'Nothing. Come on in next door, there's something I have to ask you.'
She flashed her eyes at him. 'The answer's 'yes',' she joked.
'It had better not be.' The smile left her face as she saw his; she followed him inside and upstairs. As he stepped into the living room he saw his TAM flashing to indicate a waiting message. His pager was showing a light too, as it lay on the sideboard beside a copy of the Evening News.
He picked up the newspaper and showed it to Rhian. 'See that? It's a story about our investigation into the murder of the man in the Water of Leith. My Press Officer gave the media a statement when we issued our photo fit. It was very carefully drafted and cleared with Superintendent Pringle, who's in charge of the investigation. We have to be very careful what we say to the press, for all sorts of reasons, but most of all for fear of prejudicing a future trial.
'Now listen to this bit. Senior officers investigating the case admitted privately that they are pessimistic over their chances of ever identifying the mystery man, far less finding his killers.
'No senior officer has ever admitted any such fucking thing to a journo, privately or otherwise. But I seem to remember saying something like that to you the other night, in bed. Now let me read you this: The victim 's face was battered to a pulp, he had multiple fractures and several toes and fingers had been cut off.
'The only people who would know that were those who saw the body: police, paramedics, and those who were at the post-mortem examination, like you.' She made to turn, as if to walk across towards the double doors to the balcony. 'No,' he said, firmly but not shouting. 'Don't turn your back on me. Look me in the eye.' She did as she was told and he fixed his gaze on her.
'Now I want you to tell me straight out, and no lies… I'm an experienced detective; only a real pro could hope to get away with lying to me. Are you the source of that information?'
She said nothing. 'Come on, Rhian, out with it. Did you feed our pillow-talk, and the things you saw at the p.m., to the bloody press? And don't think you can hide behind the notion that journalists always protect their sources; not from me, they don't. Now out with it.'
She looked as young and vulnerable as had her sister, a few minutes earlier, as she nodded. He knew that he was giving the Lewis girls a hard night. He felt many things, sorrow and sympathy among them, but betrayal overcame them all; he pressed on.
'Who was your contact? The guy whose by-line's on the story?'
'Yes,' she whispered.
'Fucking marvellous; his brother-in-law's a detective sergeant and Pringle's already given him the third degree. What's your relationship with this Paul Blacklock?'
'He's an ex.'
'Ex?'
'Yes. It's over, Andy, really.'
'Really, So when did you see him to give him this information?'
'Yesterday afternoon.'
'Where?'
'At his flat.'
'His flat? But he's married to Jack McGurk's sister.'
'Yes, but he has a place in Cockburn Street. He uses it when he's on really early shifts.'
'And what took you to his flat… or did you just go there to give him that information.'
'I went there to break it off with him — for good.'
'And how did you break it off with him? Vertically or horizontally?' She answered him, by biting her lip, unconsciously.
'Jesus,' he whispered, 'you gave him one for the road.'
He drew her eyes back to his. 'Why the hell did you tell him all that stuff?' he demanded.
'I don't know. I just started talking about you, and I told him about what happened on Saturday, and how you handled it and what you'd said about the man, and what I'd seen at the post-mortem…
'Andy,' she insisted, 'I never thought for a second that he'd use it.'
'Why not? He's used you, hasn't he? Now did you tell the bastard anything else under his gentle interrogation?' 'No, nothing.'
'Nothing I may have said about the Alec Smith case, for example?'
'No, really, no.'
'That's some consolation.' He moved towards her and took her arm. 'Come on, you'd better go next door.'
She looked at him. 'Andy, I'm sorry. I was stupid. I promise I won't…'
He looked at her, and saw that her eyes were glistening. He thought of Friday night and of himself with Karen, and he almost melted. Perhaps he could have changed the course of his life, right there, by leaving one question unasked. But his character, as well as his training, forbade that. He knew that secrets make rotten foundations.
'One more thing. Margot told me you bet her that you could pull me. Is that true?'
She nodded.
'Well, you'd better not take her money. I guess you've lost.' She came to him and put her head on his shoulder. 'Give me a chance, Andy, please.'
'I did, but you fucked it up. With me you only get one shot.' She pushed him away and ran down the staircase, ran out of the house. He heard his door slam, then hers. He thought about the two sisters together, at each other's throats. Something made him pick up the phone and dial their number. Margot answered.
'Give me Rhian,' he said coldly. He waited for a few seconds, until he heard a mumbled 'Yes?'
'It's me. Listen, I'm sorry I was so rough. Will you be okay?'
'Yes. I'll be fine. My sister may not, but I will.'
'Don't blame Margot. You know that wouldn't be fair.'
'Okay, I promise.' She hesitated, then spoke again, tentatively, almost pleading. 'Andy, can I come back in? Can we talk it through again?'
He hesitated. 'Rhian, I…' A bell rang, near him. 'Shit, that's someone at the front door. No, please leave it for now. Let's give each other some breathing space.' He put the phone down and jogged downstairs.
When he opened the door, Maggie Rose and Mario McGuire were standing on the step. The Inspector was carrying a large briefcase. He stared at them. 'Hello you two,' he said. 'What the hell brings you here?'
'Didn't you get any of our messages?' Rose asked.
'I'm sorry. I've been busy with some personal stuff. Come on in; straight up those stairs and into the living room.' He followed them and pointed them at his sofa. 'Where's the fire, then?'
McGuire tapped his briefcase and began to open it. 'In here, sir. You'd better sit down yourself
Wife and husband took the Head of CID slowly, meticulously, through the Alec Smith papers, pointing out the gaps, and explaining their theory, that the numbered, dated photographs were in fact an index for an undiscovered stockpile of material. When they were finished, he leaned back in his chair and looked at them.
'Okay,' he said. 'You were right to come here. I buy your theory too. Now that you've told me, what do you need from me?'
McGuire replied. 'I have two possible enemies of Alec from the SB files; their names are Gus Morrison and Lawrence Scotland. They need to be lifted quickly, interrogated and, if necessary, given psych, tests. But I have to get after finding these other photographs and papers, if they exist.
'I need you to give me someone solid to take care of Morrison and Scotland, while I do that.'
'I can fix that for you, no problem.' Martin chuckled, but to neither Maggie nor Mario did he seem to be laughing. 'I've got the very man for that job; someone who's really good at sweating hard cases like these. Have your files sent along to me in the morning. Once I've got rid of some other business, I'll take care of them both myself.'
24
