Pray for the Dying (56 page)

Thirty-Two

‘So there you have it. Sir Bryan Storey, the Met commissioner himself, has approved your trip. Funny,’ Skinner mused, ‘I met that man for the first time at a policing conference a few weeks ago. D’you know what he said, “Ah, you’re Edinburgh, are you?” as if he was a Premier League manager and I was mid-table Division Three. Just now when I spoke to him, he was almost deferential. It seems that this office does have clout nationally, more than I’d realised.’

‘I don’t have to report to him when I get there, do I?’ Lowell Payne asked.

‘No, not even a courtesy call. I doubt if he’s spoken to a DCI since he got the final piece of silver braid on his cap. You just catch the first London flight you can tomorrow, go to New Scotland Yard and ask for Chief Superintendent McIlhenney. He’ll be waiting for you.’

‘What’s he like, this man?’

The chief smiled. ‘Try to imagine a quieter, more thoughtful version of Mario McGuire; but when he has to, Neil can be almost as formidable. The division he works in, covert policing, has some tough people in it. He’d never be any good in the field himself because he’s too conspicuous, but he will always have the respect of the people who are.’

‘How do we play it with Millbank’s family?’

‘You should take the lead in the questions. You’re the investigator, in practice; Neil’s just your escort. He knows that and he’s okay with it. I’d suggest you begin by being circumspect. Remember, we’ve only just identified Cohen under the name Byron Millbank. Now we have done, Storey’s going to send two female family support officers to break the news to his widow, but you’ll be going in soon after.’

‘How much will they have told her?’

‘Only the basic truth, that he died suddenly, of a brain haemorrhage, and that he had no identification on him at the time, hence the delay in getting to her. It’s your job to fill in the rest, and find out as best you can whether she has a clue that her old man had another identity. The book’s open on that. My bet is that she doesn’t, but you reach your own conclusions, gently.’

‘Once we get past gentle, what then?’

‘You don’t,’ Skinner told him, with emphasis. ‘You ask to see her husband’s computer, to check his calendar, recent contacts, all that stuff. Kid-glove stuff, Lowell. It’s only if she doesn’t play ball that you have to make the request formal, and take it all away.

‘It should be the same with his workplace, this teleshopping outfit. It’s pretty obvious that it’s a family business, given the similarity with the wife’s maiden name, so unless you find a box of Uzis in his desk, you maintain the front that it’s a formal sudden-death inquiry, required by Scottish law, and that all we’re doing is confirming his appointments, movements, etc.’

‘Understood.’ Payne stood up. ‘When do you want me back?’ he asked.

‘When you’re done; that’s all I can say. I have no idea how this thing will go, but I do know this. An outside agency has an interest in it, and I want to head it off. So, any leads that are thrown up have to be followed up, fast. If you need to stay tomorrow night, or even beyond that, so be it.’

‘Okay, I’ll take enough clothes and stuff for a couple of days.’ He smiled. ‘There’s just one thing, though, Bob. It’s our wedding anniversary on Thursday, and I’ve got a table booked at Rogano. If it comes to it and I have to cancel, I’d appreciate it if you call Jean and tell her, and say that it was your fault.’

Skinner whistled. ‘There ought to be no absolutes in the field of human courage,’ he said, ‘but it would take an absolute fucking hero to do that. If necessary, her niece and I will take her to Rogano ourselves, and I’ll pick up the tab.’

‘That’s a deal. Hopefully it won’t come to that. Here,’ he added, ‘what will you do for an assistant while I’m away? You’re still on a learning curve here.’

‘Yes, and I’m going to rely on my ACCs to instruct me. Mr Thomas and I had a getting to know you session earlier on. I asked him to attend the post-mortem on Toni Field and to sit in on Bazza Brown’s while he was there.’

‘Oh shit,’ Payne murmured.

The chief frowned. ‘What?’

‘Maybe I should have told you, but I never thought to, because it was no more than office gossip. Not long after Field arrived, when she lived on the Riverside, a couple of PCs in a Panda car saw Michael Thomas leaving her apartment block at three in the morning. The story was all round the force inside a day. ACC Allan heard about it and put the word out that anybody who even thought of posting it on Twitter or Facebook would wind up nailed to a cross.’

‘Indeed?’ Skinner murmured, with a thin smile. ‘Typical Max; he’s too nice a guy for his own good. Yes, it sounds like I really have put Thomas on the spot. Was this a continuing relationship?’

