Autographs in the Rain Read online

As he neared the two squat stone cottages, he saw two cars parked in

  front, both off-roaders. He recognised one, a blue Suzuki jeep, from his

  earlier visit, but the other, a massive Toyota Land Cruiser, was new to him.

  Its vivid green metallic finish seemed to shine through the mud which caked

  its sides.

  As he looked at it a voice called out. 'Hey there. What dae ye want?' A

  deep, rough-hewn voice, that of a man given to asking only simple questions.

  Pringle fixed him with a policeman's glare. The man looked to be in his

  late fifties, strong, with a labourer's build. He held a black sack in his left

  hand and in the other, a dead trout.

  'I want the manager,' the detective barked, his answer as aggressive as

  the question.

  The worker backed down. 'Over there, sir,' he said, at once as threatening

  as his trout. 'Thae cottages.'

  Pringle was about to knock on the door of the first of the twin houses,

  when it opened, leaving him with his knuckles poised in mid-air, descending

  towards nothing. 'Good morning, Superintendent,' said Bill Gates, the young

  manager of the Mellerkirk Trout Farm. 'Sorry about old Harry's welcome.

  He's a bit narked; he thinks he's going to be laid off because of this.'

  Gates was fair-haired, slightly built inside his waxed cotton jacket... a

  Marks and Spencer job, Pringle noticed, rather than the more famous brand

  ... and wore a harassed expression. 'Come on into the office. We've been

  watching you coming up the track,' he added. 'That was a long walk you

  left yourself.'

  52

  AUTOGRAPHS IN THE RAIN

  'A nice morning for it, though, Mr Gates.' The police officer stepped

  inside and looked around. The first of the buildings, which had once housed

  labourers of the land, served as the office of the fish farm in the new era. The

  other was still a dwelling, occupied by the farm manager, a single man.

  On the other side of the room, a door opened and a third man stepped

  through; tall, straight-backed, silver-haired, with a long, patrician nose and

  small sharp blue eyes. 'Detective Inspector Pringle,' Gates announced, 'this

  is Sir Adrian Watson, Baronet, the owner of the farm, and of the Mellerkirk

  Estate.'

  The newcomer offered no handshake; nothing but a curt nod. 'Good

  day, Superintendent,' he barked. 'You're the new fellow, are you;

  McGrigor's successor.' He looked Pringle up and down, as if he was

  inspecting livestock. 'Less of a stereotype than him, I must say.'

  'Wish I could say the same for you,' the detective thought as he gazed

  back at the landowner.

  'Big John's a good man to follow, sir. He ran a tight ship down here.'

  'In that case, you're not living up to it very well, are you, man?'

  It seemed to Dan Pringle as if all the good of his morning walk had been

  undone in an instant, as he felt his blood pressure soar. 'Would you like to

  expand on that, Sir Adrian?' he asked coldly.

  'I may expand on it to Sir James Proud, the next time I see him in the

  New Club.'

  'You do that very thing, sir. But right here, right now, I'd like you to

  explain to me what you meant by that remark.'

  The baronet looked at the policeman, taken aback slightly by his bristling

  aggression. We, you bastard,' Pringle thought. 7 haven't gone completely

  native, not yet, anyway.'

  'Where are my damn fish then?' the estate owner snapped, trying to

  bluster his way out of what had become suddenly an uncomfortable corner.

  'You don't look as if you've come to tell me you've caught these damn

  thieves.'

  'No, I haven't.'

  'Well, what are you doing here? Go away and get on with it, man.'

  'Listen, Sir Adrian,' said the detective, 'it's time you came to terms with

  the facts.

  'Fact one: I've got officers all over Scotland and beyond involved in the

  search for your stock. We're checking every possible processing centre we

  can find. We're checking every supermarket chain in the country to see if

  they've been offered any surprise consignments of trout. We're interviewing

  every resident in this area to see if anyone saw a large vehicle enter or

  leave your farm on the night of the theft.

  'You know what? They're all wasting their fucking time.

  'Fact two: we've got little or no chance of recovering your fish. By now

  they're probably killed and frozen down, and in a store that we've got no

  chance of finding. In a few months' time they'll start showing up in the sort

  of street corner mini-market where you have to check the sell-by date on

  every can of beer, the sort of place where the owner won't ask questions if

  he's offered some bargain stock.

  'Either that or they'll be disposed of in bulk through a cash-and-carry

  somewhere down south, or possibly in France or Spain.

  'But suppose we do catch some joker trying to flog some frozen trout?

  He's going to spin us a story about having netted them. What are we going

  to do then? Stick the fucking things in a line-up and ask you and Mr Gates

  to identify them?'

