Bob Skiinner 21 Grievous Angel Read online

  ‘Or very keen for him to tell them something,’ I pointed out.

  ‘Could he have been double-crossing Tony over something? Or could he . . .’ he stopped, in mid-sentence. ‘Here, he isn’t on anyone’s informant list, is he?’

  ‘Bella Watson’s son? No way. No, Fred, when he was just running for Manson we . . . the drugs squad, I mean . . . had him in often enough. If he’d been a grass, I’d have been warned. Mind you . . . have a word with the Scottish Crime Squad crew, in case they were cultivating him.’

  ‘Without telling us?’

  ‘Roles reversed I wouldn’t tell them,’ I pointed out, ‘unless they needed to know. Yes, do that, but we won’t hold our breath for a response. No, first priority is finding Tony Manson. Did you check his house?’

  ‘Yes, I sent a car out there. It’s locked up, and the phone’s on auto answer.’

  ‘How did you get on with that wee shit of a lawyer?’

  ‘He stonewalled us.’ Leggat sighed. ‘Said he doesn’t know where his client is, or how to get in touch with him.’

  ‘Did you believe him?’

  ‘The first might be true, the second won’t be.’

  I turned to McGuire. I couldn’t help but admire his suit; pale blue mohair. ‘Mario, cameras?’

  ‘They have tapes for us, boss. They’ve promised them by this afternoon.’

  ‘Fine. Chase them up if they’re not here in half an hour. When they arrive, review them; you know what you’re looking for.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘And one other thing. The suit; when I said you could lose the uniform I didn’t mean you to replace it with Savile Row. This is CID. We do unobtrusive here.’

  The big guy looked crestfallen. ‘Sorry, boss.’

  I smiled. ‘That’s okay. It might come in handy if you ever go undercover in the New Club. Who’s your tailor, by the way?’

  ‘A friend of my cousin Paula’s,’ he said, morale restored. ‘She gets me a deal.’

  ‘Mmm,’ I murmured. ‘Maybe she could get me one too.’

  ‘I’ll ask her.’ Then he frowned. ‘One other thing, sir. DCS Stein asked if you’d go and see him.’

  ‘Urgent?’

  ‘He didn’t say so.’

  Whatever, a summons from the head of CID wasn’t something to be pushed to one side. I had a small private office at the far end of the suite. I headed for it, and asked Leggat to come with me. I’d been shown it the day before. My predecessor, Jock Davey, had taken early retirement on health grounds, and a couple of his possessions were still on the desk, a calculator, and a heavy glass paperweight. I put them on the window sill and eased myself into the well-worn chair; Leggat took one of the visitor seats.

  ‘Fred,’ I began, ‘before I go and see the boss, there are a couple of things we need to discuss. First, the media haven’t happened upon this yet, not for what it is. Someone from the UNS news agency called St Leonards last night asking about activity in Infirmary Street and the desk sergeant told him it was a break-in, for at the time that’s all he thought it was. But we have to come clean now. I’d like you to have the press office put out a statement telling the media that we’re investigating the death of Marlon Watson . . . you can name him . . . and treating it as murder. No more detail than that, though. You should add on the usual appeal for witnesses. Anyone who saw Watson on Tuesday, or who saw anything unusual in the Infirmary Street area around midnight that night.’

  The DI nodded. ‘I’ve got it drafted already, sir.’

  ‘I thought you might have. By the way, in this wee room, it’s Bob. That’s item one. Next, what’s your view on our two DCs?’

  ‘Macken and Reid? Not my choice, either of them; they don’t know what initiative is. They were old cronies of DCI Davey; he brought them with him when he took over here.’

  ‘Right. They’ll be replaced. I don’t plan to piss off Roy Old by emptying the drugs squad, but there’s a DC there I want to bring in. His name’s Brian Mackie. He’s only a couple of years older than McGuire and Martin, but he’s cool under pressure, plus he’s firearms trained. I want to set up surveillance on Bella Watson. I’m going to put him on that, him and one other new boy.’