‘I’m pretty sure it wasn’t.’

‘How sure?’

‘Not a hundred per cent, I admit. Why?’

‘Oh nothing. Between you and me, Marina Deschamps gave me a rundown on her sister’s sex life. It hadn’t occurred to me till now, but the numbers didn’t quite add up.’ He nodded, as if he had reached a conclusion, then spelled it out. ‘That’s made my mind up,’ he said. ‘I’m going to tell Marina she can come back to work. If any more Toni skeletons pop out during this investigation, it’ll be useful to have her around.’

‘Do you want me to . . .’

‘No, I’ll call her myself, after I’ve told the fiscal that I want the body released tomorrow morning.’

‘The fiscal here doesn’t like to be told, Chief,’ Payne warned.

‘Then I’ll make it seem as if it was his idea all along.’

‘He’s a she.’

‘Aren’t they all these days? When my dad was in practice just after the war, there wasn’t a single female solicitor in the burgh. Now the majority of law graduates are women, like our Alex. It’s magic; it hasn’t half shaken up the establishment. What’s her name?’

‘Reba Paisley. Mrs.’

‘Get her on the phone for me, please. Then you’d better get off home, once you’ve booked your flight.’

‘Will do. By the way,’ he volunteered, ‘that bloody safe; you were right. It was installed at Chief Constable Field’s request and we do not have the technical capability in-house to open it. I’ve asked our plant and machinery people to source the supplier and get someone to deal with it.’

As Payne headed back to his own office to make the call to the procurator fiscal, the regional chief prosecutor, Skinner moved from the table to his desk. As he eased himself into his seat . . . not a patch on my Edinburgh chair, he grumbled, mentally . . . his mobile buzzed and vibrated in his pocket, signalling an incoming text. He dug it out and read it.

‘In Glasgow. Can I blag a lift? We came in Roshan’s car. Be about 6. Sarahx.’

He keyed in a reply, awkwardly because of the thickness of his index finger; he had never mastered using his thumbs on the mini-keyboard.

‘I know, & what ur doing. Sure. Take a taxi to Pitt St when ur done. L Bob.’

He had no sooner sent the message than the phone rang. ‘Chief Constable,’ he said as he picked up.

‘Procurator fiscal,’ an assertive female voice replied. ‘What can I do for you, Mr Skinner?’

‘Nothing, Mrs Paisley. I don’t ask for favours. Let’s get that clear from the start.’

‘So this is a social call?’

‘Yes, partly.’

‘Even “partly” makes a change. In the time she was here I never once heard from your late predecessor.’

‘You won’t be wanting to hang on to her then,’ Skinner chuckled.

‘To tell you the truth,’ the fiscal replied, ‘I hadn’t given that any thought.’

‘What’s your normal procedure with homicide victims?’

‘I don’t have one. I make my judgement on a case by case basis, but it’s my judgement, I stress. It’s not a call that I delegate to a deputy. In this case . . . is the PM done?’

‘As we speak.’

‘Who are the immediate family?’

‘Mother and sister.’

‘Are there any prospects of further arrests?’

‘Further?’ Skinner repeated. ‘We never actually got round to arresting Smit and Botha.’

He heard a sound that might have been a chuckle. ‘You know what I mean. Because if there are, defence counsel might want access to the body.’

‘I know that, but it isn’t an automatic right. I can’t say for sure we will ever trace the people in this chain of conspiracy, let alone guessing when. We’re interviewing the brother of the man found dead in the getaway car, but I don’t believe he will be able to help us.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because he’s still alive. If Cec knew anything, he’d probably be in the cooler next to his brother.’

‘How about if I authorise release for burial only?’

‘Toni Field was born in Mauritius. What if her mother wants to take her home there?’

‘It would be a lot easier in an urn than a coffin. Is that what you’re saying?’

‘I’m not saying anything, only asking questions.’

‘But good ones,’ Paisley said. ‘Tell you what. If the post-mortem report satisfies me that there are no unresolved questions about the death, the family can have her, and do whatever they like with her.’

‘That’s fair enough,’ Skinner agreed. ‘I’ll tell them. The only unresolved questions about the death aren’t related to the autopsy. There are only two: who wanted her dead and why.’

‘Do your people have any ideas about either of those issues?’

‘I don’t encourage my people to deal in ideas, only evidence. As I speak they’re looking for any that’s to be found. When they have more to report, they will, to both of us. Good to talk to you; you must come here for lunch some time.’