  He glared at Watson. 'Fact three: you are not only the victim here, sir.

  You are also a contributory factor to the crime.

  'You're running a business here with a multi-million-pound turnover.

  You've got a massive investment in stock, in rearing tanks, in sterile

  conditions for harvesting, handling, killing and distribution. Yet you grudged

  the relatively small investment it would have taken to protect you against

  the possibility of a theft like this.

  'Fact four: John McGrigor visited you personally a couple of years ago,

  and another time before that, and he advised you to install perimeter alarms

  linked to the nearest fully manned police office, plus a video system with

  cameras on inaccessible steel poles linked to a recorder off-site.

  'The cost of all that would have been a relatively small addition to your

  total capital investment here. You could have written it off against tax in

  the usual way, and reduced your insurance premiums significantly.

  'Did you do that? Did you fuck! You told him that the fact that the

  manager lived on site was security enough. You were dead bloody wrong,

  of course, and that's why the three of us are standing here today.'

  Pringle turned towards the door. 'That's what I came here to tell you this

  morning. Those fish have bolted now, of course, but it's not too late to bar

  the gate against a repeat performance.'

  He grasped the round brass handle, then paused and took a deep breath.

  'Oh aye, there's one more thing.

  54

  AUTOGRAPHS IN THE RAIN

  'Fact five: if you ever try to threaten me again, or try to dismiss me in

  that way, then do not from that time on drink as much as a thimbleful of

  whisky and get into your car, or park on a yellow line, or give a sweetie to

  a kid in the street, or do anything else you could be had up for, or, believe

  me, you will be.

  'If you want to tell all that to Sir James Proud, in the New Club, in his

  office, or anywhere fucking else, be my guest. But tip me off when you're

  going to do it, because I'd like to be there.'

  The heavy door cras
hed shut behind the detective. As he began the long

  walk back to his car, down the rough track, feeling the recuperative power

  of the morning country air, there was a broad smile on his face.

  Ruth McConnell made a soft sound as Pye pulled his car into his space in

  the park behind police headquarters, directly alongside a sleek red MGF

  sports car.

  'What's up?' Sammy asked.

  'I was just thinking about your boss's pride and joy, parked next to us.

  That'll be going down the road soon. Karen won't be able to get into it in a

  couple of months, and once she has the baby ...'

  'Don't you believe it. Andy Martin and that motor are joined at the hip.

  But it's not a problem; they've got another car, a new Ford Focus. They got

  it after they sold Karen's flat.

  'Anyhow, just for a minute there I thought you were pissed off at me, or

  something.'

  She reached out and touched his cheek. 'And why would I? Sammy, you

  were really great last night, really understanding. I was just so stressed out

  that if we had, it would have been awful, disastrous even. Having you there

  beside me ... I really needed you; but I have never been less in the mood.'

  He glanced at her mournfully. 'I've never been more in the mood.'

  She laughed again brightly. 'I could see that. Very impressive, even under

  cover.'

  She laid her hand on his thigh. 'Once the boss gets back, I'm sure all the

  strain will be off, but until it is, until I know for sure, I'm still in this

  nightmare.

  'Once it is over ... Would you like to move in with me? Or would you

  like me to move in with you? Or do you prefer it the way it is?'

  He sighed, and smiled. 'You know what I want. Your place is bigger

  than mine; your bathroom's nicer, your kitchen's better equipped. I'll move

  in with you; after a while we can look for something together.

  'I won't be in this job forever. Who knows, Mr Martin might post me

  down to the Borders, beside Dan Pringle.'

  'No danger; Jack McGurk's there already, remember. You're going back

  56

  AUTOGRAPHS IN THE RAIN

  east, eventually, to Brian Mackie's division. Stevie Steele's going to team

  up with Maggie Rose again, once a certain DS in her team retires.'

  'How do you know all that?'

  'I just do. Now please forget I said it. We'll have to be careful with the

  pillow-talk, you and I.'

  'I'm just looking forward to starting it.'

  The too,' said Ruth. 'But now we'd better get inside. My big boss might

  be away for the morning, but the other one's probably been in for an hour

  already.'

  Detective Inspector David Mackenzie stepped into his office, closed the

  door behind him, then stared in astonishment at the man sitting behind his

  desk. His mouth hung open as the visitor pushed himself out of his chair

  and walked round toward him.

  The blow was faster than anything he had ever seen; the tips of three

  stiff straight fingers stabbed into the pit of his stomach at the top of the

  inverted V-shape below his rib-cage. A bolt of pain, worse than anything

  he had ever known, flooded through him and stayed. His legs gave, and his

  bladder almost followed, but despite the agony he managed to keep it under

  control.

