of miles away.'
He grimaced. 'Allow me that, Pammy, please. I miss wee Jazz every moment of every day. Missing him's become a part of me, but it doesn't affect our relationship. Come on, what did you want to ask me?'
She looked around the kitchen of Skinner's bungalow in Fairyhouse Avenue, not far from the police headquarters building. 'Why have you never brought me here before?'
He looked her straight in the eye as he replied: 'Because this is the home I made with Sarah. The furniture in it we bought together.
The swing on the tree outside I made for our son.
'Gul ane's different. That's the home I made with Myra, years ago.
You know about her, al about her life and death. It seems natural for you and I to be together there, or for that matter at your place. But I haven't felt right about bringing you here, not until now. That's the truth of it.'
She looked at him, solemnly, and nodded. 'Yes, I thought you'd say that. And I understand it. So why have you brought me here this afternoon?'
He smiled back at her. 'Because this evening I'm going to begin to do what I promised you. I'm going to have dinner with Alex and Andy, and I'm going to tell them that you and I are seeing each other.
'Then tomorrow, I'm going to have lunch with the Chief in the New Club, and tell him the same thing.
'Final y, tomorrow night, I'm going to phone Sarah and talk things through with her. I'm going to ask her if she wants a divorce.'
'What if she says no?'
'At that point, I'l tell her about us. I'm sorry if that seems devious or even cowardly, but I'd sooner that Sarah and I divorce because 30 she's thought it through and wants to than because I'm putting a gun to her head.'
He saw her eyes narrow. 'You're guilty about me, aren't you?'
He shook his head at once. 'I have a clear conscience. My mother might not have seen it that way, but I do. Sarah and I had parted before you came on the scene. But I do care for her, and I want to be as gentle on her as I can.'
'What if she tel s you she has another man?'
'I'll say, fair enough.'
'But you'l hurt inside.'
'If I do, love, that's where it'l stay. Now, let's talk about something else.'
To his surprise, she frowned, and a different shadow crossed her face. 'Remember when I dropped my car off at my place, I went up to check the flat?'
Bob nodded.
'There was a message on the answering machine. From Alan Royston.'
He snorted. 'Royston? Your ex? Did he want you to ask me to let him off the hook?'
She shook her head, vigorously 'Don't be daft. He doesn't know about us, any more than anyone else does. No, he didn't leave any message, other than for me to call him as soon as possible. He sounded funny, though – anxious, I mean. What should I do?'
'Nothing!' said Skinner, vehemently. 'Don't cal him back under any circumstances. I'm interviewing him on Monday morning, to give him a chance to explain himself. I'm stil undecided what to do about him. If you speak to him at al there's a danger that you could compromise both of us.
'In fact, till I have dealt with him, don't even mention the bugger's name to me. For now, Royston's another subject that's off limits!'
11
The Saturday evening traffic in Leith was unusually heavy, a result in part at least, Skinner guessed, of the police flagging down and questioning the driver of every grey car in sight.
Having dropped Pamela at her home, after promising to return to tel her of his confession to his daughter and her fiance, he was fifteen minutes behind schedule when he. arrived at the flat near Haymarket which Andy Martin and Alexis Skinner now shared.
As he reached for the bell, the heavy front door swung open, and Alex appeared. She was wearing light cotton jeans, a yellow teeshirt, and a very serious expression.
'Hello darlin',' said Bob, holding out a bottle of red wine, wrapped in green tissue. 'Sorry I'm late. The traffic was murder. Did you see me arrive, then, from your perch over the street?'
She nodded, kissed him on the cheek as he entered the hal, then put a hand on his chest, to stop him. 'Pops,' she said. 'There's someone here to see you. He wouldn't say what it's about, till you got here, but I think it's a problem.'
Skinner frowned. 'Who is it?'
'Come on through. You'll see.' She led her father into the living room of the second-floor flat, with its bay window overlooking the street. Andy Martin was standing at the fireplace, looking down in silence at a man seated on the couch, his back to the door. Even from that angle, hunched nervously in his seat, Skinner recognised Alan Royston.
He glared across the room. 'What is this, Andy?' he asked, with an edge of menace.
'Search me. Bob,' said Martin, as Royston rose to his feet. 'Alan phoned about three-quarters of an hour ago, to ask if I knew where you were. He said that it was very important that he saw you at once.
So I told him that if he was prepared to risk being chucked out of the window, he'd better come here.'
The media relations manager turned, nervously, to face Skinner.
He was clutching a document case, fashioned of supple, black leather.
'I'm sorry about this, sir. I had no choice, even al owing for my situation. There's no way I could have referred this to Bil Dowling,
or anyone other than you.' He paused. 'Look, could we speak in private?'
The DCC shook his head. He had no idea what the man wanted, but al of a sudden he felt as if a black cloud was gathering above him, and preparing itself to rain, very hard. 'No way, Alan. If you've got bad news for me, it won't be anything my family can't hear. But if it is about your situation, as you cal it, my daughter wil show you the door.'
Royston shook his head, and began to unzip the document case.
Instinct, as much as anything else, made Skinner hold up a hand.
'Wait just a minute, please.' He looked across at Alex, standing now, by Andy's side. 'Before we hear anything, there's something that I have to say. I came here this evening to tell you something that I should have told you both before. For the last couple of months, since just after Sarah and I separated formally, I've been having a relationship with Pam Masters.'
As he looked at his daughter, she gazed at the floor and nodded. 'I know, Pops,' she said, as though they were the only people in the room. 'I drove out to Gullane one Friday night, about three weeks ago, to surprise you; to cheer you up. I was just turning into the Green when I saw Pamela jump out other car and run into the cottage, carrying what looked like an overnight bag.'
'Och, love, I'm sorry,' Skinner blurted out. Glancing at Martin, he saw that his friend was stunned. 'So why didn't you tell Andy… for I can see you didn't?'
'Because I knew that you'd tell us both, if and when you were ready.'
He grinned, but without humour. 'You knew better than me, then.'
Abruptly, he turned to Royston. 'RightAlan, now that's said, please carry on.'
The man nodded, and finished unzipping his case. 'That's why I'm here, sir, I'm afraid.
'Noel Salmon came to see me at six o'clock. The little bastard was almost chortling with glee. He gave me this, and asked if you would care to comment on the story for his next edition.'
Slowly he withdrew, from the document case, a copy of the Sunday Spotlight. 'This will be on sale in all of its supermarket outlets around Britain tomorrow morning. They've labelled it exclusive, but they'l release copies to television and radio at nine this evening, to promote their sales.'
