‘Thanks for your confidence, Bob. I have to admit that, right now, I’m struggling to share it.’
‘Trust me.’
‘I do, as it happens, but I’m under no illusions. I’m wildly inexperienced for the job. .’
‘It’s still a new legislature,’ Skinner pointed out. ‘You can say that about every one of your colleagues.’
‘Fine, but this is me I’m talking about, my insecurity. I’m responsible for the administration of the courts, for the prison service, the probation service, the fire service and the police. I’m going to need help and advice.’
‘You’ve got a small army of civil servants to help and advise you.’
There was a pause. ‘Exactly.’ They both laughed. ‘It’s okay,’ she said. ‘I told Lena not to listen in. It’s part of the private secretary’s routine, you know; hold the mute button and listen in on the minister’s calls.’
‘I know. But in the main, you can trust your civil service. Some of them might be a bit self-important, but they’re conscientious. . and they are experienced.’
‘I appreciate that, but I’m not going to accept everything they say and recommend. I want to have other input available when I need it. I’d like to have a private group of advisers, in each of the areas I’m responsible for, and I was wondering. . Can I count on you? Can I use you as a sounding board when I need one? You’re your own man, the last person to tell me what you think I want to hear.’
‘What makes you so sure of that?’
‘You fell out with the Secretary of State, when you were his official adviser; everybody knows that. More recently, though, you told Crichton Griffiths to piss off when he offered you command of the Scottish Drug Enforcement Agency.’
Skinner chuckled. ‘That wasn’t quite what I said.’
‘That’s a fair summary of how he described your conversation to me.’
‘It’s true that we discussed the job. I told him that I had reservations about a national body that’s focused on a single issue. If we’re talking about fighting serious crime in general, that would be another matter, but Crichton didn’t see it that way, or rather his boss didn’t. As usual, he let the Scottish media set his agenda, so we got the SDEA. At that point your predecessor did try to lean on me to take the job; he suggested that it might be my only shot at chief constable rank. I didn’t tell him to piss off, though; I told him to tell Tommy Murtagh to shove it up his arse, and not even to dream about threatening me again.’
‘I doubt very much if he passed that on.’
‘I doubt it too,’ he laughed, ‘but it might make you consider, Aileen, whether you really want me as an adviser, informal or not.’
‘It makes me dead certain that I do. Consider it, please.’
‘I don’t need to. I’ll do it. If you’re going to be a listening minister, I’d be bloody stupid to pass up the chance to tell you what I think.’
She gave a small sound of pleasure. ‘Thanks, Bob, thanks very much.’
‘Don’t mention it. So what do you want to pick my brains about first?’
‘How about the SDEA? What should I do about that?’
‘You don’t have any choice. You have to give it your full backing. My view on that is irrelevant; your administration set it up and gave it a job to do. There are dozens of good officers out there now, working hard at it, and I will never do or say anything, in public or in private, to undermine them. My argument with Murtagh was strategic. I do not subscribe to the view that all serious crime in Scotland goes back to the drugs trade, simple as that.’
‘We’ll have a longer discussion about that,’ said de Marco, ‘and soon. Before I go though; you’ve got contacts, could you help me build up my advisory network?’
‘I’ll think about it, but I can give you a couple of names right now: Mitchell Laidlaw and Lenny Plenderleith.’
‘I’ve heard of Laidlaw,’ the minister murmured, ‘but not Lenny Plenderleith. Should I?’
‘As of today you should have. You’ve got him locked up for murder. Lenny was a gangster, and I put him away, but he’s a very bright guy, and in a strange way he and I have become friends. His motivation has changed, and so has his outlook on life. He knows more about the prison service than most of the guys who run it. If you really want to understand what happens inside, he’s the guy to put you right.’
‘I’ll read his file. Let’s meet, Bob, privately; the evening would be best.’
Skinner hesitated. ‘I can’t do it before Monday,’ he said cautiously.
‘That suits me. We’ll confirm arrangements later. I have to make some more calls now.’
He laughed. ‘Not least to your brother. You can tell him he’s back on the platform at Murrayfield.’
25
‘What did you think of that?’ Rose and Steele had driven away in silence from Lothian Road; neither had spoken until they were through Tollcross, when the inspector could contain himself no longer.
‘Just be thankful you don’t have anyone like Aurelia in your team,’ the superintendent replied. ‘We get that type in the police from time to time, but they don’t usually get rewarded for it. She will, though; maybe not right away, but in a few weeks, when Whetstone’s death has faded into the background, poor wee Vernon will get the early retirement package and Ms Middlemass will move into his office. And if the chief executive of SFB has any bloody sense, he’ll watch his back from that moment on.’
‘I wonder what Mr Middlemass is like.’
‘I don’t think he is Mr Middlemass. I did some checking up on the key players at SFB in advance of the meeting. They’re listed in the last Insider magazine banking survey. It said that she’s married to a Spanish academic, who’s on the staff of Heriot-Watt University. Maybe she’s a pussycat at home, though, Stevie. A lot of people change personalities when they step through the office door.’
‘As long as she, or anyone like her, never steps through mine.’ He paused as a thought struck him. ‘Mary Chambers isn’t like her, is she?’
Rose laughed. ‘A greater contrast you could not find.’
She drove on, in silence once more, until once again they reached the Whetstone house at the Grange. This time, Steele had phoned ahead to announce their visit, although he had not said what they wanted to discuss.
The door was opened by a woman they had never met; she was middle-aged, she wore black, and her puffy eyes showed signs of recent crying. ‘You must be the police,’ she decided, before Rose had a chance to speak. ‘I’m Aisling Reynolds, Ivor’s sister. Virginia told me she was expecting you. She’s upstairs, resting; she’s had precious little sleep, poor thing. If you’d like to wait in the drawing room, I’ll tell her you’re here.’
Blue, the Siberian husky, was in his usual place in front of the fire as they went into the bay-windowed room. Steele walked round the couch and knelt beside him, ruffling his thick fur. ‘How’re you doing, boy?’
‘Missing his dad, I’m afraid,’ said a voice from the door. Virginia Whetstone seemed to have shrunk in twenty-four hours, but as she moved into the room they saw that she was wearing sheepskin moccasins, with virtually no heel. She was dressed in black jeans and a crew-necked sweater, and her hair was tied back in a pony-tail. Like her sister-in-law, her grief showed around her eyes. ‘I took him for a walk this morning, though; or rather, he took me. Did Aisling offer you tea?’ she asked.
‘No,’ Rose answered, ‘but we’re fine, thanks.’
The widow nodded, and sat in the chair beside the dog. The superintendent took a seat close to her on the couch, and Steele joined her.
‘How are your investigations proceeding?’ Mrs Whetstone’s voice seemed stronger as she turned to business.
‘We have reached a conclusion,’ Maggie Rose told her. ‘We’re going to report to the procurator fiscal that your husband probably took his own life. There was a slight doubt cast on that by the post mortem, but on balance that’s how it looks.’