  Leggat was surprised. ‘Surveillance on the mother?’

  ‘Yeah, for two reasons. I’m pretty certain that she’s servicing Tony Manson, but I don’t know how close they are. I’m also sure that the guys who killed Marlon didn’t just do it for fun or revenge. They were trying to get information out of him. If his mother knows what he knew . . .’

  ‘It makes her a potential target.’

  ‘Precisely. But there’s more than that; if she’s in the loop, it’s possible she has an idea who did for her boy. If so, they’re in trouble themselves. Bella’s tougher than any of her family were, and probably more dangerous.’

  ‘I see,’ he murmured, thoughtfully. ‘Who have you got in mind for the second bod on surveillance?’

  ‘Nobody. You got any ideas? Bear in mind that when the operation’s over, Macken and Reid will be out and they’ll stay.’

  He leaned back in his chair. ‘Male or female? There’s that lass in DCS Stein’s office. I rate her, if he’d let us have her.’

  ‘Mmm. We’re not supposed to be sexist, Fred, but where Bella lives a woman would be very obvious. We can fit her in, possibly, in the future, but for this job, a guy.’

  ‘Age?’

  ‘Don’t care.’

  ‘In that case,’ he began, ‘there’s a young lad called Steele, DC Steven Steele. We were looking closely at Jackie Charles a couple of months ago, after an armed robbery, and I borrowed him from Leith. I saw a lot in him. Charismatic’s not a word I chuck around, but it applied to him.’

  I had to laugh. ‘In that case he’ll blend in well with Mackie. Big Brian’s had a charisma bypass.’ I rose. ‘I’d better go see the boss, since he’s asked. I’ll fix those transfers with him.’

  I left the suite and went down one floor, to the lair of the head of CID. His exec . . . her name was Shannon, DC Dorothy Shannon . . . was behind his desk in the outer office. DCS Stein and I both liked to work with junior officers who were young enough not to have found a comfort zone. She looked up as I entered. ‘Afternoon, sir,’ she said, briskly.

  ‘And you, Dottie, and you. Is he in?’

  ‘Yes, sir. He’s expecting you.’

  He was standing by his coffee machine when I opened the door. He’d heard me, for there were two mugs beside it and he was filling them from the pot that stood there, ever ready. When he retired, he gave the contraption to me. To this day, I drink too much coffee and it’s down to Alf.

  ‘I hear you’ve had a baptism,’ he murmured as he handed me a brimming mug, emblazoned with the image of his namesake, the late great football manager.

  ‘Yes indeed,’ I agreed. ‘I had to take up the reins early,’ I felt myself scowl, ‘or rather I had them thrust into my hands.’

  ‘I heard that too. You shouldn’t be so rough on Greg.’

  ‘Greg’s a bam-pot,’ I growled. Stein shared my west of Scotland origins; he knew what the word meant.

  In fact he knew better than I did. ‘No, son,’ he chuckled, ‘he’s a bam-stick. A bam-stick is used for stirring a bam-pot, and that’s what makes him useful.’

  ‘Either way, he’s shit.’

  He looked at me sharply. ‘Bob, you listen to me. The one thing that will hold you back in the job is letting personal feelings screw up your judgement. I don’t like the man any more than you do. Indeed I know things about him that you don’t, things I could use to bounce him off the force tomorrow. I’m not saying that he takes backhanders. Hell no, he dislikes criminals even more than he dislikes you, but he’s got other faults. I keep him, though, because he’s actually a better detective than he’s given credit for. Of all the divisional CID commanders, he’s got the best clear-up rate.’

  ‘I gather you’ve had a call from him.’

  ‘No, I’ve had a visit. He complained abo
ut you walking into his crime scene and kicking him off his own investigation. He complained about you bringing your daughter with you. He complained about you commandeering three of his officers. He complained about you having personal relations with one of them.’

  ‘He did what!’ I roared.

