‘No.’ Vernon Easterson shook his head. ‘He broke a strict banking rule in this transaction, by not obtaining personal guarantees.’
‘Then maybe he was a partner in the fraud?’
‘The problem I have with that, Inspector, is that Ivor has owned the Edinburgh house for years, since his first stint in the city, before he moved into the bank house in Kelso. His remaining mortgage on it is minimal. He and Virginia planned to sell it on retirement and move to Kelso; it’s worth a good deal more than the third of a million you’re suggesting he might have been in this for.’
‘Point taken.’ Steele turned to Rose. ‘So what do we tell the f iscal?’
The superintendent shrugged her shoulders. ‘On balance I think we suggest suicide and let him decide.’
‘He might want to know whether Mrs Whetstone was involved.’
‘There’s no indication of that on the file,’ Middlemass volunteered. ‘My contact in the Isle of Man said that the application form was downloaded from the Internet, and that he never met the applicant. But he did fax me the signature on the form. It’s a pretty good match for the scribbles on the loan application.’
‘You have been thorough,’ the superintendent murmured.
The woman shot a glance, full of meaning, at her colleague. ‘It’s as well someone was,’ she murmured.
Rose looked at him. ‘Did you have any luck with the equipment inventory I asked you about?’
Easterson shook his head dolefully. ‘We don’t possess an item like the one you describe. We use contract cleaners, and they might, but when I asked them they said they lose equipment all the time, and that they’ve more or less given up keeping track of it. So I’m afraid that I can’t help you trace a pair of aluminium steps.’
The detective sighed. ‘Don’t worry about it. We know that they exist and that they were used. But frankly, finding them has become less important. What we’ve been told here shifts the perspective of this investigation. . indeed it may open a new one altogether. If you’re making a formal report of a theft, I’ll need to open a formal investigation. In any event the information you’ve given me will need to be put in front of the procurator fiscal, since it may be material to the circumstances of Whetstone’s death.’ Rose turned to Middlemass. ‘I’ll need copies of all the papers in that folder for our report to the fiscal.’
‘I anticipated that,’ she replied. ‘This file is for you.’ She slid it across the table, and the superintendent picked it up.
‘Come on, Inspector,’ she said to Steele. ‘That’s us done here for now. Looks as if we have another unpleasant call to pay on Mrs Whetstone.’
24
Skinner sat behind his desk, looking out of the window. He could have had another office, adjoining that of the chief, one that was slightly larger and which enjoyed year-round sunshine, but he had chosen to stay in his first room in the command corridor. It was cooler in the summer and, the clinching fact in its favour, it allowed him to look down the roadway that led up to the main entrance to the headquarters building, and to keep a watchful eye on the comings and goings.
He had been surprised a few hours earlier, just over an hour past midday, to see Sarah drive up the slope and park in one of the visitor spaces. He had been on the point of going along for lunch and had invited her to join him, but she had declined. So he had asked for a salad to be sent along from the dining room, and she had watched him eat.
At first he thought it might have been a business call, but she had assured him that it was purely social, following on from a food shop, before she went home to write her report on the morning’s autopsy. She had been in a funny mood, but then, he had to admit to himself, so had he: he had felt a distraction, the reason for which he still found it hard to pin down.
He had kissed her goodbye as she left, but there had been a distance between them, one that he knew needed to be closed. On impulse he picked up the phone and dialled Sarah’s private line in her office at home. ‘What is it?’ she asked him irritably. ‘I’m busy.’
‘Me too, but I’ve got time for this. I thought I’d take tomorrow afternoon off, and you and I could get in the car and go up to Gleneagles Hotel for the night: no kids, just us. We’ll stay till about noon, then get back in time for dinner with the American at the club. How about it?’
She felt a shiver of crazy anxiety. Had she been spotted following Stevie to his place? Had someone told Bob? She discarded the notion in a second: she knew nobody brave enough to tell him. ‘What’s pricked your conscience?’ she asked him.
‘Nothing,’ he told her truthfully. ‘It’s just something I think we need to do.’
‘Maybe we do at that,’ she conceded, after a few seconds’ thought. ‘Okay. Will you book it?’
‘Sure. See you later. Maybe we can manage to finish dinner tonight.’
She laughed and hung up. Bob cradled the phone for a second, then buzzed through to Ruth Pye, his secretary. ‘Do me a bit of extra-curricular, please?’ he asked her. ‘I’d like you to book me a suite for tomorrow night, dinner, bed and breakfast, at Gleneagles.’
‘I take it Sarah’s going too.’ There was a laugh in her voice: he had told her earlier that her husband was being transferred back to Edinburgh from the Borders, and she was still basking in the news.
‘What?’ he grunted. ‘Yes, of course. If I was taking anyone else I’d book it myself, Ruthie, don’t you worry.’
‘I hope you’d choose somewhere a bit more discreet than Gleneagles, in that case.’
‘Discretion’s never been my strongest card.’
‘I’m saying nothing. By the way, you had a phone call just now, while you were engaged; a Ms McElhone, from the Scottish Executive Justice Department. She wouldn’t leave a message, but she asked if you’d call her back as soon as you can. Will I do that first?’
‘Yes, please. Get her for me, then call Gleneagles.’
He hung up, waited till the phone sounded again and picked it up on the first ring. ‘Mr Skinner?’ Like every ministerial private secretary he had ever heard, Lena McElhone sounded very young, very keen and very confident. ‘Ms de Marco would like to speak to you. If you hold on I’ll put you through to her.’
He felt himself smile as he waited, wondering whether the minister’s brother had been so upset at being chucked off the Pope’s platform that he had asked her to use some muscle. If that was the case, the ball would be passed to Jim Gainer, double quick.
‘Bob?’ Even in the way she said his name, there was something different about her voice; an excitement that he had not noticed before. ‘I have some news for you. It’s going to be breaking soon, within the next hour in fact, and you’re one of the people I wanted to tell in advance. My boss, Crichton Griffiths, the Justice Minister, has resigned. He’s been diagnosed with a form of leukaemia, and begins chemotherapy this week. The First Minister has asked me to take his place.’
Skinner took a second or two to let the news sink in. He knew Crichton Griffiths professionally, and had always found him polite and courteous. However, he had also regarded him as Tommy Murtagh’s lackey, a bit too much his master’s voice rather than his own man. ‘Congratulations, Aileen,’ he said. ‘It’s a big job you’re taking on, but you’re up to it. The Association of Chief Police Officers will welcome your appointment; I can assure you of that.’
‘It’s nice of you to say so. Crichton’s always described them as a forbidding, argumentative lot, so I’m a bit apprehensive about facing them.’
‘Hey, I’m one, remember, and I do my best not to be forbidding. I don’t always succeed, I know, but I try. .’ he gave a soft laugh ‘. . unless, of course, I come up against someone I really want to intimidate.’
‘He said that too. You don’t like the First Minister a lot, do you?’
‘He talks too much. The first time I catch him listening I might start to respect him.’
‘I’ll have to bear that in mind.’
‘You’re different, don’t worry. This phone call alone is evidence of that. You’ll be a breath of fresh air at the cabinet table. I’m in no doubt about that.’