‘I’ll pass: I’ll have some water from your fridge, though.’
The deputy chief constable frowned. ‘Of course you will. Christ alone knows why they want me on this London operation: I’m so bloody efficient I forgot you’ve chucked caffeine.’ He took a bottle of water from the small cooler beside his desk, and tossed it to McIlhenney, then poured himself a mug of coffee from his filter.
The chief inspector moved to take the chair that faced across the DCC’s desk, but Skinner motioned him towards his informal seating. ‘So,’ he asked, as he settled into the soft leather upholstery, ‘why did you want to see me first, before the other two get here? Is it to talk over the London job?’
‘In a way, a negative sort of way: it’s to tell you that you’re not going.’
McIlhenney’s face was impassive. ‘I see. And are you going to tell me why, sir?’
‘Look, stop the “sir” stuff: there’s no one else here and it makes you sound like you’re in the huff. You’ve no need to be, I promise you.’
‘Okay, but why the change of mind? Has that man O’Malley been saying things he shouldn’t?’
‘No, he hasn’t. Kevin’s report on your counselling session was very positive, not that I ever had any doubt that it would be. I’m not taking you with me because I’ve got more need of you here; it’s as simple as that.’
‘But Special Branch is quiet, now that the last crisis is over and done with.’
Skinner laughed. ‘You can predict when the bird’s going to hit the windmill, can you, Neil? That makes you a better copper than me. No, it’s got nothing to do with SB. It has to do with you and your career. There are two appointments I need to make. Greg Jay’s sudden vanishing trick has left me needing someone to take over command of CID in East and Midlothian.’
‘Yes, so what’s the other?’
‘It’s in Leith.’
‘Leith?’
Skinner nodded. ‘Yes, and don’t act so surprised. You know there’s a head of CID vacancy as well, now that Dan Pringle’s gone, and you know who the grapevine says is favourite for it.’
‘The grapevine gives Maggie Rose a chance, and Brian Mackie, and Alastair Grant too.’
‘Maybe, but it doesn’t know that Maggie’s ruled herself out of consideration.’
‘Has she?’ said McIlhenney, surprised.
‘Yes. I saw her the other day, just to sound her out, mind, not to offer her the job. She told me that she’s happy in uniform, and that if she moved back to CID it would be awkward, now that she’s living with a detective inspector. As for Brian, he’s doing a great job commanding the city division, plus he’s first in line for ACC if Haggerty goes. Alastair? Between ourselves, he’s reached his ceiling.’
‘Which leaves . . .’
‘Your boyhood mate, Mario McGuire. He’s our choice, the chief’s and mine, effective immediately.’
‘Which leads to the vacancy in Leith?’
‘Yes, but . . .’
‘There always is a “but”, isn’t there?’
‘It’s one of life’s immutable laws. In this case it comes about because I’m making some changes in the CID structure. I need more foot-soldiers out there, but there are budget constraints as always. To fund them, I need to cut down on the number of chiefs. That means that there are going to be fewer detective-superintendent posts. Obviously I can’t demote people who are already
‘And Leith’s where it begins?’
‘Exactly.’
‘So?’
‘So I’m putting Bandit Mackenzie in there. He’s fitted into the Drugs Squad well, but with the Scottish Drugs Enforcement Agency making more and more progress, I can get by with a detective inspector in that post.’
McIlhenney scratched his chin. ‘I see. Does that mean you’re working up to telling me that I’m going to Jay’s old job on a level transfer?’
‘Do you want it?’
‘Honestly? I’d rather stay where I am.’
‘That’s not an option: you’ve done your stint in Special Branch. But don’t worry: I was taking the piss about moving you to Dalkeith. Jay’s deputy will step up there. I owe you more than that, for all you’ve done for this force, and for me. I’ve got something in mind for you, but I’ll tell you about it when the others arrive. I wanted you in here first, not just to break it to you that you’re not coming to London with me, but to ask you about Shannon’s vetting.’
‘It’s done, boss, as you asked. You gave us short notice, but Alice Cowan, my assistant, briefed me an hour ago. She’s clean as a whistle, an exemplary officer with nothing in her background that need worry you. She’s firearms qualified and a bloody good shot too, according to the range supervisor.’
‘And the personal thing that we’d heard about?’
‘She’s over that: she has a steady relationship with a man who works in the Bank of Scotland computer department. They’ve been seeing each other for three years.’
‘She’s not likely to get pregnant on me as well, is she?’
‘Not a prayer. She was involved in a road accident when she was fourteen: a drunk driver hit her father’s car. He, the dad, was killed, and she suffered severe abdominal injuries. She recovered, but minus her uterus.’ McIlhenney looked at his friend. ‘What did you mean by “as well”, by the way?’
Skinner blinked. ‘Your wife’s pregnant, isn’t she?’
‘Ah, so that has had something to do with me not going to London?’
‘Of course not, Neil; you’re imagining things.’
‘If you say so, boss. But Lou’ll be pleased, and I’m not imagining that.’
‘I’m glad to hear it. You just tell her that her influence over me had nothing to do with my decision. It was made on purely operational grounds. How are the kids, by the way?’
‘They’re fine. Spence is looking forward to his next adventure, and Lauren’s looking forward to being eighteen, so she can go to university and get out of doing the ironing. Only five more years to go: she’ll be thirteen next week.’
‘Are they pleased about the new baby?’
‘God, yes. Lauren’s funny. She’s about two-thirds woman now, trying to be very mature about it, but the other third kicks in every so often, and the excitement just bursts out of her.’
‘You’re lucky, in that way. My Alex is twenty years older than her blood siblings. She still worships them, mind.’
All at once, McIlhenney’s face grew solemn. ‘Yes, your Alex; and your own bereavement. You know, Bob, I don’t think I’ve ever thanked you properly for the way you supported me when Olive died.’
‘You supported yourself, man. Your friends were just around to help, that’s all. And you have thanked me, by the way you’ve got on with your life. You’ve set an example that I couldn’t live up to.’
‘But you tried your best, and so did Sarah, I’m sure. But if it’s really bust . . .’
‘It’s really bust.’
‘Then Lou and I will be there to support you, whenever you need it.’
‘Cheers, mate.’ Skinner finished his coffee. ‘Better get the other two in: they should be here by now.’ He rose, walked across to his desk, picked up a phone and called Detective Sergeant McGurk, his assistant. ‘Jack, I’m ready for my three-thirty meeting.’ He poured more coffee as he waited. He had barely finished stirring in the milk before the door opened.
Mario McGuire stood aside to usher Dottie Shannon in before him. The inspector looked as if she was doing her best to hide her nerves, and almost succeeded. She wore little makeup, but her short blonde hair was expertly cut. She had replaced her duty uniform with a grey trouser suit and a white shirt. McGuire wore a brown suede bomber jacket and blue denims.
‘Welcome, both of you,’ Skinner greeted them. ‘Comfy seating today,’ he said, ushering them towards McIlhenney. ‘Coffee?’
‘Yes, please, sir,’ Shannon replied, a little nervously.
‘Fine. Mario, pour them, will you? Did you bring what I asked?’
The dark-haired superintendent nodded as he picked up the coffee jug. He waved a brown-paper bag in the
