Maybe with the window open an inch or two, allowing in the noises and scents of the night…
Eight
26
Fox woke up early and went to see his father. There was a bench in the garden of Lauder Lodge, and Mitch fancied sitting there, so Fox got him wrapped up, and one of the staff provided a travel rug for his legs. But Mitch drew the line at a hat and scarf.
‘Any more swaddling and I’ll be fit for a pharaoh’s tomb.’
The garden’s high walls gave protection from the North Sea’s gusts. The gardener looked like he’d be checking in as a guest some time soon. He nodded a greeting, then carried on with his work.
‘I was never one for gardening,’ Mitch told his son.
‘Mum had the green fingers,’ Fox agreed.
‘If I’d had my way, I’d have turned the whole lot into a patio.’
‘Remember that time I was hanging from the clothes-rope? It snapped and I bounced off the nearest flagstone.’
‘Your mum phoned me from the hospital. Three stitches, was it?’
Fox rubbed at the crown of his head. ‘Five,’ he corrected his father.
Mitch smiled. ‘Know what your mum said when she called? She told me she’d have a job getting the blood out.’
Fox remembered: a striped bath towel wrapped around his head to staunch the wound. He hadn’t seen it again afterwards.
Mitch watched as his son tried stifling a yawn. ‘Late night?’
‘A bit.’
‘Business or pleasure?’
‘Take a guess.’
‘Work’s all well and good, Malcolm, but there’s got to be more to life. Still, it explains why I haven’t seen you in a few days.’
‘Jude’s been visiting, though?’
‘Saturday and Sunday – your absence was noted.’
‘I was busy.’
‘Not just avoiding us, then?’
‘No.’ Fox shifted on the bench. ‘We always seem to end up fighting, though.’
‘You and your sister?’ Mitch nodded slowly. ‘I think she’s annoyed that the money for this place is coming out of your pocket.’
‘I don’t begrudge it.’
‘They’ve hiked the fees again, though, haven’t they?’
‘It’s not an issue.’
‘Maybe Jude thinks it is.’
Fox offered nothing more than a shrug.
‘How’s Fife?’ Mitch asked after a lull.
‘I was in St Andrews.’
‘Went to a caravan there once – when your mum and me were winching. Had to make sure her dad never found out.’ Mitch looked at his son. ‘What’s so funny?’
‘I just don’t hear people say “winching” these days.’
‘What do they say?’
‘Dating, I suppose.’ Fox paused. ‘Did we ever go to St Andrews? As a family, I mean.’
‘Maybe for a day… Do you think you remember it?’
Fox shook his head. ‘I just seem to have forgotten quite a lot.’
‘Join the bloody club – I remember that the caravan was pale green, but I couldn’t tell you what I had for dinner last night.’ Mitch watched his son try to swallow back another yawn.
‘I’ve got pills in the bathroom – you should sneak a few out with you.’
‘I might do that,’ Fox said, only half-joking.
‘Jude was looking through the shoebox again. I don’t know if it’s for my benefit or hers.’
‘Both, maybe.’
‘Plenty memories in there. No photos of the caravan, though.’ He paused. ‘We had some good holidays. Could be that’s what Jude’s looking for – times when you and her were a team.’
‘We’re still a team: she visits; I pay the bills.’
‘There are other places I could go, you know – places cheaper than this must be. It’s no wonder you can’t afford a new shirt or tie.’
Fox peered down towards his chest. ‘What’s wrong with my shirt and tie?’
‘You were wearing them last time you were here.’
‘Was I? I don’t remember.’
His father gave a sudden smile and slapped him on the knee. ‘No, me neither – I’m just winding you up.’
‘Thanks for that.’
‘You’re more than welcome.’
They were still smiling when the tea tray arrived.
‘By the way,’ Mitch said, ‘I’m sorry about the other day – teasing you in front of Sandy.’
‘Is that what it was: teasing?’
