Skinner put the files back into his attache case. 'I was asked.. . informal y, I stress… by my friend Joe Doherty, the deputy director of the Bureau, to report to him on what I found at the lake.' He glanced at the two agents. 'Correct me if I'm wrong, gentlemen, but when a crime goes interstate, it becomes your responsibility, yes?'
Brand nodded, firmly. 'That is correct, sir.'
'In that ease,' said the Scot, glancing back at Dekker, 'to come back to what I said earlier, you may not need to worry about a turf battle with the State police. I suspect that the FBI may want to take charge of this one.'
The Buffalo Sheriff's expression was one of pure, unadulterated relief; he looked more than ever like a politician rather than a policeman. 'Do you want to cal your friend. Bob,' he asked, 'or will I?'
22
'Seriously though, Andy, is this job not what you choose to make it?' asked Dan Pringle, with a trademark tug at a corner of his heavy moustache.
The outgoing Head of CID looked across the desk at his successor, as if trying to determine whether he was serious. 'That depends entirely on the level of your ambition, my friend. If your main objective is to maximise your pension and get the hell out of here at the earliest opportunity, you would certainly approach it in that frame of mind.
'If, on the other hand, you do not fancy having your door kicked in every other day by a deputy chief constable waving worsening clear-up figures in your face, you'll approach it with just one single objective, that being to make sure that for as long as you're sat in this chair, every CID division is working at its maximum efficiency.'
'Aye,' said Pringle, a slow grin spreading across his face. 'That was more or less what I supposed. So every time you chewed us out at the Monday morning meeting, it was because Big Bob had given you a doing?'
'Not invariably,' Andy Martin answered. 'Most of the time it was to make sure that he didn't give me a doing. Chief Super or not, you do not want his boot on your neck; so, as of next week, when you're sat in this chair you'l find yourself concentrating very hard on avoiding that possibility.'
Pringle gestured over his shoulder with his thumb. 'By kicking the crap out of the likes of Mario here, you mean?'
'Exactly'
'Give me a break!' McGuire protested, from his seat against the wall.
'I'm not even in the job yet and you're getting at me. Give me a chance to make mistakes before you take me to task for them.'
'Why? Have you got any in mind?' asked Martin.
'One or two; just for openers, I was thinking of head-butting my new boss for pinching the best detective sergeant in the division.'
Pringle looked at him, al innocence. 'Big Jack McGurk, you mean?
Christ, and here was me thinking I was going to get away with that without you noticing.'
'Think again then. You're a fucking asset-stripper… with respect… sir.
'I was going to tell you, Mario, honest. I just haven't had an opportunity until now. I know McGurk's good; that's why I took him to the Borders Division in the first place, and that's why I want him in my office when I move up here. There's more to it than that, though; there's his marriage as well. If I leave him down there, that's done for. They've tried hard, but it's just not working just now.'
'What? Are you a social worker, too?'
A flash of real annoyance showed for a second in the older man's eyes.
'No, but I've been long enough in my rank to have become a decent man manager. We al have to learn that skilh mostly the hard way, like you with that bloody Tommy Gavigan. You could leave big Jack down there and he'd do a good job for you, but if I give him a chance to patch things up with his missus, he'l do a better job for me.
'Anyhow, don't get your Calvin rucking Kleins in a twist, you're getting a first-class substitute. Young Sammy Pye's going down to take his place.'
McGuire looked at Martin. The Chief Superintendent nodded. 'That's the game plan,' he confirmed.
'Sam's been here long enough, and he's every bit as good an operator as McGurk. You can take my word for that.'
'That's fine, Andy, but am I going to find myself with another domestic situation there, like Dan did with Jack?'
'What? With Sammy and Ruthie McConnell, you mean? No, not at all; they're getting married in the autumn, and they're going to live in Gorebridge. They can both travel to work easily enough from there.'
Pringle nodded in confirmation, then glanced at Martin. 'What are you and Karen going to do about that, Andy?' he asked. 'Are you two moving house?'
'No choice,' the DCS answered.
'How's Karen doing?' asked McGuire, blowing them away.
'Great,' Martin replied. 'First-rate, blooming, glowing with health and al that stuff… now that she's well past throwing up every morning, that is. She's decided that we're moving to Perth, rather than Dundee.
We're going to look at houses there at the weekend; we've got to sort it out sharpish, either that or put it off for a bit. She's due in a couple of months.'
The big superintendent laughed softly. 'How are you going to get a baby chair into the MGF, Andy?'
'Sore point. The sports car's going down the road; as of next week it's turning into a new Mondeo.'
'Bloody hell! What happened to the Andy Martin we knew, and a thousand women loved?'
'Same as happened to you, McGuire. He met the right woman. Oh aye, and that reminds me. Wil ie Haggerty asked me for the okay to have your Maggie stand in for Manny English while he's away investigating Strathclyde. It came as a bit of a surprise, even to me, when he told me she's agreed.' '
'It was a surprise to her too; ACC Haggerty must be a persuasive bugger. It's only a temporary thing, though; just to let her get the feel of the job.'
Martin grinned. 'So now she's responsible for everything that goes on in the division. Every crime, every public nuisance, every waif and stray.'
'Aye,' said McGuire heavily. 'And that could be a bit of a problem.'
23
Joe Doherty, sallow-faced as ever, drew on a cigarette as he looked around Bradford Dekker's conference table. He was the only person there who was smoking, and the fixed expression on the face of the Erie County Sheriff made it clear that in his view that was one too many. 'I mean it. Those things wil kil you one day, my friend,' murmured Bob Skinner, sat on his right.
'You keep telling me that,' replied the American, quietly, 'but living does that in the end, any way you look at it. Look at your father-in-law; I bet he never smoked in his life.'
'You lose,' said Dekker, close enough to overhear. 'Mr Grace loved a Monte Cristo after dinner.'
'That's true,' Skinner agreed. 'He always had a supply handy, wherever he went. The Dominican Republic variety, of course, never Cuban,' he added with a faint grin, which vanished as quickly as it had appeared.
'Shit!' he whispered, then glanced along the table. 'Lieutenant Schultz, can you remember; did you find any cigars at the cabin? I don't remember seeing any.'
The New York detective frowned as he searched his memory, then opened a folder on the desk before him and looked through several pages. 'I don't recal that, sir,' he answered, final y, 'and there's no mention of them on the inventory.'
'So? Could that be the first thing we know about this kil er: that he's a cigar smoker, and couldn't resist