  As he started to fall, the man caught him by the lapels of his overcoat,

  held him up, then dropped him on to a straight-backed seat. Mackenzie

  wanted to shout for help, but he felt as if he had no breath left in his lungs,

  only fire. Also, he guessed that there was a fair chance that if he tried, no

  sound would be allowed to escape his lips.

  'Who?' he croaked eventually.

  'You know who I am,' said the intruder icily. 'You know all about me,

  Bandit, or so it seems.'

  He reached into his pocket, produced a small, palm-sized tape recorder

  and pressed a button. The inspector froze as he heard his own voice, tinny

  but unmistakable.

  'And your man Skinner's never made a mistake about a woman has he ?

  I seem to remember he was all over the tabloids not so long ago. Something

  to do with him shagging a woman detective sergeant on his staff.

  'Does he give you one as well, now and again ?'

  'The answer is "no", Mackenzie, although the man who does is a lucky

  son-of-a-bitch.

  'Mister, you've just committed two of the biggest mistakes any detective

  officer can make. The first is stupidity, and the second is underestimating a

  suspect. I've been guilty of both myself in my time, but never as crassly as

  58

  AUTOGRAPHS IN THE RAIN

  that. Ruth works for me; she's a very intelligent lady, and she's picked up a

  few touches from me in her time.

  'For the purposes of your investigation, I'll tell you this, you arrogant

  young bastard. Last night, after your failed attempt at intimidation, Ruth

  came straight to see me. She played me that tape, which sealed your fate on

  the spot. Then I asked her to think very carefully about all the time she

  spent away from Sammy that Saturday afternoon.

  'Happily she remembered something. She remembered seeing my

  daughter in Jenner's, just before five o'clock. She didn't speak to her, but

  she saw her on the other side of the second-floor balcony, in the glassware

  department.

  'I called Alex, and she confirmed that she was there. And she does have

  a date and time stamped credit card slip to prove it; for half-a-dozen whisky

  tumblers, as it happens. My Christmas present; she's pissed off because

  now she'll have to get me something else.

  'So you can forget about Ruthie as a suspect. That was always far too

  fucking easy, anyway. I'll grant you that all the circumstances pointed

  straight at her, but even at that, you must have been out of your fucking

  mind to think that a DCC's secretary would off anyone and let herself be

  seen doing it.

  'So look somewhere else, Bandit. Your investigation's back to square

  one again. Understood?'

  Mackenzie nodded, still incapable of coherent speech, still racked with

  pain.

  'You know, son,' Bob Skinner continued, 'there're two ways a copper

  like you can go. He can go to the top or he can go to hell in a handcart.

  Make me your enemy and you are on route two: you can be dead certain of

  that.'

  He held up the recorder for the Strathclyde detective to see. 'I could use

  this tape to have you sent to Oban in a uniform by tomorrow morning at the

  latest. I've got the power to halt your career in its tracks.

  'But I'm not going to, because I asked my pal Willie Haggerty about

  you. You remember him? Yes, I thought you would.

  'He told me that you're undoubtedly the cockiest, most conceited bastard

  he's ever met, and that you have been in need of a really good doing for

  some time. But he said also that you've made DI in spite of your weaknesses,

  and that with them knocked out of you, you could become a great detective

  officer.

  'Now you've got the chance to prove him right. Get out there and find

  out who killed old John McConnell. And keep me informed of progress

  every step of the way. Don't worry about jurisdiction; I'l
l square that with

  your gaffers. They owe me a couple of favours, and I've got a personal

  interest in this one.'

  He looked down through what David 'Bandit' Mackenzie realised were

  the coldest blue eyes he had ever seen. 'I'm backing Willie Haggerty's

  judgement of you, son. You prove us wrong and I might just come back

  here and teach you everything I know about intimidation.'

  60

  15

  As the door of his office swung open, Ted Chase sighed his irritation.

  'Inspector Good,' he began, 'I thought I told you to call before...' Then he

  looked up and saw a figure, clad in a uniform which was heavy with silver

  braid.

  He stood up straight behind his desk, almost by reflex. 'I'm sorry, Chief,

  I didn't realise.'

  'Not at all, not at all,' said Sir James Proud. 'I should apologise. I ought

  to have knocked.' He waved some correspondence which he was holding.

  'I just thought Bob might have been in here, that was all. There's something

  I wanted to ask him about.'

  'It wouldn't be the London incident, would it?' Chase ventured.

  'As a matter of fact it would. How the hell did you know about that?'