10
Bob Skinner looked at his sons as they played on the grass, on the lawn which overlooked the sea. It had been a hot day and it was still warm inside the house. Normally, young Jazz would have been in bed at a few minutes after nine, but that evening he had been even more full of energy than usual, by no means ready for sleep.
Bob had given up all thoughts of Saturday golf; instead he had visited Chief Constable Sir James Proud, to brief him on the facts — all the brutal, bloody facts — of Alec Smith's death. Proud Jimmy had been desperate for a role in the aftermath, and had been insistent at first on going to North Berwick to see for himself. However Skinner had persuaded him that Maggie Rose had had enough top-level presence at her headquarters; he had made the point also that if the head of the force were to visit this murder scene when he did not routinely turn up at others, then he might be accused of implying that the killing of an ex-policeman warranted special treatment.
Instead, the Chief had decided that he would visit Alec Smith's estranged wife, whom he had met once at a formal police event. Content with that, Skinner had run the former Mrs Smith to ground through the Police Pensions Office records and, after making sure that she would be home, had called up a car to drive Sir James to Penicuik, where she and her new lover had settled.
'Just remember, Jimmy,' he had warned, as the patrol vehicle had been about to leave. 'Keep it a bit formal.'
'Come on, this is a sympathy visit, Bob. Why should I do that?'
'Because the woman hasn't been eliminated as a suspect. You'd better ask her when you see her whether she and Alec were on reasonable terms… and just find out quietly where she and her boyfriend were last night.'
Proud Jimmy had driven off, secretly pleased by the opportunity to be a detective, a job he had never done during his long and distinguished police career. As the car turned and disappeared from his sight, it was Skinner who had been left feeling useless. He would have liked nothing more than to go back to North Berwick and take part in the house-to-house canvass, or to beat Mario McGuire to the punch by beginning the trawl through Smith's Special Branch career, but he knew that he had to take the advice he had given the Chief about interference in the investigation.
So he had gone home, switching himself off from the murder hunt as best he could by taking Mark and James Andrew to the busy beach, swimming with them in the incoming tide, and towing them along in their yellow inflatable dinghy.
He had expected to find Sarah at home when they returned but, instead, Alex was in the kitchen, feeding her baby half-sister from a carefully prepared bottle. 'Any word from your step-mother?'
'Yes, she called from her car. She was on her way to catch Maggie at North Berwick with the p.m. report.'
Now, in the evening, he waved to the boys from the doorway. 'Time's up, lads.' Jazz looked at him, angrily; for a moment he thought that they were in for a crying match. But Mark spoke quietly in his adoptive brother's ear as he helped him down from the top level of the colourful climbing frame, and the toddler nodded, breaking into a smile as he ran towards his father.
Different boys in many ways, Bob mused, yet they couldn't be closer. Blood brothers, you might say, without the blood link.
Sarah was in the nursery, settling Seonaid down for the night, as he ushered the pair towards the shower. She had come home, just after seven, and had gone straight into the bath — her routine after a post-mortem examination — after seeing Alex off to Edinburgh, and her Saturday night date with a couple of girlfriends.
'Our older daughter seemed pretty bubbly tonight,' she remarked. 'I think seeing Andy again may have had something to do with it. You don't suppose there's a chance…?'
He shook his head, firmly. 'Not a prayer. It's good that they can be friends, but what happened will always prevent them from being as they were. I know Andy almost as well as I know her; he thought she was perfect, and it nearly broke him when he found out that she wasn't.
'Twice now, that's happened to him with women. No wonder he's back to playing the safety in numbers game.'
'Is he?' Sarah asked, surprised.
Her husband chuckled, quietly, careful not to disturb the baby. 'Is he ever! Christ, this morning, I tried phoning him just after seven, after I heard mention of an incident at North Berwick on the headlines. He wasn't in. But last night he turned up at the crime scene with Karen Neville driving him, and they left together.'
'That doesn't mean anything.'
Bob tapped the side of his nose, knowingly. 'Trust me, I'm a detective. Those two are of the same spirit; both determined not to be tied down in case they get hurt again. I tell you, my love, Andy's black book is legendary. I even know someone who's keen to get in it.'
'Who's that?'
'Ms Ruth McConnell, no less. Just lately, since her big romance split up, I've caught her giving Andy the odd thoughtful glance.'
'If that's right, will you warn her off?'
'Do you think she'd thank me? Do you think it's any of my business?'
'She is your secretary.'
'So? Does that give me seigneur rights, or what?'
'It had better not!' She was smiling, but he changed the subject nonetheless: dangerous ground, still, for them.
'What about Alec Smith then?' he said. 'You still haven't told me about the autopsy. Christ, autopsy indeed… listen to me, picking up your Americanisms.'
Sarah stepped out of the nursery, switching on the baby alarm, but leaving the door ajar also. Bob glanced into the bathroom, where Mark and Jazz were both in the shower, covered in foam.
'It was a difficult one,' she said. 'The man was so badly brutalised. The head injuries didn't kill him though; they were inflicted post-mortem. No, Mr Smith died of shock; his heart just packed in. I took a very careful look at the video the sicko made of the killing, and I could see the moment when it happened. If you take another look you'll see it too.'
He winced. 'I promise you this, my darling girl, I will never look at that video again.'
'By the way, I discovered how he was overpowered. He was-'
The telephone rang out, interrupting her. Bob stepped quickly into their bedroom and answered, before Seonaid could be disturbed. 'Skinner.'
'Bob, it's Andy. Sorry to disturb you yet again, but what a bloody day I've had! As if the late call last night about Alec Smith wasn't enough, tonight I'm at a party next door and someone spots a floater in the Water of bloody Leith! I had to go in there and check it; I've only just dried off.'
'Murder?' the DCC asked. 'Aye I suppose it must be. Not suicide, anyway. You'd have to be trying really hard to drown yourself in that stream.'
'You could manage it if you were able to tie yourself up in a carpet then hop in. But this one didn't. Someone had some fun with him before he put him in the water. Pringle's on his way with a team and we've closed the road around the area. I've had to empty the downstairs bar of the Hilton Hotel too; it's not far from the scene, and we don't want an audience.'
'What does it look like?'
'A gang thing, maybe. Time will tell.'
'Let Pringle get on with it then. I'll give him a call tomorrow.' Skinner chuckled. 'Buggered up your Saturday night, eh? Still, it'll have kept you out of mischief.' In the silence that followed, he heard a female voice say, 'Andy, are these the jeans you meant?'
He laughed again, loud enough to make Sarah throw him a warning frown from the bedroom doorway. 'Ah, Jeez. I should have known better.'
