`How did the buyers know where to go then, sir?' asked Superintendent Higgins.
Skinner raised an eyebrow in surprise at the question. `Come on, Alison, these are addicts we're talking about. They've got a bush telegraph that's like no other. Word gets round like lightning. But it's a very tight-knit club, and difficult for us to penetrate. We had an informant for a while, who gave us three or four tips that led to dealer arrests, but she died of an overdose. We suspected at the time — in fact I'm still bloody certain — that her death wasn't an accident. Since then, all we've been able to do is try to read Tony's mind, and keep an eye on some of the places that haven't been used in a while, hoping to catch one of them dirty. That's worked precisely once over the years. My darkest suspicion is that Manson had one of our own people on his payroll. Maybe now he's dead, we'll have a chance of finding out whether I'm right — or, I pray, proving that I'm wrong.'
He paused, to look out of the picture window, contemplatively, for a second or two.
`That's another thing I want done. Interview Manson's lawyer, accountant, bank manager, everyone who was ever involved with him in business. See if any of them know of any
argument he had in the pubs, the laundrettes, the curling club, anywhere. Interview every bugger you can find who ever knew Manson. His hairdresser, the taxi driver who brought him home, the cellar men in his pubs, the whores in his saunas, everyone. Andy, you and your Vice people interview the women. They'll be on first-name terms with most of them. Divisional CID does the rest. Roy, if you need an overtime tab for all this, just let me know what it's likely to run to, and I'll ask the Management Services Director to adjust the budget. It's boring old stuff, as I say, but it's all we have.'
He turned to DS Higgins. 'Alison, you scrutinise all the interview transcripts, and report to Roy daily, in summary. You, Roy, keep me in touch. Anything that you think I should see, get it to me right away. I'll be around until Wednesday, then I'm taking a few days off. I'll still be close by, though.'
He sat forward in his chair and put his hands palm-down on the desk. 'Right, that's almost everything. Maggie, Andy, could you leave us now. Mags, check if the PM report is in yet. If it is, make me an extra copy and get me a full set of photos, scene-of-crime and postmortem.'
Maggie Rose nodded and left the room with Martin. As the door closed behind them, Skinner turned back to Old and Higgins. He looked the woman straight in the eye, suddenly serious. 'I've got a bone to pick with you, Alison. I don't think it's too clever to leave a detective sergeant as acting divisional head of CID. Presumably you knew that Donaldson was on leave, and that Roy was away with a Royal.'
The detective superintendent, reddening, nodded her close-cropped blonde head.
`In that case, you should have known better than to put yourself out of reach at the same time. It's as well that big McGuire is a good operator, and that Andy Martin was available, otherwise you'd have been in the shit. Look, you know me. I try to be even-handed. That means, whether you're a detective constable or detective superintendent, if you screw up, I'll tell you. Now, you're fairly new in rank and in post, and I've got faith in you. I won't chop you for one error of judgement. But for two of the same kind, I will. Make sure that this is part of the learning experience. Okay?'
`Yes, sir.'
Skinner looked across at Old. 'You can consider your arse kicked, too, Roy. As Alison's line commander, when she drops one, it's down to you as well. Make sure that none of your divisional supers make the same mistake.'
He paused, easing the atmosphere with a smile. 'And don't go taking it out on Alison.'
Old, looking relieved, smiled in his turn, and shook his head vigorously.
Skinner stood up, and his two colleagues followed. He led them out into the corridor of the command suite. 'Okay, into battle. Remember, every detail might fit together with another detail, and amount to something. So note every tiny piece of information. Good luck.'
As Old and Higgins disappeared through the swing doors at the end of the corridor, Skinner turned to look for Maggie Rose — to find her standing behind him, comb-bound reports and photographs held in both hands.
`That's Banks's report, is it?'
The red-haired Inspector nodded.
`Did the big man tell you all about his moment of glory last night, then?'
`Oh yes, sir. Every detail, every fingerprint. I'm surprised he hasn't got himself into the photos.'
Skinner smiled. Maggie Rose and Mario McGuire's eighteen-month relationship had just been formalised by an engagement, and by their acquisition of a new flat in Liberton, in the south of the city.
`What he has got himself into is a stretch of overtime. He could be in for a few late nights.'
Maggie's smile brightened. 'Good, that'll take care of the curtains.'
As Skinner turned to go back into his office, she called after him. 'Oh, boss, Sir James's secretary called. He just got in. Can you look in on him.'
Five
The big silver-haired man rushed across the room, hands outstretched when Skinner entered. 'Congratulations, Bob! I couldn't be more pleased for you and Sarah. Both doing very well, I hear. What did he weigh?' He paused. 'Now why do people of my age always ask that?'
Sir James Proud, the Chief Constable, was Skinner's mentor. Their relationship had become even closer over the past eighteen months, until Skinner had come to see Proud Jimmy — as he was popularly known — almost as a father figure.
Skinner laughed. 'Thanks, Jimmy. Eight pounds and twelve ounces, they said. That's one thing that hasn't gone metric yet. Not in the Simpson, at least.'
`So what the Hell are you still doing here? Why aren't you on paternity leave?'
`Things to do, Chief. Getting the Tony Manson show on the road, for one.'
`Yes. That fairly knocked our Royal Visit off the front page. What d'you think, Bob — is it a "gang war"?'
`Buggered if I know. Tony Manson must have had a thousand small-time enemies, but obviously one was serious enough to put a contract out on him. At least that's how it looks. A thoroughly professional job.'
As they sat at his low coffee table, Proud Jimmy pointed to the comb-bound documents which Skinner carried. 'Are those part of it?'
` M mm. Autopsy report and the picture gallery.' `Why the extra set?'
`I'm taking them in to let Sarah have a look.'
The Chief Constable's jaw dropped in a sudden comic gesture. 'You're joking!' He paused for a second, and a smile spread across his face. B ut of course you're not. That's typical Sarah. Off you go to see her, then. Her and wee James Andrew.'
`That's Jazz, Chief.'
‘Eh!'
Skinner smiled and nodded. His name. It suits him down to the ground. You'll get used to it.'
`I'm sure I will,' said the conservative Proud Jimmy. 'Hope he does.
Six
If Sarah felt any reaction to her physical exertion of the previous day, none was on show to the world.
She sat at the window, fully dressed and lightly made up, ready to receive callers. When Bob arrived just after eleven a.m. he found her reading a magazine. J azz was sleeping by her side, in his crib.
`Mornin', Mom,' he said. He bent into the crib and kissed the baby gently on the cheek. As he did, he caught the sweet milky scent of his breath, and felt a totally unexpected thrill. For a second, Bob's eyes moistened once more. When he turned towards Sarah, she was standing facing him. He took her in his arms and kissed her long and lingering.
`Sarah my love, you are an incredibly clever woman, to create someone like that.'
She smiled. 'At another time I'd call you a patronising so-and-so. But right now, as it happens, I agree with you.'
Her foot bumped against his briefcase, and she looked down. 'Have you got them? Good. Now let me try to show you what else I'm good at. Gimme.'.