrison, a very nasty piece of work with a whole string of Law Society reprimands to his name. I told her that normally I only handle criminal cases these days, but she sounded really anxious, so I said I’d think about it. Does the name mean anything to you?’ she asked.
‘No, nothing at all. I haven’t heard from Sauce or Sammy since Monday.’
‘What’s the matter, Pops?’ she asked, out of the blue.
‘Nothing,’ I insisted. ‘What makes you think there is?’
‘Thirty years’ experience,’ she laughed. ‘You’re fidgety. Did you expect the guys to report back to you every step of the way? If so, that’s not how . . .’
‘I know, I know,’ I sighed. ‘It’s not how it works any more. That has nothing to do with it. If you must know I’ve had a couple of up and downers with Andy, over the thing I’ve taken on for Eden Higgins. It’s . . . grown legs, you might say. I’ve identified a prime suspect. The problem is, someone else identified him before I did.’
She pursed her lips. ‘Wow. Is that what the call from the DI was about?’
‘Yes. I landed her in the shit with her big boss. That’s what our most recent barney was about,’ I confessed.
‘Father,’ she said heavily, ‘has this fallout anything to do with Andy and me?’
‘Of course it has!’ I retorted. ‘I told him he’s made me his enemy for life.’?‘Then you’re overreacting,’ she countered. ‘I chucked him, not the other way round.’
‘Because of his wholly unacceptable behaviour,’ I insisted. ‘He put you in that situation.’
She looked at me and then she smiled, in the way she does that melts my heart. ‘There’s no reasoning with you, is there?’
‘No,’ I agreed, cheerfully, ‘not where you’re concerned. Thanks for the coffee; now bugger off and free a couple of victims of police oppression . . . or get stuck into the man Harrison, whatever gives you the most fun.’
She nodded. ‘Will do, but there’s something else too, underneath the angst with Andy. You’re not quite as angry as you insist. Something’s pulling you in the other direction.’
‘As always,’ I said, ‘you’re right. Sarah’s pregnant.’ There can be no secrets between Alex and me. ‘But not a word about it, and beam with astonishment when she tells you.’
My news achieved the near-impossible. It silenced her for at least half a minute. When she had finished hugging me, and telling me that at our age we should have figured out what caused the condition, finally she went back to work.
So did I, for the benefit of InterMedia, answering a question from the crime editor on the Girona daily. He was concerned about potential obstruction of one of his reporters by the Mossos D’Esquadra, the Catalan police force. I looked at his story, reckoned that he was absolutely right, and made a phone call to an acquaintance of mine who happens to be its director general. Xavi’s company pays me well for my experience and my contacts, but like David Ginola with that shampoo, I like to think I’m worth it.
I had just sent off my email telling the editor that his problem was solved, when my phone sent me off in another direction.
‘Can we meet?’ Carrie McDaniels asked. ‘I can’t think of an excuse to screw any more money out of you, so I’d better report on what I’ve done.’
‘Fine,’ I told her, ‘but you come to me. My car’s parked and I’m not moving it.’
I gave her directions to the Fountainbridge office, then told the front desk to send her up when she arrived. Like all newspapers, the Saltire is pretty choosy about who it lets into its building.
She was with me inside fifteen minutes: I reckoned there would be a taxi on the expense account when she sent me her invoice. She looked pleased with herself, with an added sparkle in her eye that made me wonder if she and the boyfriend had patched things up.
‘What have you got for me?’ I asked, when she was settled into the chair that Alex had vacated an hour before.
‘A bonus,’ she began. ‘Remember that hotel robbery I mentioned?’
‘Rachel Higgins’ jewels? Of course.’
‘There’s one thing you don’t know about me. I still work for the insurance company; it’s my biggest client. That’s how I was able to set up on my own. As such I still have access to the stuff I’ve worked on. I thought you might like a copy of the report on the Higgins case, so I pulled it.’ She handed me a small black memory stick. ‘It’s on there.’ She smiled, adding, ‘It’s a freebie, by the way.’
‘Thanks very much,’ I said, pocketing it. ‘Now, to the main business in hand. What have you got for me?’
‘As much as there is,’ she replied, ‘which isn’t a hell of a lot, to be honest. I hope you weren’t expecting me to close your case for you. All I can tell you is that your client keeps very good company indeed. As a general rule, you have to be the brightest and best to get on his guest lists. You couldn’t give me an introduction, could you?’
‘If you’ve got undisclosed marine engineering skills,’ I said, ‘there might be a chance, otherwise, I don’t think so.’
She stared at me for a moment, puzzled, then shrugged and pulled a folder from her case. ‘Your client is a very popular man,’ she began. ‘He has a track record of making money for people, even if he does make even more for himself in the process.’
She took a single sheet from her folder. ‘Before I begin I have to tell you that my report’s incomplete, because I had no access to some of the people on your list, for example those who had no obvious business connection to Mr Higgins, like the footballers and rock stars, and the catering staff. All that I’ve been able to do is focus on those where there is a connection, through his business.’
‘Fair enough,’ I agreed. ‘Cut to the chase.’
‘This is it. Higgins Holdings is a family investment trust, owned by Eden and his wife, Rachel. One son, Rory, a chartered accountant who has floating oversight of all the companies.’
‘That’s history to me, Carrie,’ I grumbled. ‘I’ve known them as a family for twenty years. Concentrate on the business side.’