He realised that he still had the phone in his hand. 'Sorry, Stan,' he said, 'got to go.' He hung up and turned back to face her.
'Magnus Essary. He and his partner rented space in our bonded warehouse a while back; Beppe wanted to terminate their lease and they were kicking up about it. Greg Jay wants to talk to him but he can't find him.'
'I'm not surprised,' Maggie exclaimed. 'Magnus Essary was identified as having died of a heart attack, just over a week ago, in a doctor's surgery in Oxgangs.'
'Ah shit. Greg. can take him off the list then.'
'Oh no he can't. We're one hundred per cent certain that the man identified as Essary was actual y Father Francis Donovan Green, a parish priest from Holytown in North Lanarkshire.'
'… Who liked to cruise the Royal Mile pubs looking for friendly ladies with an eye for a new experience, like screwing a priest, so they could tell their pals about it.'
'How did…'
He cut her off in mid-exclamation. 'Bandit Mackenzie phoned a few minutes ago. Green's curate told him the whole story. Who certified the death?'
'A doctor named Amritraj; a locum.'
'Who's now missing?'
'Of course; leaving a mountain of debt in his wake. I was late home because I had to dig up a sheriff to give me warrants to search his digs and the surgery.'
'Where's he from?'
'Goa, in India.'
'He won't be Goa-in' back there, then.'
She groaned at his bad joke. They both became aware at the same moment of the odour of spil ed Madras. She bent to pick up the bag, and carried it into the kitchen. Mario watched her as she scooped the curry into a Pyrex bowl, then transferred it to two plates, laying a naan bread on each one. He pulled up two stools and they ate, hungrily, at the breakfast bar.
'What do you think al this business is about, Mario?' she asked.
He smiled, his cheek bulged out with a chunk of sauce-dipped bread.
'Money,' he answered, when he could. 'Two people go through al the motions of setting up a company; they register, they take commercial space, they have a business address. But they never use the space, and they can only be contacted by mail, through the address.'
'A rented house near where Amritraj worked,' she interposed.
'Why would they do al that?'
'As a front, of course. Smuggling?'
He frowned at her. 'How about insurance? We've got an Essary, dead, only he isn't real y.'
'And who, it turned out, never existed in the first place… not as Essary, anyway.'
'But what if there's a bloody great policy on his life, the kind smal companies take out to cover the death of directors, so that their shares can be bought in?'
Maggie nodded. 'What if, indeed.'
'Where's the body?'
'Up the chimney at Seafield; it was claimed by the partner of the so called deceased.'
'Ella Frances?'
'The same. She had him cremated on Saturday.'
Mario laughed out loud. 'First thing tomorrow, love, you'd better check with al the main corporate insurers.'
'A day in the rank,' she snorted, 'and you're telling me how to do my job?'
'Funny, Greg Jay said much the same to me today. Here, that's a point.
Whose investigation is this anyway, yours or his?'
'It's Dan Pringle's. And you know what? I'm going to see him, right now.
He looked at her, his frown back in place. 'You do that,' he murmured, 'and while you do, I'm off to visit our Paula. No one else but Beppe has seen Essary, that I know of at any rate; but she was close to her old man.
You never know, maybe she can shed some light.'
56
'I made that call to lan,' said Sarah.
'I told you. I don't want to know anything about it.'
'Okay, I just thought…'
'Don't start thinking about this at this stage,' Bob snapped. 'You'l only confuse yourself.'
She looked at him across the bedroom, angered and hurt by his retort.
He softened at once and moved towards her. 'Hey, I'm sorry, love,' he said, wrapping his arms around her in a great bear-hug. 'You do what you have to do. It's just that this is going to be a difficult week for you as it is; I'm not sure you need this added complication.'
'You ain't kidding there,' she murmured, her voice muffled by his chest. 'But I have to deal with it, if I'm ever going to feel right about that time. I won't mention it again, I promise.'
'Fine. The main thing for you, for us both, indeed, is to get through Friday.'
'I know. The meeting at the law firm, whenever it happens, is going to be tough too. And there's something else I have to do before that.'
'What's that?'
'I have to see them, Bob. I have to say my goodbyes. I cal ed the mortician and arranged it for this evening.'
'Now I do understand that, love. Do you want me to come with you?'
She looked up at him, her eyes glazed. 'Take me there, please, but give me some time on my own.'
'Sure.'
The phone beside the bed began to ring, softly at first, then growing in volume. 'You'd better take that,' said Bob. 'Just in case it's your Reverend pal cal ing you back.'
She nodded and went to answer the call. He was on his way into the en-suite bathroom when he heard her speak. 'Joe. Hi, how are you?
That's good. Yes. He's here. Hold on.'
He was already by her side. 'Hello, mate,' he said as he took the phone. 'What you got?'
'You want the interesting news or the really interesting news?' Doherty answered.
'Work me up to really.'
'Okay. I'll begin in New York; Troy Kosinski, large as life, called me half an hour ago from the Bureau office there. He reported on his meeting with Wilkins and he told me about the floppy he took from him.
I told him to send it to me by courier, pronto.'
'Did he know Wilkins was dead?'
'When I told him he whistled and went 'Wow'. Read into that what you will.'
'Have you recovered the bullet yet?'
'Fast work, but yes I have. I commissioned a trusted pathologist in Chicago, rather than send someone in. It was a nine millimetre; could have come from a Glock, but it'll take specialist testing to prove that. It didn't come from Kosinski's standard issue piece; that's for sure.'
'Okay, but if he didn't do it, and Wilkins' office was bugged, how come he was allowed to get back to New York with that disk?'
'Good question; maybe we'l find out when it arrives at my home this evening.'
Skinner frowned. 'Joe, your daughter lives with you. If that thing is hot…'
'Not a problem; Phil's out of town with the airline.' Skinner had forgotten that Philippa Doherty was a flight attendant. 'She won't be back for a couple of days.
'Anyway,' the deputy director continued, 'you wanna hear what's real y interesting?'