  ‘Calm down, now, while I tell you. I yelled at him too when he said that, and asked him what the hell he meant by it. He told me that Higgins never went back to St Leonards. He said he called her at midnight, and then again at six in the morning, and got no reply, so he drove out to Gullane and saw her car parked outside your house.’

  ‘I’m going to kill him,’ I declared, quietly and sincerely.

  ‘No, you’re not.’ Alf smiled. ‘I forbid it.’

  ‘Boss, I took Alex with me last night because I had no option. Jay effectively dumped the investigation in my lap, and Alison took her home as a favour to me. Yes, she stayed the night, but she was never part of the investigation team, so what’s that to Jay? You know about the two of us, anyway. As for Martin and McGuire, I seconded them because I needed them and because you and the chief made it clear I’ve got the power to do that.’

  ‘You don’t have to explain yourself,’ he told me. ‘I’m not asking you to. Bob, I sent Jay out of here with his tail between his legs and the threat of organising traffic patrols in Hawick ringing in his ears. The only reason I’m telling you about it is to emphasise what can happen when you make enemies. You’re a bull, son, and you’ve got to develop colour blindness when somebody waves a red flag at you.’

  I nodded, chastened. ‘Point taken, boss.’ I frowned. ‘But now you’ve got me worried about Alison. She works for Jay.’

  ‘Not any more. I’ve told him that he’s forfeited all rights to her confidence as a manager. I’m transferring her to Torphichen Place. She’s going places and he’s not getting in the way.’

  ‘Good. Thanks.’

  ‘I did it for her, son, not you.’ He paused and looked at me, not as a colleague, but as the concerned friend of two people. ‘Be easy with her, though, will you?’

  ‘Of course.’ I didn’t want to prolong that discussion, so I moved on. ‘I want to keep Martin and McGuire.’

  ‘Fine, I’ll sort it.’

  ‘And I need two more guys, urgently.’ I gave him a rundown on the murder investigation and explained the Bella Watson situation, then gave him the names of the DCs I wanted.

  ‘Agreed,’ he said. ‘I’ll order the transfers as of now.’ He frowned. ‘Somebody’s rattling Tony Manson’s cage?’

  ‘Looks like it.’

  ‘I don’t like that. Tony’s a ruthless, evil, drug-running, murderous bastard, and all the rest, but he’s the status quo. He’s the devil we know, and you know the saying. If we’ve got a new one on our patch, I want to know who he is. Any rumours?’

  ‘Macken and Reid have been asking around.’

  The DCS snorted. ‘Those two wouldn’t have a clue where to ask, Bob. But you do, and you’ve got the presence to make people talk to you. So has that boy Martin. I saw him play rugby a couple of weeks back, for Edinburgh against Borders. He’s a fuckin’ animal; brute strong.’

  I hadn’t picked that up, the night before, or when we’d worked together earlier. He didn’t take it off-field. In truth, when he’d grasped for his cross in the presence of Bella I’d marked him down as a wimp. I’ll bear that in mind, I thought.

  ‘Where’s your next call?’ Alf asked.

  ‘I need to interview Bella’s daughter, Mia the deejay. She talks to people for a living; I’ll have to find out if that extends to the police.’

  Six

  I had no idea where Airburst FM was based, but Martin did, so I took him with me to meet Mia Watson. The studios were located in an anonymous, flat-roofed building on a commercial estate in Sighthill. I’ve noticed that local radio stations tend not to advertise their presence, as if it’s okay for their listeners to phone them but bad news if they turn up on the doorstep. There was no neon sign above the Airburst premises, only a small brass plate on the door, although the cars parked outside, bedecked in the station logo, did give the game away.

  The entrance was secure, with a videophone beside the door. Andy Martin announced our arrival and a girl came to let us in, a tiny wee thing with purple hair, a silver stud through her right nostril and another through her eyebrow. Facial ironmongery was starting to become fashionable then. I’ve never been a fan, or even understood it; Alex has had pierced ears since childhood, but has no ambition to go further.

