Roach was near apoplectic and this was obviously a sore point between them that, in normal times, McLevy would have enjoyed witnessing till the cows came home.
But he had an appointment to keep.
‘I’m sure the lieutenant would have led you in the right direction, constable,’ he ventured with an emollience which took Mulholland’s breath away, ‘as he has done with my good self, so many times.’
He inclined his head gravely towards the lieutenant who responded in kind. McLevy tried for another.
At times like these ye cannae have too many nods, was his thought.
‘And I must ask you, sir, if I may resume my activities in the parish? Crime never sleeps.’
Roach pondered. ‘How are your scrapes healing up?’ he enquired of the injuries McLevy had so recently incurred in the line of duty.
‘On the mend, sir. On the mend.’
‘Then, you may resume,’ said Roach. ‘And take Mulholland with you; he is of no further use to me.’
Then, as they moved to the door, Roach surprised himself.
‘You have my thanks, James,’ he said. ‘Only you could have brought this off. Therein lies your strength and your potential downfall.’
Then the dark Presbyterian fear of being too effusive seized him, and he added a footnote to his thanks.
‘You don’t deserve them, but you have them anyway.’
‘In that case I may ask a favour of ye, sir?’
‘Ask away.’
‘I know Constable Mulholland desires a small leave of absence to attend the betrothal of a close relative. I wonder, might we spare him for a few days?’
‘I shall try to notice his absence,’ muttered Roach, which was his way of responding in the positive.
As McLevy and a dazed Mulholland were about to pass through the door, Roach could not resist a last dig.
‘And Mulholland? Mrs Roach still has her eye on you for a tenor voice. Let us hope you survive the scrutiny. She the blackbird, you the worm!’
They closed the door on the snort of his laughter and McLevy hummed contentedly under his breath as the two surveyed the station.
The morning shift had just left, Sergeant Murdoch was contemplating a tin mug of sweet tea and Ballantyne, as befitted the youngest and most recently recruited, was at a table laboriously copying out reports.
He looked up, smiled shyly, and bowed his head in grave acknowledgement of a shared triumph.
McLevy smiled back but there was an element of worry in his eyes. The boy had a gentle and trusting nature, a bad combination for a policeman.
Whereas Mulholland now … a different kettle.
The inspector turned to regard the wary face of his constable.
Beat him to the punch. Just for mischief.
‘What was all that about diagrams?’
Mulholland moved them away from Roach’s door just in case the lieutenant had his ear against the panelling.
‘The man is all theory,’ he muttered. ‘Good enough behind the desk and a fine superior officer, don’t mistake me now – ’
‘I wouldn’t dream of such a thing.’
‘But – he thinks everything can be solved with a pen! Names here, times there, arrows pointing, lines running like a chicken with its head chopped off. It got us nowhere. I mean …’
Mulholland looked down at McLevy from a great height.
‘… at least you think you know what you’re doing, sir.’
‘Thank you, Mulholland.’ McLevy rubbed at his eyes as if to hold back a well of appreciation. ‘I shall treasure that remark till the end of my days.’
He made to turn away but the constable had more to say.
Here it comes, thought the inspector.
‘How did you know I needed time away, and the reason for it, if I may so ask?’
‘You may.’
McLevy assumed an air of gravity, as if examining a witness in court.
‘Your Aunt Katie sent you a card, did she not?’
‘She did indeed.’
‘On that card were the precise details of the wedding and your requested presence, were they not?’
‘They were so.’
‘That card was sticking out of your coat pocket as it lay on the hook, was it not?’
‘It might have been.’
‘Some careless person, Sergeant Murdoch possibly, must have brushed against the coat and dislodged the card. I found it on the floor, and, returning same, could not fail to notice what was writ thereupon.’
‘Thereupon?’
‘In a nutshell.’
McLevy looked innocently into the hard suspicious eyes of his constable, then decided to take the offensive.
‘Therefore when you were sookin’ up tae the lieutenant I knew exactly your motive. Why did ye not confide in me?’
Mulholland stepped back a little.
‘I … I … didn’t think you’d have an interest.’
‘Ye mean ye thought you’d find a sleekit way to avoid me altogether. Never mind, let that be and answer me the following question, but come up honest this time!’
How is it, when dealing with McLevy, you always ended up, no matter where you started from, at the back of the position you had formerly occupied?
‘Go ahead,’ Mulholland said glumly.
‘Ye had a chance to redeem yourself, like me. Ye could have kissed his backside over these diagrams, why did ye not so?’
‘Because it was a murder investigation,’ came the reply. ‘And some things cannot be passed.’
Not for a moment did McLevy indicate the pleasure he derived from that rejoinder. But he was glad he had pressed the favour out of Roach. Very glad.
‘I’ll make a policeman out of you yet, Mulholland.’
‘I look forward to that, sir.’
For a moment they shared an ironic appreciation of each other’s faults and virtues, then McLevy moved abruptly away towards the station door.
‘Ye can thank me for my intercession by the purchase of a hooker o’ whisky at the Old Ship the morrow night, but for the moment I have an appointment to keep.’
‘Not another secret mission?’
The question brought McLevy round. His face sombre.
‘Not exactly. But it is something I must do. In common with the man whose life I took, I do not enjoy loose ends.’
Then he was gone.
Mulholland had come out of it smelling of roses. He had got his leave and the lieutenant would soon forget his chagrin. One decent putt would see to that.
He was due some time off the following day and though the morrow night was now taken up with McLevy at the Old Ship, the constable still maintained an afternoon assignation with a certain young lady.
There was a touch of spring in the air. He would lift his voice in song.