‘I could see you were hurt. But we both know you’re good at your job.’
‘That’s not what you were saying, though. You were wondering whether I’m cut out for life outside the Complaints. I’ve been asking myself the same thing.’
‘Well, I’m sorry I said it anyway.’
‘Don’t worry about it – gives me a bit of ammo next time Jude tells me I’m your favourite.’
‘You are, though – you know that.’
Fox looked at his father. ‘Do you say the same to Jude when I’m not around?’
‘Of course I do.’
‘Thought as much.’
When Mitch Fox started to laugh, his son couldn’t help but join in.
The three men – Fox, Kaye and Naysmith – convened at their office at HQ. While Naysmith made coffee for all of them, stifling yawns of his own and needing a shave, Kaye told Fox about his meeting with Teresa Collins.
‘Thing is,’ he concluded, ‘if Alan Carter did get her to testify against his nephew, we’re stuck with the nephew as prime suspect in the murder.’
‘And it is murder now,’ Naysmith confirmed. ‘Fiscal’s office gave the Murder Squad the nod.’
‘When did you hear that?’ Kaye asked.
Naysmith hesitated. ‘Last night,’ he eventually admitted.
‘Who’s your source, Joe?’ Kaye gave a wolfish smile. ‘Certain young lady in CID? Keep you out late, did she?’
Naysmith kept his back to his colleagues as he finished making the drinks.
‘Billie and Bekkah only knew Alan Carter through Billie’s boyfriend, right?’ Fox asked Kaye.
‘Tosh Garioch,’ Kaye confirmed. ‘Do I talk to him next?’
‘Can’t do any harm.’
‘Any reason to suppose he’d grass up his boss?’
Fox offered a shrug and took the proffered mug from Naysmith. Accepting his own drink, Kaye made a little kissing sound. Naysmith scowled, but refused to meet his eyes.
‘Joe,’ Fox said, ‘got anything on Gavin Willis for me?’
‘Not exactly.’ Naysmith eased himself on to his desk, letting his legs hang over the side and placing his coffee next to him. ‘Best I could do is a number for Superintendent Hendryson. He lives in Portugal. There’s an address, too…’ He brandished a page torn from a notebook.
‘And all it cost him was his virtue,’ Tony Kaye offered.
‘By the way,’ Naysmith added, ignoring Kaye, ‘Mark Haldane’s back from sick leave – effective as from this morning.’
‘That means the two of you can have a proper word with him,’ Fox said. He had risen from his chair and taken the phone number from Naysmith. ‘Portugal, eh?’ he commented as he looked at it.
‘Portugal,’ Joe Naysmith confirmed.
‘And you got this from Cheryl Forrester?’
‘Yes.’
‘Careful there, Joe.’
‘No fraternising with the enemy,’ Kaye added teasingly.
‘She’s not the enemy.’ Naysmith couldn’t help sounding defensive.
‘Maybe not now,’ Fox cautioned. ‘But all the same…’
Bob McEwan arrived just as Kaye and Naysmith were leaving. ‘Off to Fife?’ he guessed.
Kaye gestured in Fox’s direction. ‘How soon till we get our pal back?’
‘Not my decision. How near are you to being able to make a comprehensive report?’
‘Nobody’s admitting anything,’ Kaye told him.
McEwan’s focus moved to Naysmith. ‘Is that true, Joe?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘You don’t sound too sure.’
‘Nobody’s admitting anything,’ Naysmith echoed. ‘And the tap hasn’t-’ He stopped abruptly, winded by Kaye’s elbow finding his kidneys.
‘What tap?’ McEwan asked quietly.
‘We’re about to lift it, Bob,’ Fox explained, walking towards his boss.
‘I didn’t authorise any surveillance.’
‘It was a Fife call,’ Fox stated.
‘I should still have been told.’
‘Sorry about that.’
McEwan stabbed a finger towards Fox. ‘I don’t like this, Malcolm.’