Murmuring the Judges

clung to the tiled edge, ‘your swimming’s come on a power in the time we’ve been here. But don’t overdo it. You don’t want to fall asleep over your pizza tonight, do you?’

‘Pizza!’ the boy yelled. ‘In the pink place by the beach?’

Bob Skinner nodded, pleased hugely by his foster-son’s juvenile delight. Although he was only seven, young Mark’s life had been so scarred by tragedy, with the separate violent deaths of both his parents, that the policeman had feared that he would never be a child again.

His offer to adopt the boy after his mother’s murder had been welcomed by all three of his surviving grand- parents, each of whom recognised their inability to raise a child to manhood. Even more vitally, it had been welcomed by Mark, who had come to know the Deputy Chief Constable well through his adventures.

Skinner grinned as he remembered their earnest conversation, on the beach, back at their other home in Gullane.

‘So, wee man, you’ll come to live with Sarah and me, as our adopted son, and as James Andrew’s big brother?’

‘Yes please. My daddy promised me a wee brother. But then he died.’

‘Well you’ll have one now, ready made, and he’ll be a handful, I’ll tell you. Now, is there anything you want to ask me?’

‘Will I call you Daddy and Mummy?’

‘No, I don’t think so.You should always honour your natural daddy and mummy. Uncle Bob and Auntie Sarah would be better, don’t you think?’

‘Yes, I think so.Will I be called Mark Skinner?’

‘What would be right, do you think? When we adopt you, legally you’ll be our son, Auntie Sarah’s and mine. But that doesn’t mean that you have to change your name.Your mummy and your daddy were both very special people, and you can still carry their name if you want to. Do you?’

‘Yes, I think I do.’

‘That’s good, because although I’ll give you my name if you want it, I think it’s right for you to go on being Mark McGrath.’

It had been virtually plain sailing after that, although there had been one minor concern when Mark’s grand- father had questioned Bob’s decision to send the child to the local primary school in Gullane, and later to high school in North Berwick.

‘Look, Bob, if it’s a matter of money, Mark will inherit a fair bit from his parents. I can arrange for school and university expenses to be met from his trust fund.’

‘Mr McGrath, I’m not going to adopt the boy and expect him to pay for his upbringing. This has nothing to do with money. I believe that it’s better for him to be educated in his own community, especially if the facilities are excellent. My daughter went to those schools and left Glasgow University with a First in Law.’

‘Okay. I concede that. The truth is, I’m ambitious that Mark should go to Oxford or Cambridge. He’s very bright, you know. It might be difficult getting in there from an East Lothian school, but sometimes the private sector can pull strings for its pupils.’

‘Hah! The way things are heading in this country, all that privilege crap will be swept away by the time Mark’s eighteen. Even if it isn’t, and there are strings that have to be pulled, I think you’ll find that there are few people better at that than Chief Police Officers. Anyway, as you say, Mark is very bright, and when that time comes, he may well have his own views about his education, which should be respected. Right now, he really does want to go to the local primary.’

Bob grinned once more, this time at the sight of Jazz, buoyant in the blue water and paddling away furiously with his legs. Unlike his adoptive brother, who pushed himself off the poolside and thrashed off to meet him, he was a natural born swimmer.

Sarah eased over beside her husband at the deep end of the pool, and linked her arm through his. She kissed him lightly on the cheek. ‘It’s been a success, hasn’t it, this family-building holiday in L’Escala. D’you think we could stretch it to a third week?’

‘Seven more days of Spanish sun?’ he replied. ‘I’d love to, but for one reason and another my Chief Constable hasn’t seen enough of me this year. I owe it to Proud Jimmy to get back. Anyway, you and I have a new house to sort out, and our older boy has to start his new school.’

He chuckled. ‘No holidays in term-time from now on, lady. Get used to the idea.’

Sarah wrinkled her nose, and pulled herself up against the wall of the pool, her breasts breaking the surface of the blue water. ‘Ugh. For how long, d’you reckon?’

Bob’s chuckle turned to a frown. ‘Christ, given our wish for at least one more child, probably until I’m about seventy.’

‘All the more reason to take another week, then.’

He slipped his free arm around her waist, as Jazz and Mark swam towards them. ‘I’ll give you two extra days, assuming we can change the ferry booking to Saturday night, but that’s as far as I can stretch it.’

He paused. ‘I really need to get back for Andy as well.’

Sarah’s eyebrows rose as she reached out to take Mark’s hand. ‘Detective Chief Superintendent Martin? What’s bothering our future son-in-law? Nothing to do with him and Alex, I hope.’

Bob grinned. ‘Not this time, I’m glad to say.

‘No, he’s got himself worked into a lather about a spate of armed robberies on the patch. When we put Jackie Charles out of business we thought that we’d see a reduction in that type of thing, and a virtual end to organised crime in general. But it hasn’t happened. Now Andy’s thinking is that we may have a new Mr Big on our hands.’

His smile had faded. ‘If he’s right, and he usually is, then I agree with him. Whoever it is needs to be squashed, and damn quick. I don’t like criminals in general, but the sort who carry guns . . .

‘I tell you, Doctor Sarah, if there is someone back home who thinks he can turn my Edinburgh into Dodge City, then for sure the bugger is going to wish that you’d persuaded me to stay on here . . . even if it was only for another week!’

3

Detective Chief Inspector Maggie Rose looked up in surprise as Brian Mackie walked into her tiny office in the Haddington Police Station. She ran her hand over her red hair . . . less vivid than that of Nathan Bennett, Mackie noted idly . . . as she stared at the Divisional CID commander.

‘What are you doing back?’ she asked him. ‘I thought you’d be tied up in the High Court all day, and maybe into tomorrow. What happened? Did the defence case fold up?’

The tall, bald detective shook his head. ‘No,’ he replied, without the trace of a smile. ‘The judge did.’

‘Eh?’

‘Lord Archergait. He dropped dead on the Bench; right in the middle of my cross examination.’

Rose’s hand went to her mouth. ‘Oh no,’ she said, frowning. ‘Not old Archergait. That’s too bad.’ She hesitated. ‘What was it? Heart attack?’

Mackie nodded. ‘Yeah. A sudden massive coronary, the doctor said. He also said that he was surprised that it didn’t happen more often in the High Court, given the age of a few of the judges.’

He smiled suddenly. ‘Here, you’ll never guess who the doctor was. That guy Banks.’

‘What,’ his deputy responded, surprised, ‘the bloke that Andy Martin fell out with? The guy he had thrown off the list of force MEs?’

‘Aye, that’s right. He was giving evidence in a civil case on one of the other Courts. He was puffed up like a wee bantam cock at being called in to help.’

‘I’ll bet.’

She looked up at Mackie once more as he leaned against the window of the small room gazing out on to the main street of the little market town. ‘So what happens about the trial?’ she asked.

‘We begin all over again . . . unless Kilmarnock recognises that he’s flogging a dead horse and offers a plea.’