‘Archie Nelson is a good friend of mine, and it looks as if I’m going to be the man who brings him down. Not a happy prospect.’
He looked round at Martin.
‘Have there been any other happenings to brighten up this lovely day?’ he asked.
‘No more robberies, thankfully,’ the Head of CID responded. ‘I had a call from John McGrigor this afternoon though. Someone found a body in a wood near West Linton, tied up and shot in the head.
‘The early indications are that it’s a domestic. Apparently the victim was shagging someone else’s wife.’
‘Indeed,’ said Skinner. ‘I’d leave John to get on with it, if I were you. It’ll do him good to have a nice ordinary murder to investigate. It might even stop him promising to catch Harry Riach’s killer, even if the rest of us can’t. Because knowing him, he might even do it, and I’d worry about what he’d do if he succeeded!’
44
She lay in bed, propped on an elbow and looking at him as, still towelling himself off, he emerged from the en suite bathroom, back into their bedroom. She was as familiar with his body as with her own, with every feature, and with every one of the scars he had collected in some of his rougher moments. As he turned to toss the towel into the basket of items destined for the washing machine, she saw the most recent, bluer than the rest, less conspicuous than the jagged rip at the back of his right thigh, but even more deadly at the time.
‘Bob?’ she murmured.
‘Uh-huh?’
‘Promise me something, yeah?’
‘Try me?’
‘This weekend. Promise me you’ll spend it all with me and the kids.’
‘If it’s in my power, I promise.’
‘It is in your power. You’re in charge, for God’s sake.’
‘Yes, but the way things are just now...’
‘Andy is boss man of the Criminal Investigation branch, isn’t he?’
‘Yes, but . . .’ He grinned at her and gave up.
‘Okay, I promise that come hell or high water, I will spend the whole weekend with you, Mark and Jazz . . . always provided that you don’t go off to cut up a body somewhere.’
She beamed back at him in satisfaction. ‘I can promise that, okay. Joe Hutchison’s going away for the weekend.’
‘That’s good. Are you doing anything professional today?’
‘Yes, as a matter of fact. I forgot to tell you last night, before we got side-tracked. The Prof.’s giving me a lot of work just now. I’m assisting again this morning.’
He nodded. ‘That’ll be McGrigor’s stiff, I expect. A breach of the Seventh Commandment; still punishable by death in West Linton, apparently.’ The casual aside was made without a thought. He glanced at her quickly, but she smiled back.
‘Wow! Ain’t we lucky.’
He stepped across and sat on the edge of the bed. ‘Yes, my love,’ he said, ‘we surely are.’
His mouth still tasted of toothpaste as she kissed him. ‘And we’ll never forget it, will we?’
‘No chance.’ For a moment he almost slipped back into bed. ‘No, no, no,’ he muttered, standing up and opening a drawer. ‘Got to go!’
He began to dress. ‘You’re covered for a baby-sitter today, yes?’
‘Of course. And tomorrow night, for the party.’
‘Oh Christ, yes. We’d better get ours organised too. Pick a date . . . first Saturday after Jimmy gets back will do . . . and ask the Mallard to do the catering. Give them an approximate number for now and we’ll sort out the guest list over the weekend.’
She slid out of bed, and into her robe. She was never lovelier, he thought, than first thing in the morning, tousled, musky, still with the haze of sleep lingering upon her. ‘Okay,’ she said. ‘I’ll fit that into my day.’ She hugged him as he adjusted the knot of his silk tie.
‘When are you due at the Crown Office?’
‘Archie said he’d see me at eight-thirty.’
‘Poor guy. I hope he has a good breakfast, because I don’t think he’ll feel like lunch.’
‘Not a word to Joe about that, remember,’ he warned her. ‘Don’t even mention that I’m going to the Crown Office.’
‘As if I would. Wherever it is, darling, our home’s still as sacred as the confessional.’
They ate their cereal together in the conservatory, scanning through the newly delivered morning papers and enjoying the view, still a novelty for them, of the morning sun as it bathed the Forth estuary, until it was time for Bob to go.
He had always preferred to leave Gullane slightly early to beat the worst of the traffic, although it had grown in density over the years to the point at which a journey which once had been completed comfortably in thirty-five minutes now took fifteen minutes more. Nevertheless he reached Chambers Street with five minutes to spare for his meeting with the Lord Advocate.
The receptionist was not yet on duty as he entered the Crown Office, but the night security attendant was expecting him. ‘Just go through, sir,’ he said. ‘The Advocate’s waiting for you.’
‘Good morning, Bob,’ said the plump, jovial Lord Archibald, as the policeman entered his office. ‘I could barely wait to get in here today, to find out what’s behind your urgent request for a meeting. Sorry about having to make it so early, but I’m off to Lord Archergait’s funeral this morning.’
Skinner smiled. ‘I thought it was important that I keep you in touch personally with the latest developments in the Archergait and Barnfather investigations.’
‘That’s good of you, Bob, I appreciate the courtesy.’
‘Actually, Archie, something came up yesterday. I hoped you could help me with it.’
The Lord Advocate looked puzzled. ‘If I can, I will. Go on.’
‘Thanks. I understand that recently a document was drawn up, on the instructions of the two gentlemen, to pave the way for a bequest they intended to make to the Faculty of Advocates. I understand also that you were the witness to their signatures.’
‘That’s right. We signed it in Hannah Johnson’s office, down in Castle Terrace.’
Skinner paused. ‘In that case, I have to ask you; since then, have you mentioned the existence of this document to anyone else?’
Lord Archibald leaned back in his chair, frowning. ‘No, I don’t think I have.’
‘Are you sure about that?’ The DCC held the law officer in his gaze.
‘Yes,’ he began, scratching his head. He paused. ‘No, hold on; I did discuss it with Norman.’
‘In what context, exactly?’
‘I just happened to mention that I had done a piece of business for his father. Norman said, “What piece of business was that, then?” and I told him. I assume that he knew about it.’
‘Did you mention simply the existence of the minute of agreement or its content?’
‘Its content.’ The Lord Advocate gazed at his friend, thoughtfully. ‘It’s a funny old world, Bob,’ he said. ‘Not so long ago, I was cross-examining you in this room. Now it seems that it’s the other way around.’
Skinner smiled briefly, but ignored the comment. ‘Did you mention specifically the powers of executry and attorney contained in the minute?’
‘Well yes, I suppose I did.’
The policeman looked out of the window for a moment. ‘Shit,’ he whispered.
‘Archie, I’m sorry to have to tell you but in both murders there’s a pretty strong chain of circumstance pointing towards a suspect.’
‘Go on,’ said Lord Archibald. He seemed to sag into his chair. ‘Tell me . . . as if you need to.’
‘Norman King.’
In an instant, the Lord Advocate’s face seemed to turn as white as his hair. ‘Are you sure?’
