‘How did he die?’
‘It seems that he fell off the high board. Our guess is that he had help.’
‘Was it just him?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘What about Mr Manson? Marlon wasnae just his driver, he was his minder as well.’
‘No, Manson wasn’t there; we still have to speak to him. But he’ll keep. Bella, do you know if Marlon might have upset him in some way?’
‘Naw. No chance of that. Marlon worships the ground that man walks on. And Tony,’ she corrected herself, ‘Mr Manson, likes him too. This is someone else.’ Her expression changed, turned into one of pure savagery. ‘That bastard Holmes! I should have done that fuckin’ job myself, no’ trusted our Billy!’
‘Stop right there, Bella,’ I warned her. ‘Whatever Holmes was in the past, he’s out of it now. The man can’t even wipe his own arse. Now, if you’ve got any idea who might have done this, tell us now, and we’ll nail them. But you do nothing yourself; you’ve lost enough of your family to the life you chose to live.’
Her eyes blazed up at me. ‘Chose? You fuckin’ ignorant toffee-nosed bastard. You come and live here. You bring your family here and see what sort of a fuckin’ choice you’ve got.’
I didn’t have a glib response to that one. All I could offer was, ‘People do move out, Bella.’
‘Aye, most of them in the back of a Panda car, the rest in boxes, like ma boys and ma brothers. Thank God our Mia’s made it.’
‘Where is she?’ I asked. ‘Married?’
‘She’s had better luck than that. She’s got a good job; she’s on the radio.’
Back then, I was a cynic, so my life wasn’t full of surprises, but every now and then… I couldn’t hold back a gasp. ‘Eh? As what?’
‘She’s a presenter. A disc jockey, like. She calls herself Mia Sparkles. Watson or Spreckley didnae sound showbiz enough.’
‘Where? What station’s she on?’
‘Airburst,’ Martin volunteered.
I looked at him. ‘Never heard of it.’
‘Maybe not, boss, but I’ll bet your daughter has. There were some new licences issued the year before last; it started broadcasting last August. They’re targeting a young audience. The advertising profile’s ten to twenty-five. It’s doing well, from what I’ve read. Mrs Watson’s daughter does what they call the “School’s Out” slot, three hours, four to seven.’
‘You sound like a regular listener.’
He shrugged his shoulders, encased in a shiny new leather jacket. ‘Why not? I still fit their listener profile… just.’
‘Where can we contact Mia, Bella?’ I asked.
‘You don’t,’ she growled. ‘She’ll hear this from me.’
‘Were she and her brother close?’
‘Aye, of course they were.’ She didn’t convince me. If the family unit was so tight-knit, why was Mia missing from the sideboard?
‘Then we’ll need to interview her,’ I told her.
‘Well, you can find her at the station, I suppose. I’m no’ helpin’ yis.’
On another day I might have pushed her harder, but I let it go. ‘We’ll do that. There’s something else; we’ll need a formal identification of Marlon’s body. Either you or Mia could do that.’
‘Ah’ll do it!’ she said, firmly. ‘Where is he?’
‘In the mortuary. We’ll take you there just now if you like.’
She snorted. ‘Ah’m no’ leaving here wi’ you two bastards. Ah ken where it is. Ah was there before, for oor Billy, remember.’
I nodded. ‘If that’s what you want. I’ll delay the post-mortem until ten tomorrow morning. Be there for nine thirty, please.’
She stood, and we turned to leave. Unexpectedly, I felt a sudden rush of admiration for her stoicism. ‘Bella,’ I murmured, ‘I’m sorry.’
She sighed. ‘No, you’re fuckin’ not. A year from now you’ll have forgotten about Marlon, just like everybody’s forgotten about poor wee Ryan, and ma brothers.’
I didn’t tell her, but she was wrong. I’ve never forgotten, not a single one of them, nor any of the others.
The young team was still outside, standing across the street from my car. I walked around it slowly, examining it. It was spotless; I wouldn’t have been surprised if they had polished it. I nodded approval.
The leader walked across. ‘Okay then, boss?’
‘Fine.’
‘What’s in it for us?’
‘My appreciation.’ His eyes narrowed, angrily. ‘Listen, son,’ I went on, ‘and think about this. There are people in this street that are capable of killing you if they see you taking money from a cop. That’s one reason for my hand staying in my pocket. The other is that if I did pay your lot, you’d take it as a licence to extort money from any dumb stranger who parked here. I will give you this, though.’ Quickly, so that none of the others could see, I slipped one of my business cards into the pocket of his shirt. ‘What’s your name?’ I asked him.
‘Clyde Houseman.’
‘Well, Clyde, if it ever occurs to you that it might be a good idea to get out of this hellhole and get a life that gives you a chance to be different, you call me, on one of those numbers, and I’ll show you how.’
I unlocked the pristine Beamer, started the engine, and drove off. In the mirror, I saw that Clyde was still looking after me as I turned at the junction and passed out of his sight.
Three
I dropped Martin at the St Leonards police office, where Jay’s team were based. I looked into the CID suite, but its detective superintendent was long gone, and the place would have been empty, save for a young woman PC who was covering the phones, Martin’s job, I guessed, if I hadn’t snaffled him.
‘When do you finish?’ I asked her. She looked at me, severely, as if I was going to ask her on a date. ‘Just curious,’ I added.
‘Officially I haven’t started yet,’ she replied. ‘I’m night shift, ten to six, but I got here twenty minutes early and DS Bryce borrowed me from the front desk.’ She was an attractive girl, in the same age bracket as Martin. Her hair was as distinctively red as his was blond.
‘Coke and Mars bars,’ I said.
‘Excuse me?’
‘Stock up with Coca-Cola and Mars bars. There’s instant energy in both. They’re murder on your teeth, but when you need them they help you make it through the night.’
She threw me a sideways look; I guessed that she gave away her smiles reluctantly. ‘I’ll bear that in mind, Mr… Sorry, I don’t know who you are.’
‘Bob Skinner, DCI, until tomorrow morning, then it’s detective super. I work out of Fettes.’
‘Drugs squad, I assume,’ she added, solemnly. ‘That explains why you know a lot about stimulants.’
‘Most are legal, PC…?’
‘Rose. Margaret Rose.’
‘Have a good night, PC Rose. When you feel your eyelids begin to droop, remember what I told you.’
I told Martin to be at headquarters for half past eight next morning, and to be prepared to witness a post- mortem. ‘Have you been to one before?’ I asked, cautiously. I’d learned the hard way to stand well clear of inexperienced colleagues while watching Joe Hutchinson at work.
He nodded. ‘A couple, with DI Higgins.’
‘See you tomorrow, then.’ I’d noticed before, the guy had vivid green eyes, unusual in itself, but these were
