‘So, putting it as delicately as I can, Sammy,’ Wilding grinned, ‘you’re leaving me fuck all to go on.’
‘Not quite. You’ve got the weird Mr Smith’s vague recollection of having seen the suspect before. Against that, you’ve got a conflict between him and Starr over his age. I haven’t made up my mind how reliable either of them are.’
‘Is it worth much more effort, do you think? I mean, the robbery failed and the perpetrator’s been punished pretty effectively. What would you do if you were staying here?’
‘I’d probably dump it in my boss’s lap,’ Pye answered, ‘and tell him to decide. You’re right, Ray: there’s been justice done, of a sort. My only niggle is a personal one. I really don’t like that bastard Starr. I’ve had this mad scenario in my head, where we arrest the robber, he gets a soft judge to give him probation, and he gets legal aid to sue Starr in the civil court.’
‘And probably gets one pound compensation from the jury for the loss of his finger.’
‘Sure.’ Pye sighed. ‘I told you it was a mad idea. Ah, you know what really bugs me, Ray? It’s the idea of my last investigation in this place being written off as unsolved.’
Wilding patted him on the shoulder. ‘Take it on the chin, Sammy. When you’re head of CID in ten years’ time, nobody will remember a thing about it.’
‘The man with the missing finger will. And that little bastard Starr will probably still be telling the story at dinner parties!’f’
Eight
’Are you sure about this?’
‘Funny,’ said Sarah Grace Skinner to her husband. ‘I was going to ask you exactly the same thing.’
‘You first.’
‘Yes, I am. I’ve spent a lot of time lately asking myself why we got married in the first place, and I haven’t come up with the answer.’
‘We thought we were in love.’
‘I reckon it was more a case of us hoping that we were.’
‘Maybe we should have thought more about the age difference.’
‘That’s never been a factor, not as far as I’m concerned at any rate. No, Bob, we both brought baggage with us. You were still fixated with your dead wife; I was trying to forget Ron Neidholm. I’d tried in vain to forget him with a few men in New York before I came to Scotland. With you, I thought I’d succeeded. I suppose that was it; that was why I said “yes” when you asked me.’
‘When did the memory come back?’
‘The first time I fell pregnant. I found myself thinking,
‘You’ve said it all, really. Baggage, mine just as much as yours.’
‘Suppose I did change my mind, and said I wanted us to carry on?’
‘I think you know I’d never leave you and the kids.’
‘Yes, I do. That’s why I have to go.’
‘Okay, let’s call Mitch Laidlaw back in and sign this thing.’
Bob rose and left the meeting room, returning a few minutes later with a fresh-faced, heavily built man, and a woman in her thirties. ‘I’m glad you could do this for us, Mitchell,’ said Sarah, as the solicitor took a seat opposite her at the oak table.
‘Not at all. It’s the least I could do for friends in these circumstances: even though your divorce will be on grounds of irretrievable breakdown, the court must still be satisfied that the children’s interests are being looked after, and it’s required to approve the custody arrangements. The fact that I’m acting for both of you in drafting this agreement will impress them. If you’re ready to sign, please do so where indicated. My secretary will witness both signatures.’ He watched as both Skinners put their names to the document, which set out the division of their property, and the arrangements for the care and upbringing of their children.
When it was done, Bob pushed the paper across to the secretary, who added her name. ‘What about the divorce?’ he asked.
Laidlaw waited until his secretary had left the room. ‘Once you’ve been separated for two years, you can apply for divorce in Scotland. I’m not an expert in US law, but I believe that the situation would be the same in New York State, as Sarah, even though she’s an American citizen, would have to establish a period of residency there before she could file.’
‘What if the ground was adultery?’ The question made Bob turn almost involuntarily and look at his wife.
‘If it was, you could proceed straight away,’ the solicitor replied. ‘Are you saying that is a possibility?’
‘Yes. I’d be prepared to admit to it.’
‘Wait a minute, Sarah,’ Bob exclaimed. ‘That isn’t necessary. I’m not pushing for a quick divorce.’
‘Maybe I am, though,’ she countered. ‘In a few weeks I’m going to be living in New York, alone. I want to put this marriage to bed so I can be free, completely free, as soon as I can. Do you have anything against that?’
‘No, but . . . Mitch, could there be publicity? Wouldn’t it have to go to court?’
‘If it’s uncontested, it would be done by affidavit. Nobody would have to give evidence under oath or anything like that.’
‘See?’ Sarah said. ‘In that case, Mitch, we’ll take that option. I’ll give you all the information you need. Let’s get it over with as soon as we can.’
Nine
In the rooftop restaurant, Paula Viareggio gazed across the table at the two men opposite. ‘When I look back at you characters fifteen years ago,’ she said, ‘I see the two widest wide boys I’ll ever see in my life. Honest to God, Lou, they were known in every bar and disco in Edinburgh.’
‘Known and loved,’ Neil McIlhenney interjected. ‘The owners smiled when we went in their places, and the bouncers breathed that bit easier, because they knew there wouldn’t be any trouble that night.’
‘Yes,’ Mario McGuire added, ‘and how do you come to remember all that way back? Let me remind you: it’s because you were tagging along with us, more often than not, playing the little Italian princess with her two minders.’
‘I was not!’ Paula protested. ‘My heart used to sink every time I was in a place and you came in. The number of times you ruined my chances of getting off with someone . . .’
‘Rubbish! The number of times you ruined mine by turning up at my elbow just as I was about to score.’
She grinned, her silver hair shimmering in the candle-light. ‘I only ever did that when I thought you were about to make a serious mistake. I knew who the slags were, you didn’t: I saved you from countless erotic diseases.’
‘Don’t you mean exotic diseases?’
‘Same thing, I guess.’
‘Remember that night with the Spanish girl, in that pub in Rose Street?’ Neil chuckled.
‘What was that?’ Louise McIlhenney asked.
‘Mario was doing really well with this lass, a real wee stunner, she was, and Paula moved in to do her thing. She thought that she was being real clever, speaking Italian as she tells Mario what a slag the girl was. But Italian and Spanish aren’t all that far apart as languages, so she understood most of it. She went ballistic, and Mario had to separate the two of them. The lass threw her drink over him, kicked him in the shins, and stormed out into the night. It took us months to live that down.’
‘Why did you catch the flak for it? You weren’t involved.’
‘If someone threw paint at either of us, the other one got splashed too. That’s the way it was. Paula was
