The journey back to the Malmaison took less than fifteen minutes. ‘If we’d gone the straight way we’d never have got back,’ said McGuire, ‘and that would have been bad news. Paula’s cooking tonight and we do not want to keep her waiting.’
‘Man,’ the American exclaimed, ‘we had lunch at Neil’s already. I can’t let you feed me again.’
‘Do you want to tell her that? ’Cause I sure as hell don’t. Besides, what else are you going to do?’
‘That really is too kind of you both,’ said Mawhinney.
‘Mince,’ McGuire replied amiably, as he pulled up outside the waterfront hotel. ‘You get yourself round to my place for six. We’ll walk up to Paula’s and maybe call in at the Wee Black Dug on the way. I want to check that place over.’
39
Old soldiers are the same the world over, Skinner thought, as he looked at the Belgian veteran. Colonel Auguste Malou cut an imposing figure in his civilian clothes; he was a little overweight, but he had a crispness about him, a neatness that the Scot recognized as the mark of the military man.
Nonetheless, he was also extremely distressed; his moustache quivered as he spoke. ‘It was terrible, gentlemen, most terrible,’ he said, in accented English that was as precise as his dress. The shock of his friend’s death was still written all over his face.
The two detectives had not told him the reason for their visit, but his host, Major Alfred Tubbs, another old soldier, turned farmer rather than bandsman, was worldly enough to know that a deputy chief constable and a detective chief superintendent did not turn out in the aftermath of an ordinary sudden death. He hovered in the background as Skinner spoke to Malou.
‘I’m sure it was,’ the DCC replied. ‘As I understand it you found him, that was all.’
‘That’s right. Bart went to the bathroom to shave and freshen up for dinner. . he had a very heavy beard and often shaved twice a day. He didn’t come back quick and I wanted in there, so I went to give him a hurry-up call. He did not answer my call, so I went in and found him on the floor.’
‘He had been brushing his teeth, I understand.’
Malou nodded. ‘Yes. There was paste all around. At first I thought he was having a fit and was foaming at the mouth, but then I took a closer look. I’ve seen dead men before, sir. You can believe that. I’ve seen them blown up, seen them with their throats cut, seen them with bullets through their brains, but their eyes were all the same. When I saw Bart’s eyes, I didn’t need any lady doctor to tell me he was dead.’
Major Tubbs tapped Skinner on the shoulder. ‘What’s this about?’ he asked quietly.
The deputy chief constable saw no need for further delay. Quietly he told both men about the outcome of the autopsy on Lebeau. Malou stared up at him, his ruddy face suddenly devoid of colour. Tubbs gasped. ‘In my house? This happened in my house?’
‘I’m afraid so. Technically it’s subject to confirmation, and I’ve got our toxicologist working on tissue samples right now, but I can’t afford to wait for that. There are all sorts of considerations, and the most pressing is that of public safety.’ He looked at the Belgian. ‘Colonel Malou, do you still have the toothpaste that Monsieur Lebeau used?’
‘Yes,’ he replied. ‘It’s still in the bathroom, and so is his toothbrush.’
‘Thank your lucky stars you didn’t use it yourself,’ Dan Pringle exclaimed.
‘I thank those stars that I have false teeth, sir,’ the bandleader retorted.
‘Do you know, by any chance,’ asked Skinner, ‘where your friend bought the toothpaste he used?’
Malou shook his grey head. ‘I have no idea.’
‘Then we’ll have to look through his effects, to see if we can find a receipt. It’s vital that we identify the source.’ He turned back to Tubbs. ‘Major, we have a forensic team on the way here. I’m afraid there’s going to be a degree of disturbance to your household. You might like to explain to your wife what’s happening. But please, ask her not to talk to anyone about it in the meantime. This has to be kept quiet until we have some answers; I cannot afford to start a public panic.’
40
When he opened the door, he was wearing an apron emblazoned with a naked, voluptuous female form, its breasts cupped in two large hands that appeared to come from behind.
Maggie laughed. ‘Who the hell gave you that?’ she exclaimed.
‘Technically, my three-year-old nephew, last Christmas, but actually it was my sister-in-law.’
‘And you wear it?’
‘Of course I do. . but never outdoors,’ he added, taking her overnight bag from her and following her up the short stairway into his hall. She had been there once before, briefly, when she had called in on him after shopping at the nearby Cameron Toll shopping centre.
‘Nice day at the office?’ he asked her, as she hung her hat on the stand in the corner.
‘Entertaining. I didn’t have anything to do really; Brian was in charge, and it all went fine. But please, let me get out of this uniform.’
Stevie showed the way upstairs, carrying her bag and depositing it on his bed. He leaned over her and kissed her softly. ‘Make yourself at home.’
She grinned, and began to unbutton her jacket. ‘I can do that,’ she murmured. She nodded towards the open door of the en suite. ‘Can I have a shower as well?’
‘You do that too; there’s plenty of towels. I have to get back to the sauce.’
‘Oh, Stevie,’ Maggie called after him as he turned to leave, ‘there is just one thing, I sort of forgot to mention before. I’m not on the pill or anything. I don’t think it’s a high-risk time, but. .’
His smile dazzled her. ‘I thought about that,’ he replied. ‘Worry not.’
She undressed, arranging her uniform on a hanger she found in his wardrobe, then stepped into the bathroom. As the warm jets of the power shower pulsed over her, she found herself wondering whether she had ever felt so relaxed before.
He was stirring a large pot when she came into the big kitchen, concentrating so hard that he did not hear her as she came up behind him, her hair still damp, dressed in a sweatshirt, jeans and moccasins. She slipped her arms round his waist, pressing her unfettered breasts against his back. ‘Can I do anything?’ she asked.
‘You’re doing it,’ he told her. ‘I’m just about finished here; I’ll give it an hour to cook gently then I’ll do some rice. Go on through to the living room and put on some music; I’ll be there in a minute or two.’
When he joined her, there was a CD on the player that, although it was his, he failed to recognise. ‘What’s that?’ he asked, trying to pin down the guitar riff.
‘Blue City: Ry Cooder. He’s one of my heroes, but I’ve never heard of that one.’
He located it in his mental filing cabinet. ‘Ah, yes, that one. It’s an obscure movie soundtrack album from the eighties, very good, only nobody went to the movie.’ He slid down beside her on the couch and handed her a glass of white wine. ‘What did you think of the game, then?’ he asked her.
‘I didn’t watch it; I was being professional, and watching the crowd. I gather the result was as predicted, though.’
‘Yeah,’ he sighed, ‘we’ll never beat those guys.’
‘That’s what Mario always says. I saw him at Murrayfield, by the way; he gave me a blessing and a warning at the same time.’
Stevie’s mouth fell open. ‘You mean you told him?’
‘Of course not. D’you think I walked up to him in my chief super’s uniform and said, “Guess what? Stevie made me come and you never could”? Mind you,’ she mused, ‘I might as well have done. Mario can read me like a book. I’m sure he knew just from looking at me that something of that nature had happened.’
‘What was the warning?’
‘I think he told me not to trust you too much. I sort of told him that he didn’t trust people enough.’