  The kid led us to a tiny reception area and asked us to wait there; we did, until she returned and led us through what looked like the newsroom, to an office beyond. It had glass walls, with black slatted blinds that were wide enough open to let us see, as we approached, a young woman, seated at a long table.

  Our escort opened the door for us, but didn’t follow us in. Mia Sparkles, née Watson, stood as we entered. She had brown hair, short, with an Audrey Hepburn look, and brown eyes; she wore very little make-up, a little blusher and lipstick, that was all, and she was dressed in white cotton trousers and a T-shirt bearing the station logo; she displayed it well.

  I have this belief, that I can look at people and know what they’re made of, under the skin. As I gazed at Mia, and imagined her mother, it came to me that they couldn’t have been less alike. While Bella radiated hostility and hatred, her daughter was the complete opposite; I couldn’t pin it down completely, but to me, she showed as provocative, enticing, exciting, a person who could connect with anyone she chose. She sparkled, simple as that; I found myself wondering if she’d chosen her radio name or whether it had been given to her.

  Not that she was smiling at that moment. Her expression was solemn, for she knew why we had come. ‘I’m Bob Skinner,’ I told her. ‘And this is DC Martin.’

  She looked at Andy. ‘It was you called me earlier?’ she asked. He nodded. ‘Sorry, I didn’t catch the name.’ Her attention, and those magnetic eyes, turned back to me. ‘Is this about my brother?’

  ‘You know, then.’

  She nodded and blinked. ‘Yes. My mum called me, this morning.’ Her accent wasn’t a bit like Bella’s either: Scottish, but with no rough edges. Smoother than my Lanarkshire tones, that was for sure.

  ‘We’re sorry for your loss,’ I offered.

  ‘Thanks; I have a feeling that you mean that, and I appreciate it. It’s terrible that a thing like that could happen to somebody.’

  ‘Are you going on air this afternoon,’ I asked her, ‘or will someone stand in for you?’

  She shook her head. ‘No, that wouldn’t be fair to the station, or to my listeners. I won’t have a problem; I won’t break down on air or anything like that. I don’t mean that to sound heartless, Mr Skinner, but I haven’t seen my brother since he was twelve years old. I never knew him as an adult. Nobody in here even knows I have a brother.’

  ‘Our press office is issuing a statement about now,’ I told her. ‘It doesn’t mention Marlon’s connection with you. If that’s something you want to keep private, we’ll respect that.’

  ‘Thanks. I’d be very grateful if you would.’

  ‘So you haven’t seen him at all lately?’

  ‘No, as I said, never.’

  ‘How about your mother?’

  ‘Occasionally.’

  ‘Did she ever talk about him?’

  Mia smiled, but I sensed that it was false. ‘She has two topics of conversation: money and herself.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘Listen, I hate to rush you, but I have to get my act together; I’m on in fifteen minutes.’

  ‘Understood,’ I said. I took out one of my calling cards; they’d have to be reprinted following my promotion but my Fettes extension number wouldn’t change, it would move with me. As an afterthought I found a pen and scrawled my mobile number on the back, before I handed it to her. ‘If anything occurs to you, something Bella might have said, for example, call me.’

  She smiled. ‘You know
my mum?’

  ‘Oh yes, I know your mum.’ I had a quick memory flash. ‘By the way, I’ve got a request from my daughter; she’s a fan. Can she have an autographed photo?’

  ‘My pleasure,’ Mia replied. ‘I’ll attend to it after my show. I’ll post it to the address on your card, yes?’

  ‘That’ll do fine. Her name’s Alex.’

  ‘Will I include her mother and you in the dedication?’

  ‘She doesn’t have a mother, not any more.’

  She frowned. ‘Oh. I’m sorry.’

  I shrugged, awkwardly; a strange gesture, I know, but I couldn’t help it. ‘It was a while ago.’ In a way that was a lie; to me it was the day before yesterday. ‘Just “To Alex” will be fine.’