'Have them pick him up, tomorrow morning, over breakfast. Then you and McGuire chew him around good and proper. Lean on him, pressure him for the name of the person who gave him my unlisted number. Let him think we're after him for bribery; don't tell him about the kidnapper's cal.
'I want to spring that on him myself. After an hour or two, I'l come in and play my tape. I can't wait to see the look on his face when I ask him to convince us that he isn't in cahoots with a kil er.'
Martin nodded. 'Okay, save for one thing. I don't think it would be wise – or even proper – for you to take part in any interview with Salmon. You've got a personal involvement with him and a very public grudge against him. I'l play your tape to him, don't worry about that.'
The big DCC grunted. 'Yes, I suppose you're right. It's a pity though. I really want to see that wee sod piss his pants.'
16
The building in which Salmon's flat was located was a dingy affair, in a part of Leith which seemed to have escaped the process of yuppification by which much of the old port has been transformed.
The door to the street was unsecured and the wide, dusty stairway smelled strongly of urine.
'Jesus Christ, Mario,' muttered Mcllhenney. 'Places like this make a case for more public lavvies.'
Mario McGuire shook his dark Latin head. 'People who pish up closes wil always pish up closes, you know that.' He paused, and grinned. 'What happened to the "sir" by the way?'
'Fuck off, Inspector. That's for when there are people around. Don't let this SB stuff go to your heid. I suppose you cal your wife "ma'am" al the time, eh?'
'What else would I call a senior officer? You know DCI Rose: she's a stickler for formality. "Excuse me, ma'am, would you please pass the marmalade." That's normal across our breakfast table. Or
"Excuse me, ma'am, is there any chance of a shag?" That's for after dinner.'
The big sergeant chuckled. 'It's lucky you're not in Admin, then, or you'd have to fill out a requisition.'
'Aye,' said McGuire, laughing himself. 'Another fuckin' chitty!'
'Married life's agreeing with you, then?' said Mcllhenney, as they climbed the dirty stairs, away from the rankness of the street level.
'To my slight surprise, it is. I'l tel you, as an old pal, I was a wee bit scared when we tied the knot. The Italian side of my lineage isn't big on divorce. I needn't have worried though. Mags is one in a million.
'We're a couple of lucky bastards, you and I, Neil. All those fish in the sea yet I land her, and you land Olive; exceptional women both of them.'
The Sergeant nodded thoughtful y. 'It's true what you say; about my Olive too,' he said at last. 'Exceptional. Out of every million fish or so, you can expect to find a Great White Shark.'
'Aw come on, Neil,' McGuire protested. 'You can kid the rest of them, but not me. I remember those Sunday lunches Olive used to cook for me when I was young, free and single. And I 55 remember she had you eating them out of her hand.'
Mcl henney shrugged his shoulders and smiled, sheepishly. 'Fair enough,' he chuckled, 'but don't tell anyone else, okay. I've got her image to protect, ken.'
In the seconds of silence which fol owed, as they climbed past the second floor, scanning the nameplate on each door, his smile faded.
'It's a shame about the Big Man though, Mario, isn't it?' he said at last.
'Depends what you mean,' replied McGuire. 'I know a few guys would give their back teeth to be banging Pam Masters. It's a shame about them being al over the papers though…
'As this guy Salmon's going to find out,' he added, grimly.
'No,' countered the Sergeant. 'I mean it's a shame about him and Sarah. I thought that pair were set for life. I just can't imagine what happened to split them up.'
'Him bangin' Pam Masters could have had just a wee bit to do with it!'
'Maybe now it could, but I'm pretty certain that didn't start til after they separated. There was some other reason for him moving out when he did. Don't know what it was, though.'
McGuire drew a deep breath as they reached the fourth, and top, floor of the tenement building. 'Did you know about him and Masters?' he asked at last.
'I suspected. Being his PA and al, I picked up the odd hint.'
'What's she like? I don't real y know her.'
Mcl heney shrugged again. 'Pam? She's okay. She's bright, although I wouldn't put her in Maggie's league. She's efficient too. I know that, having taken over from her. It's just… Och, she's no Sarah, that's al.' He glanced at his col eague. 'What does Maggie think other? She worked for her for a while, didn't she?'
McGuire nodded. 'She hasn't said much. I just get the impression that she doesn't think she's a real copper – know what I mean? Mags isn't too struck on late entrants to the force.
She definitely doesn't approve other and the boss, though. I can tell you that. When she saw the paper this morning, she'd a face like thunder.'
The sergeant winced. 'A few folk'l think that way, I fear. Tell you what I think, Mario. It's the first wrong move I've ever known Big Bob make.'
He glanced across the landing, lit by a glass cupola above, to a mauve-painted door. 'There,' he said, pointing. 'Salmon. That's the boy's flat.' He looked at McGuire once again. 'Quiet or noisy?' he asked.
The black-haired policeman grinned, wickedly. 'What do you think? Let's give the neighbours something to talk about!'
He stepped up to the door and pounded on its wooden panel with the side of his heavy fist. 'Police,' he roared. 'Open up!'
Mcllhenney leaned against the door listening. 'He's switched the tranny off.' The two policemen stood, waiting.
After almost a minute, the Inspector thumped the door again.
'Come on! Open up or we'l kick it in.'
The Sergeant pressed his ear to the panel once more. 'He's coming,' he said, suddenly leaning back.
They heard the rattle of a security chain being slipped, then a key turned in the lock, and the mauve door swung open.
'What d'youse…' The words died in the woman's throat as she stared at Mcl henney, in recognition. She was tall and blonde, in her mid-thirties. Her face was not unattractive, but bony, and the lines around the eyes had been carved not by laughter but by life. Her hair was dishevelled, and her make-up only a memory of the night before.
As she looked at Mcllhenney, her right hand rose involuntarily, clutching the long teeshirt which she wore and pul ing it up, in the process, to the edge of immodesty.
'Oh, no,' she said, in a resigned tone. 'No' you again.'
'Well, well, well,' said the Sergeant. 'If it isn't Joanne Virtue, lady of the night. The Big Easy herself. And what, my good woman, would you be doing here?'
The blonde struggled to recover her composure. Belligerence flickered in her eyes. 'Ah live here,' she said, with an attempt at boldness.
'Like fuck you do, Joanne,' said Mcllhenney, patiently. 'You live down by the waterfront, as you and I both know. Now go and tell Mr Salmon that – like you – the polis await his pleasure.'
'Who's Mr Salmon?'
'Your punter,' said McGuire.
'Aw. Is that his name? He just felt me it was Noel.'
Mcllhenney's patience, a scarce and fragile commodity at the best of times, ran out. 'Bugger this for a game of soldiers,' he said, marching past the prostitute and into the flat.
'Salmon! Where are you?' he bellowed, throwing open the nearest door, to the right off the hal way. He looked quickly into an untidy, stale-smelling bedroom. A black dress, bra and tights were thrown over a chair and men's clothing lay strewn across the floor, but the room was empty.
The big detective looked over his shoulder at Joanne Virtue. She shrugged her shoulders and pointed, briefly, at a door on the other side of the hal. Mcl henney nodded, and with a grim smile, stepped across and threw it open.