'He'd do almost anything she asked. But he didn't do that. No fookin' way.'
`Which leads us on to Mr Bryn Sawyer. Andy, you said that he didn't seem surprised to see you.'
`He wouldn't, after that letter to Davey.'
In that case,' he said, emphasising his points with a stabbing forefinger, 'if he's our man, if he made a dummy Red Box, filled with explosive, and managed, somehow, to arm it and swap it for the one with which Maurice Noble left his home in Putney, before he got on the plane, if he's that bloody clever… how does he suddenly manage to become so bloody stupid that he lets you find all the gear in his workshop and in his house?'
`Because he is an artist blacksmith, boss,' said Martin, 'so he would have the steel. And his wife is a dressmaker, and did buy that red leather. He knew that if we started asking about him those details would come to light, and we would trace those purchases, so he left them there for us to find, and relied on his cover story.
`Plus, he had access to the military high explosives that we know were used and there is a stock discrepancy. Possession of all those items, and his skills, offer strong circumstantial evidence that he made the box and the bomb. He was in London at the time the switch would have to be made. He was even in Heathrow at the same time as Davey and Noble.
And he had made a physical threat to Davey.'
Skinner shook his head. 'No, Andy. He wrote a letter which can be interpreted as a physical threat.'
Okay, but it is still a very positive case. What more can Pettigrew ask for?'
`He can ask us to show beyond a reasonable doubt that Sawyer was in a position to make the switch. With everything else, that would do it for sure. But without that piece of evidence, and with the existence of the Tucker-Richards theory, which no one can actively disprove, and which could open up a defence of impeachment to confuse the jury, it would still be a dodgy prosecution; especially when the Crown Office has a far safer scapegoat at its disposal.'
`You're right there, I suppose.' Martin nodded resignedly. `Who's that, sir?' asked Dave Donaldson.
`Maurice Noble,' said Skinner. 'He's the fifth suspect. The Crown Office could simply lead evidence before a Fatal Accident Inquiry in the Sheriff Court to show that Noble was in a disturbed state of mind, and that he suspected Davey of having an affair with his wife.
Pettigrew could even put Ariadne in the witness box and force her to admit that he was right, in everything but the name of her partner. Then he could introduce Richards's evidence that Maurice asked him how you made a bomb, and that he gave him the basic information.
In a criminal trial, the Crown would have to prove access to the explosives, but not in an FAI, at least not beyond too reasonable a doubt. They wouldn't need the same level of proof, and although Noble would effectively be on trial posthumously, there would be no opportunity for defence evidence to be introduced. There are only seven jurors, a simple majority verdict is enough, and the Sheriff has wide powers of direction.
He spread his hands wide. 'I ask you, gentlemen. What would you do?'
Martin leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling. Joe Doherty smiled. Arrow looked glumly along the table.
`Still,' said Skinner breezily, 'that's all guesswork and bullshit. Let's switch on the telly and hear what Pettigrew had to say himself. Dave.'
Donaldson, who was seated closest to the television set, leaned over and picked up its remote unit. He pushed the Start button several times, but no picture appeared.
`Come on, man, we'll miss the bloody thing!'
`Sorry, boss, the battery must be low.' At last, the screen lit up, to show a crowded room.
Sir James Proud was seated at a table, before a blue backcloth. Beside him, a stocky, bushy-bearded man was on his feet.. ten days, exhaustive enquiries into the Lammermuirs disaster have been made, led by a team of detectives under the command of the Chief Constable, on my left, working with colleagues in other Forces and agencies.
On Saturday, four people were detained in various parts of England and brought to Edinburgh to assist the police with their enquiries. I have now had an opportunity to interview them all. Our investigation is continuing and is reaching a stage at which I expect proceedings to be considered. In the meantime, the four individuals have been released on police bail, until Friday, when they will report to me for further questioning.
`That is all I have to say at this stage. I would caution you all to exercise restraint in your reporting. Any attempt either in Scotland or England to interfere with witnesses in this case will be viewed very seriously by Crown Office.' As Sir James rose to his feet beside him, the Procurator Fiscal picked up his papers and bustled out of the room.
The picture cut back to the newsreader. 'Campaigning began today in several by-elections which have arisen as a result of the Lammermuirs disaster,' she began.
`Turn it off, Dave,' said Skinner. The DCI pressed a switch several times, but without success. A street canvass in Chindersford came on screen, showing the Tory candidate with the newly appointed Defence Secretary at his side. 'Kill the sound, then, if you can,' said the DCC. Donaldson pushed the mute button. The set fell silent at once.
`What was your Fiscal saying, do you think, Bob?' said Doherty.
Skinner grinned. I'm not often wrong, Joe, but I'm right again. He's leading up to taking the Noble option. He'll have the Fab Four up again next Friday, and then he'll announce that no charges have been made, and that he's holding a Fatal Accident Inquiry as soon as possible. That is not a guess, my friend. That is a fucking certainty.'
At the other end of the table, Arrow was frowning. The trouble is, Bob, Maurice didn't fookin' do it.'
`No,' said Martin. 'I still fancy Sawyer.'
`Then while I recuperate, you've got five days to prove it!'
`Who do you fancy, boss?' asked Neil Mcllhenney.
Skinner eyed him curiously. 'I thought you were being unusually quiet, Sergeant. But I don't answer your questions, I throw them at you. So you tell me… who do you fancy?'
`Me, sir?' The Sergeant put on his best 'simple detective' expression. 'To be honest with you, and I know I haven't met Sawyer, but I just don't fancy any of them. Apart from the boy Richards, who's just a love-struck eejit, they're all a bunch of shites, but that's all they are. Noble's too easy an option, but so 's Sawyer in a reverse sort of way.
If you're going to shove a red-hot poker up someone's arse you're not going to write to him giving him advance warning. That's why Davey knew he was safe in filing that letter.
If Sawyer hadn't sent it, I'd go for him, but because he did, I don't… if you see what I mean.'
`Yes, I see, Neil, and I agree with you. Truth be told, I don't fancy any of them either. You can have as many options as you like in this game, but there's always only one solution.
So until the Fiscal says, 'that's it — I'm picking him, or her, or them,' we've got to keep on looking.'
He paused. 'If I've learned anything this week, it's that it's possible to sit right on top of something, without even knowing that it's there. Sometimes, with a crime as big-scale as this, the tendency is to look for big-scale solutions. So over the next few days, I think we should set aside all the assumptions that we made at the start, pick up some of those we discarded, and-'
He stopped in mid-sentence and gazed down the table. `Lieutenant Swift, have I lost your attention?' he said evenly.
The Yorkshireman, who had been staring at the silent television, jumped in his seat.
I'm sorry, sir,' he said. 'It's just that…' he pointed back at the screen '… I know that bloke.'
NINETY
‘I’ll tell you something, Andy,' said Skinner. 'You've only got one fault left as a detective.
You're too open-minded.’
I've got a great team around me. You've all got your own strengths, and together you're unbeatable. But you know, of all of you, the one who thinks most like me is your pal Mcllhenney. He's not nearly as quick a thinker as you, or as analytical, but he's a devious bastard. That's what he and I have got in common.
