and the piano with it.’
‘Oh please,’ I sighed.
‘No, really, it’s better I don’t go. I couldn’t trust myself to stay quiet if my dear colleague was there and tried to stir it.’
‘Fine,’ he replied with an equanimity that might have annoyed me at another time. ‘You do that. Why don’t you take Sarah with the spare ticket? You can spend the evening picking me apart.’
‘I don’t think she’d come, somehow,’ I murmured, dryly.
‘I wasn’t being serious,’ he said sharply. ‘How about Alex?’
‘I don’t think she would either.’
My tone must have given me away. ‘Oh my God,’ he exclaimed. ‘Please tell me you didn’t ask my daughter to try and talk me round.’
‘I didn’t get that far. Bob,’ I moaned. ‘I thought she liked me.’
‘She does, as far as I know. She’s never criticised you to me, not ever. But if you asked her to side with you against me. .’ He didn’t have to finish. ‘I’ll talk to her,’ he said, ‘and try to repair the damage.’
‘Maybe you have to talk to me as well to do that,’ I pointed out.
‘I meant the damage between you and my kid,’ he replied, quietly.
‘Between you and me, I’m not so sure. Something broke last night; we both know that. Now,’ he continued, abruptly, ‘about that spare ticket. Given the guy’s name, why don’t you ask Paula Viareggio if she’d like to go. She’s mightily pregnant, but she still has a couple of weeks to go and she’s bored as hell with it all. She might jump at the chance, and you’d be doing Mario a favour too; he has his hands full right now. We all have.’
Paula Viareggio McGuire
‘You will never guess, Mario,’ I said, ‘who I’ve just had on the phone?’
‘You are almost certainly right, love,’ he replied, ‘so save us both some time and tell me.’
‘The once and future First Minister, that’s all.’
‘Aileen? What did she want?’
‘Does the name Theo Fabrizzi mean anything to you?’ I asked him.
‘Not a light,’ he admitted. ‘Should it?’
‘If he was Italian, maybe, but he’s not, he’s Lebanese, so we’re both off the hook. He’s a classical pianist, and he’s the attraction at a charity event in Glasgow tomorrow night. Aileen’s got a spare ticket and she’s asked me to chum her. Front row seats; the First Minister himself is the guest of honour.’
‘That’s very nice,’ he murmured, ‘but why isn’t Bob going with her?’
‘She said he doesn’t fancy it.’
‘Mmm.’ Nobody is better than Mario at making a mumble sound sceptical.
‘That’s what she said. I don’t care why he isn’t; I am going to have very few more opportunities to get glammed up, so I’m going. . if it’s all right with you. Be warned; it’s advisable to answer “yes” to that.’
‘Yes,’ he chuckled.
‘I’ll cook tonight, to make up for it.’
‘No you won’t. I will, or I’ll bring something in. You’re not coming in from a day at your office to stand around in the kitchen.’ He can be a doll sometimes: most of the time; with me, all the time. ‘Anyway, you’re well in credit for the Starbucks and the croissants. Andy says thanks, by the way. They came in handy, saw us through a difficult interview. The gentleman in question. . well, he’s no bloody gentleman.’
‘You poor love,’ I murmured. That might sound soppy, but I know Mario’s secret side. He’s more sensitive than he would ever let on, and when someone he’s trusted. . and that means every cop in the force. . lets him down, it makes him very sad, as well as very angry.
‘Bah!’ he grunted, for he won’t admit it to anyone, not even me. ‘Listen,’ he continued, ‘in the wake of that I might be a wee bit later than usual this evening. I’ve got a call to make.’
‘Where? Out of town? Can you tell me?’
‘Not very far. Saughton Prison, in fact. The chief wants Andy and me to have a serious conversation with the man who set this whole sorry Varley business in motion.’
Alexis Skinner
I must have raised my voice during my discussion with my dear stepmother. I may be a partner in the august firm that is Curle Anthony and Jarvis, but I’m still well down the pecking order and the office that I rate didn’t have too much spent on its sound-proofing. I had barely hung up before the door opened and my secretary’s frown came into view.
‘Is everything all right?’ she murmured. Clio Lomax and I are still new to each other: her predecessor Pippa finally pushed her flippancy far enough for it to earn her a rollicking from the chairman of the firm. When she came crying to me and I told her that it wasn’t before time, her lip became so petted that she called me a ‘fucking establishment lackey’ and walked out, never to return. Now she’s working in her father’s investment management business; God help the clients.
Clio was available as a result of one of our departments having been downsized during the recession, and she moved straight into the vacancy. Her inquiry wasn’t entirely solicitous. It was her way of suggesting that I turn down the volume.
‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘You weren’t meant to hear that. Just a small family disagreement. You don’t want to know about the serious ones. You know who my stepmother is?’
She nodded. ‘I take it you won’t be voting for her next year.’ I grinned, and she left.
I tore into the project I’d been assessing before Aileen’s call; her interruption had taken fifteen minutes out of my midday break, but since I hadn’t been scheduled to meet anyone, it wasn’t a big deal. The day was warm and sunny, so I cleared out of the office, walked down the steps that lead from Castle Terrace to Princes Street Gardens, and bought a sandwich lunch at the Fountain Cafe. I was eating it, on a bench, when my mobile sounded.
I looked at the screen, and felt instantly brighter. ‘Hiya,’ I said. ‘How’s the sex slave business?’
‘Getting worse by the day for the traffickers,’ Andy replied, cheerfully, ‘I’m glad to say. So is drug-dealing, and the Agency’s internet team just busted a rock singer for having some very bad stuff on his computer.’
‘Once upon a time, sex and drugs and rock and roll were reckoned to be very good indeed,’ I laughed, ‘until Director Martin became head of the serious crime-fighters. How’s the weather in Paisley? It’s lovely here in the Gardens.’
‘No idea,’ he replied. ‘I’m enjoying the sunshine on Leith. It’s an outside officer job that your father asked me to do; it’ll take up the rest of the day.’
‘Are you around this weekend?’
‘I am tomorrow, unless this goes pear-shaped. Sunday I’m going up to Perth to take the kids out. You?’
‘I’m clear. Fancy meeting up tonight, and taking it from there?’
‘Deal. I’ll call you when I’m done.’
That’s the way it is with Andy and me now. We have no ambitions for our relationship, but we enjoy it. I know what a lot of people think of me. . yes, they think it of me, rather than him. . but I did not set out to bring it about, and I’m sorry that his marriage didn’t work. I’ve had hate mail, the old-fashioned kind, addressed to me at the firm and always anonymous. There’s been shit posted about me on Facebook too. . Faecesbook, as I’ve come to call it. I assume it’s all come from people who are, or consider themselves, friends of Karen, Andy’s wife. He hasn’t had any of that stuff, but you’d have to be seriously mental to send poison pen messages to a cop. If anything was too heavy, I’d ask him to deal with it, but I would never, ever mention it to my father.
