‘I see.’ Cowan’s face took on a troubled look. He thought in silence for a few moments. ‘No. There’s been no one, no deaths. Not since Rachel, and not for more than a year before Mike. And I would know. As Clerk, I have to arrange wreaths, letters of condolence, that sort of thing. We’re a relatively small club, and so deaths of practising members are not exactly common. The last one before Mike was two years ago, one of our most senior seniors, and he died of cancer.’
‘That’s something to be going on with. How about associates? Were Mike and Rachel part of any group?’
‘Not that I’ve ever heard of. We have some special interest groups in the Faculty, but neither Mike nor Rachel belonged to any of them.
‘Apart from the Chinese business, I don’t recall them ever appearing together professionally. Everyone knew they had the hots for each other, but they kept their private lives well out of the Library, as we all do.’
‘What about instructing solicitors? Could there be a link there?’
‘I don’t see it. They both had largely criminal practices. As you know, that means that most of their work would come from the West of Scotland. I can’t recall any of the Glasgow solicitor mafia having come to a sticky end in the time-scale we’re considering.’
Cowan walked over to a drinks table beside the door. He picked up a decanter and a glass, and looked at Skinner, raising his eyebrows.
‘No thanks, Peter,’ he replied to the unspoken offer. ‘It’s a bit early. Anyway, I’ll need to get home to break the good news to Sarah that I’m going to London first thing tomorrow.’
‘To do with this?’
‘Yes. I’m off for another chat with the Ambassador. There’s one other thing I’d like from the Faculty. Can I have your cooperation in a very discreet check on Mortimer and Jameson? I want to go through their lives with a toothcomb, from university on. For example, I want to find out if they knew each other then.’
‘I can tell you that. They didn’t. Mike was Glasgow, Rachel was Edinburgh. They worked in different cities until they came to the Bar. As a matter of fact I introduced them, and they were definitely meeting for the first time.’
Cowan put the decanter back on the table, unbroached, and turned back to face Skinner.
‘Bob, I’ll give your people every facility. I’ll find somewhere private for them to work. But we’ll need a cover story. Our place is a rumour factory. Who’s going to be in charge of your team?’
‘Andy Martin’s putting a squad together. There’ll be one or two on the premises, but I’ll make sure that they’re not known to any of your people, and if possible — though this will be more difficult — that they don’t look like polis!’
‘You can pretend they’re auditors. No one ever goes near them!’
Cowan chuckled. ‘When do you want to start? Monday OK? I say that because I’ll need to brief my secretary to sort out all of Mike and Rachel’s papers without attracting attention. What about the rest of their things? Personal stuff.’
‘I’ll need to talk to next of kin about that. With a bit of luck it’ll all still be in their flats, or in the hands of executors.’
Cowan looked at him. ‘That’s if they left wills. They were both young, and lawyers are as bad as any professionals at following their own advice!’
47
Leaving Gullane at 6.05 a.m., and using the Edinburgh by-pass, Skinner arrived at the airport with twenty minutes to spare. He bought a ticket and boarded the half-empty flight. The 757 took off on time, and landed without the almost obligatory wait in the Heathrow stack.
The tube was quieter than usual, free on a Saturday of the hordes of office workers. He read the Weekend section of his Scotsman, and passed the journey in relative comfort.
He left the tube at Green Park and walked towards Piccadilly Circus until he found the Embassy, entered, and announced himself. The young Japanese receptionist checked a sheet of crested paper on his desk, and rose from his seat. ‘Please follow me, sir.’
He led Skinner up a flight of stairs and along a thickly-carpeted hallway, at the end of which double doors opened into Shi-Bachi’s outer office. ‘Please be seated,’ the young man invited, indicating a high-backed chair.
The receptionist whispered to a middle-aged man who sat in a red leather chair behind a dark wood desk. The man looked up from his papers and replied in Japanese. The youth withdrew, and the aide turned to Skinner. ‘Good morning, sir. I will see if the Ambassador is free.’
He picked up one of three telephones on his desk, pressed a button, and spoke. In the flow of Japanese, Skinner recognised his own name. The man replaced the phone. ‘The Ambassador will see you at once,’ he said, indicating by his tone that the speed of the audience was something of an honour.
He escorted Skinner through a second set of double doors into a long room. The wall facing the door, was almost completely window, shrouded by heavy blast curtains in white net. The Ambassador’s vast desk was set to the left, away from the windows. A portrait of the Emperor hung behind the swivel chair, with another of his late father above the fireplace opposite.
Shi-Bachi rose and walked towards Skinner, extending his hand in Western-style greeting. ‘Good morning, Assistant Chief Constable. I am glad to see you again.’
Skinner bowed briefly and shook the extended hand. ‘And I to see you, sir.’
They settled into two soft armchairs. The man from the outer office reappeared with a tray, on which were set a silver tea-pot, two china cups, a small jug of milk, and to Skinner’s private amusement, a large plate of chocolate digestive biscuits.
Shi-Bachi pointed to the plate and laughed. ‘Some things are commo to both our cultures!’ The Ambassador’s aide looked puzzled as he poured.
Each sipped his tea in silence for a moment. At last Shi-Bachi spoke. ‘So, Mr Skinner,’ he asked softly, ‘what is it that you wish to tell me about Yobatu san?’
‘I have something to tell and something to ask, Your Excellency. New evidence has been discovered. We now know that the person who killed Mortimer looked inside his document case after the murder. And it appears that Miss Jameson’s business case was stolen at the time of her death.
‘The motive for the killings of the Chinese and the two advocates was a very strong part of the case against Yobatu san. What possible reason could he have had, once he had killed, for stealing the papers of his victims? And the second theft, from the platform, after Miss Jameson had been pushed under the train, was incredibly risky.
‘No, Your Excellency, if theft was the real motive for the killings, and it now appears that it may have been, then the circumstantial case against Yobatu san is destroyed.’
Shi-Bachi held up his hand. ‘But there was certain, er, physical evidence, was there not?’
‘Which could have been planted for us to find. If that was done by someone who knew, or could guess that we were about to search, it would have been easy to time it so that there was little risk of Yobatu finding the evidence before we did. What better way of concealing a motive for murder and the identity of a killer than by framing an unstable man with a strong reason to kill, and one who, as an added bonus, could not be tried, only removed from the country?’
‘But I would have seen to it that he stood trial.’
‘Remember Allingham and Wilson. They were there to see to it that he did not.’