along to my office and tell me what the medics are saying about the Bandit.’
They walked along the corridor and into the DCC’s room, overlooking the driveway that led up to the building. ‘He’s been signed off for another month,’ said McGuire, as he closed the door, ‘by Kevin O’Malley, no less. Severe post-traumatic depression, he calls it.’
‘Prognosis?’
‘Not good. I called Kevin after Brian showed me the report. He says that he’s more or less collapsed in on himself. If he’s ever ready to return to duty, it won’t be to CID but to a no-hassle desk job. He’s not far off recommending that we retire him on health grounds. I admit that I was sceptical about him for a while, but not any more. I’m convinced that he’s genuinely sick.’
‘That’s two empty chairs down in Leith, then.’
‘Sammy Pye’s down there now sitting in one of them as acting DI, taking over from Stevie. If you agree I’ve got a mind to make it permanent.’
‘I’ve got no problem with that; I’ll attend to the formalities. What about Mackenzie’s post?’
‘Maybe we don’t fill it. We can’t bump Sammy up to DCI straight away, but he’s a good operator, and capable of running the division, with Neil overseeing him.’
‘Will Wilding be pissed off at being passed over?’
‘If he is, he’ll get over it, but I didn’t get any hint of that when I called him to tell him that Sammy was on his way. He sounded relieved, if anything. He’s still very upset. He thinks he should have been there, and that if he had he’d have held Stevie back.’
‘Like hell he would,’ Skinner exclaimed. ‘He’d have been through that door half a second after him and we’d have two dead officers. Mario, I think you and I should take a run down to Queen Charlotte Street, pay a visit on them.’
‘Let them see we care, you mean, boss?’
‘Exactly. But more than that, I want to run my eye over the investigation, to see if anything jumps out at me. Come on, we’ll take my car.’
The DCC slipped on his jacket and led the way downstairs. He drove smoothly out into Carrington Road, turning left at the end to avoid as much of the Monday-morning traffic as he could. They had cleared the second set of lights on Ferry Road when it occurred to him that McGuire had not spoken since they left Fettes. He glanced across at him. ‘Something on your mind?’ he asked.
‘I think you know. Maggie.’
‘Yeah. It’s not good, is it? Not the sort of thing you ever need, but right now . . . But she’ll get through it, Mario. You have to believe that, and let her see that you do.’
‘Sure, and I will. It doesn’t stop me being scared, though.’
‘Me neither. But she isn’t: as always she’s positive, and ready to tackle it as soon as she can.’
‘I know, but she’s realistic too. Yesterday morning, before she made us leave, she took me to one side and said that if she doesn’t make it, she wants Paula and me to raise the baby. She didn’t tell you that, did she?’
‘No,’ Skinner admitted, ‘she didn’t; but that’s just her being practical, dealing with the situation up front so that she has nothing to take her mind off her recovery. What did you say?’
‘I told her that we would.’
‘And Paula?’ Skinner murmured.
‘To be honest with you, we would both love a kid. Maggie knew that before she asked us.’
There was no more to be said, and so the rest of the short journey was spent in silence, until they drew up in the car park behind the old Leith police station, where they startled a middle-aged constable who was taking a cigarette break. At once, he crushed it underfoot, saluted and opened the back door for them.
They made their way unannounced to the CID suite. Pye was seated at the desk that had been Stevie Steele’s; he stood as Skinner and McGuire entered. Wilding, Montell and Singh all followed suit, but the DCC waved them down. ‘Relax, gentlemen,’ he told them. ‘This is an informal visit, to assure you of our support, and to make an announcement. Sammy’s here as acting DI at the moment, but I can tell you all now that he will be confirmed in post very soon.’ He looked at the new inspector. ‘Do you have everything you need?’
‘More or less, sir,’ Pye replied. ‘Ray’s put a report on the file of his visit to London, and of the interview with the man Barker. The ballistics people have run tests on the gun recovered at Ballester’s cottage, and confirmed it as the murder weapon. When I reported that to the fiscal, he said that’s all he needs to wind up the investigation and make a recommendation to the Lord Advocate that he set up an FAI into the four shootings. The only thing I don’t have yet is Ballester’s computer. There was a small war over that, but a truce has been called.’
‘What do you mean?’ asked McGuire.
‘Instead of taking it to their lab, the Northumbria technicians did the job on site, and left it there. When our procurator fiscal visited the scene, he picked it up and brought it back to Edinburgh with him. When the coroner in Berwick heard, he screamed bloody murder and said he had first call on it, and that we couldn’t have it until he was finished.’
‘Fuck that for a game of soldiers.’
‘He’s got a point, though.’
‘So has Gregor Broughton. The coroner was entitled to hold it for fingerprint comparison, but once that was done it should be passed it to us.’
‘But the coroner says that he’ll need to produce it for the jury at his inquest, so that they can actually see the suicide message.’
‘So what’s the solution?’
‘A simple one at the end of the day, thanks to the DCC down there; he wound up refereeing. The entire contents are being copied on to another hard disk. I’m keeping that and the original’s going back down to England.’
‘Thank the Lord for sensible old Les Cairns,’ said Skinner. ‘Sometimes these coroners think they’re more important than anybody else in the whole wide world.’
He looked at the detective sergeant. ‘Ray, how are you?’
‘I’m all right, sir,’ Wilding replied, ‘but thanks for asking. I appreciate it.’
‘That’s good. No guilt, do you hear me? There’s nothing you could have done, and there’s nothing you can do that’ll bring him back, so don’t dwell on what might have happened.’ He paused and smiled. ‘Who was she anyway?’
The sergeant blinked. ‘How did you . . .?’ He glared at Singh. ‘Tarvil,’ he began.
‘DC Singh is innocent.’ Skinner laughed. ‘Maggie’s guess was right on the money, that’s all.’
‘DI Stallings, sir, Becky; she was our escort down there. She and I sort of made a date for afterwards, and Stevie let me keep it.’
‘When did you get back, Ray?’ Griff Montell asked.
‘I caught the last plane out of Stansted on Saturday night. Becky got me on it.’
The South African smiled, and pointed a finger at Singh, who glowered back at him.
‘She’s going to be in demand,’ said Pye, ignoring the exchange.
Wilding stared at him. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Like I said, there’s going to be a formal inquest into Stevie’s death,’ the acting DI replied. ‘It’s English law. DI Stallings is a witness to the events that led up to it. She’ll be called. Apart from that, though, there’ll be our standard internal investigation into an officer fatality. For that she’ll need to be interviewed, formally, and so will you.’
‘That’s absolutely right,’ McGuire confirmed. ‘And I’m not sending two officers down to London when I can bring one person up here.’
‘Call her,’ Skinner told Wilding, ‘and explain the situation, although she may have worked it out for herself. Tell her I’ll be requesting that she be seconded to us for a period to help us prepare for both inquiries.’
‘She wants to come to the funeral.’
‘I’ll make sure that her secondment covers it.’
‘Thanks, sir.’
‘Don’t thank me: it’s necessary. It isn’t about you: it’s about proper procedure.’
He looked up as the door opened, and Detective Inspector Arthur Dorward stepped into the office, holding a bag in one hand and a big brown envelope in the other. His red eyebrows rose when he saw the DCC and the head
