‘Sure.’
He grinned after her as she shuffled sleepily off towards the bedroom. Not long before, Neil McIlhenney had asked him to put into words what it was that he and Paula had in their relationship that made it gel. ‘Softness.’ He had said it without even thinking. ‘When we’re together everything in the world seems peaceful. We blend together; each of us knows instinctively what the other’s thinking, or wants, or needs. They say that you have to work at a partnership. We don’t. We make each other content, and it’s effortless. I don’t think I’ve ever smiled as much in my life.’
‘No,’ his friend had conceded. ‘I don’t think you have.’
He thought of that conversation as he listened to his first phone message. It was from McIlhenney, inviting him, Paula and Colin Mawhinney to lunch with him, Louise and the children on the following Sunday. He made a mental note to consult the American before accepting, in case such a family event might be a strain for him.
The second message was from a caller who identified himself as Ainsley, breaking the wonderful news that he had won a voucher for two thousand pounds towards the cost of a luxury fitted kitchen, and inviting him to call and confirm his prize. He pushed a button and deleted it.
The third voice was that of Jack McGurk. ‘I’d be grateful, Superintendent McGuire, if you could call me as soon as you get this message. The DCC wants to see you in his office at Fettes at the first opportunity.’
Mario sighed. He could always creep quietly off to bed and pretend that he had not checked his answering system until later, but that was not the way things worked with Bob Skinner. He called McGurk’s direct line number.
‘Jack,’ he growled, ‘I’m warning you, you’re speaking to a jet-lagged bear.’
‘It won’t take long, sir, honest. The boss wouldn’t ask without a good reason. He’s in all morning or he can see you at four thirty, if you’d rather.’
‘Let’s get it over with. We’ve just been dropped off by a Traffic car. Turn it around if you can and have it pick me up; I’ll be waiting at my front door. But warn him, he’s getting me unshaved and honking, and not at my most attentive.’
‘You will be, sir,’ said McGurk, quizzically.
Intrigued, he hung up, and went through to break the bad news to Paula. She was asleep and looked as if she would be so for a while. Still, to be on the safe side, he wrote her a note, left it on her bedside table, and headed downstairs, feeling a growing interest in whatever it was the Big Man might be wanting.
21
She followed Steele’s car from the new Royal Infirmary complex, which had been built in an outlying part of Edinburgh known as Little France since the sixteenth century, when the servants and courtiers who accompanied Mary, Queen of Scots, on her return from Versailles had set up residence there.
It was a short trip, down to Cameron Toll, then negotiating three roundabouts to turn into Gordon Terrace, where she parked behind him in front of a solid red sandstone house.
‘I have a piece of that,’ he told her, nodding towards it.
‘Very impressive,’ she exclaimed, meaning it.
‘I bought it when I made sergeant, when interest rates were higher than they are now, but before Edinburgh property prices went crazy. No way could I afford it now, even on a DI’s pay.’ He led the way up a narrow path to a door in the side of the building; he unlocked it and they climbed a curving flight of stairs into a spacious hall.
‘It’s a sort of duplex, really, not a flat. I have a couple of bedrooms upstairs, and here there’s a living room, small bedroom, bathroom, and this.’ He opened a door and showed her into a vast dining-kitchen, with a five-burner gas hob and double oven, a big oak table in one corner and a seating area in another. ‘I live here, basically,’ he told her. ‘The living room’s my playroom, more or less, with my music and my main television. Take a look round if you like while I whip up the grub. Scrambled eggs, toast and coffee, okay?’
‘Perfect.’
She took him at his word and left him to cook. She went from room to room, admiring the old house more and more as she did so. The ceilings were high, with cornices and plaster centrepieces that were undoubtedly original. The bathroom fittings looked original too, including a high chain-pull cistern above the toilet, but they had all been replumbed. Steele’s playroom was exactly as he had described it, with a Bose home-entertainment system, a big Toshiba television set, a computer on a table in the corner and a soft, three-seater settee in the centre. She climbed the stairs, feeling the mahogany banister smooth under her hand.
The attic ceilings were lower than below, but the bedrooms were as immaculate as the rest of the house. The larger of the two had an en suite shower room.
‘This is beautiful, Steven,’ she said, as she stepped back into the kitchen, ‘and so well decorated. It must cost a bit to maintain.’
‘I do my own,’ he replied. ‘I’m not saying I’m a DIY freak, though. I have an older brother who’s a painter to trade, and he gives me a hand with some of the more difficult parts, the plasterwork and such. Come on, it’s ready.’
He showed her to the dining-table, which was set out with two plates piled high with scrambled eggs, a basket of toast and two mugs of black coffee. Thank God he’s got a weakness, she thought. No napkins.
‘Sugar and milk?’ he asked, as she took her place.
‘No thanks. I’ll take it as it comes.’
The coffee was hot and strong; it was percolated and had a Colombian flavour. The taste stayed with her as she spread butter on a slice of toast.
‘You’re a strange guy for a cop, Steven,’ she said quietly, as she picked up her fork.
He looked back at her, just a little warily. ‘In what way?’ he asked her, as they ate.
‘You’re atypical. Most of the policemen I’ve met, and come to think of it, most of the policewomen too, have an air about them. It’s as if they have something to prove. I don’t get that feeling from you. You seem. .’
‘Too sure of myself by half?’ he suggested, with a smile.
‘No, I didn’t mean that at all. I was going to say that I sense confidence within you, in your own ability, a sort of self-awareness. I can only think of two other people I know who give me the same feeling.’
‘Who’s the other one?’
‘What do you mean? Aah, you’re assuming that Bob’s one of them. God, you couldn’t be more wrong. I was thinking about Neil McIlhenney and Andy Martin. My husband is one of the most driven men I know. He’s trying to prove something to someone every day of his life, but mostly to himself.’
She ate the rest of her eggs quickly. At first Steele thought she was ravenous, but soon he saw that there was an anxiety behind it. When she was finished, she stood up, abruptly, her mug in her hands. ‘Let’s move over there,’ she said, stepping towards the corner seating.
He followed her, lowering himself on to the cushions beside her. ‘Are you still not any happier?’ he asked her quietly.
‘What do you mean?’ she retorted. Her voice was bold, but as she looked at him he saw that her eyes were defensive.
‘You know damn well what I mean. I’m talking about the last time I had to attend one of your autopsies, a few months ago. We went for a drink afterwards, and we sort of got too close together, and lips brushed. I apologised and you apologised. We both said we’d pretend it never happened, and I’m still sticking to that, even though I still feel slightly mad for bringing you back here now.’
She looked into her mug, and nodded. ‘I remember.’
‘That really would never have happened if there hadn’t been something wrong then, would it?’
‘Maybe not,’ she whispered.
‘The same thing that’s maybe wrong now?’
‘Maybe so.’
‘So what is it? Or should I mind my own business?’
‘It is your business in a way.’ She made a half-turn to face him. ‘That night, I don’t know where it all came from, but you were attentive and kind and you spoke to me softly, as if you sensed then that something was troubling me, and I realised quite suddenly it was. I hadn’t articulated it until then, but part of me felt very lonely and alienated from my husband, and from my marriage. I’m the model mother, Steven, don’t get me wrong, and I’m an attentive wife too, in every respect. And yet. .’ She grasped the mug as if she was trying to break it. ‘You’ve never been married, have you?’