‘That will also be a first,’ the fiscal remarked. ‘I’ll look forward to it.’

As he hung up, Skinner scribbled, ‘Lunch Pitt St with fiscal: arrange,’ then called the switchboard and asked to be connected with Marina Deschamps. It was her mother who came on the line. ‘I regret that Marina is unavailable,’ she said. ‘Will I do?’

‘Of course, Miss Deschamps. I want to talk to you about Antonia’s funeral.’

‘Good, for we were going to call you about that. We contacted an undertaker, but he said that he had no access to her body.’

‘Not yet,’ he agreed. ‘There are issues in any homicide, but once the fiscal has some paperwork in place, everything should be all right. What I want to talk to you about is the form of the funeral. Antonia was a chief constable, and she died in office. If you want a private family funeral, so be it, but it’s only right that her force should pay its tribute. I’m happy to organise everything for you, if that’s what you would like. Did she have a religion?’

‘She was raised in the Roman Catholic Church,’ she fell silent for a few seconds, ‘although she was not a regular visitor, I must admit.’

‘Nonetheless. Cardinal Gainer, in Edinburgh, is a friend of mine. I’m sure he would officiate, or approach his opposite number in Glasgow.’

‘That is very generous of you, Mr Skinner. I would like to talk to Marina about it when she returns.’

He heard a sound, in the background, as if someone was calling out. ‘Is that her now?’ he asked.

‘No, it’s just street noise. We will call you, Mr Skinner. Thank you very much.’

Thirty-Three

‘
A
nything on Bazza’s computer, Banjo?’ Lottie Mann called out to a detective constable who was seated at a table on the other side of the inquiry office, working on the confiscated PC. He rose and crossed towards her.

‘No email account that I can find, and that’s disappointing. He was very big on porn sites, though,’ he advised her. ‘Nothing illegal, nothing that Operation Amethyst would have hit on; all grown-ups, all doing fairly monotonous and repetitive stuff. Strange; from what I saw of Mrs Brown when we raided the house, he shouldn’t have needed any diversions like that. There are some pictures of her on the computer that bear that out, and a couple of videos.’

‘Chacun à son goût.’

The DC nicknamed Banjo . . . his surname was Paterson, but none of his colleagues made the connection to the man who wrote the words of ‘Waltzing Matilda’ . . . stared at her. ‘Eh?’ he exclaimed.

‘It’s the only French I know,’ she said. ‘It means there’s no telling what you’ll find under a guy’s bed when you take a look. Or something like that.’

‘I’ll take your word for it, boss. I only speak Spanish and a wee bit of Mandarin Chinese.’

‘Smart bastard,’ she snarled. ‘What else?’

‘Video games; the thing was wired up to a big high-def screen. And casinos, he was quite a gambler, was our Bazza. He played roulette and blackjack mostly, but poker as well, from time to time. He also had an account with an online bookie, and bet heavily on the horses and on boxing.’

‘Was he any good at it?’

‘He seems to have been. He paid through a credit card; I’ve looked at the records and most months there was more going in than coming out. He had a system for roulette and he only ever backed favourites.’

‘That’s not a complete surprise; Bazza’s old man had a bookie’s licence and a couple of betting shops. As I recall, Bazza ran them for a while after he died, then sold them on to a chain. So yes, he’d a gambling background. He backed the wrong horse, though, when he took up with the South Africans. How about Cec?’ she asked. ‘Did he have a PC?’

‘Cec couldnae spell PC,’ Dan Provan muttered.

‘Possibly not,’ the detective constable agreed. ‘He’s got a PlayStation and that was it. He likes war games; anything where people get blown to bits. He also likes porn, but DVDs in his case. We could nick him for a few of those if you want.’

‘Can’t be arsed,’ Mann said. ‘What about their office?’

‘Definitely non-ecological. They don’t give a shit about how many trees they kill. All their records are on paper. However, they did fail to hide a list of addresses. They didn’t connect to anything so we’re having a look. Our search warrant was broad enough to let us go straight in.’ Paterson smiled. ‘Now for the good bit. Uniform have visited just one so far, a four-bedroom villa in a modern estate near Clydebank; it’s a cannabis farm, and you can bet the others are too.’

She laughed. ‘Poor old Cec; it’s not his week. He’s probably home by now; have him rearrested and brought in, then hand him and that address list over to Operation League. He’s their business now.’ She turned to Provan. ‘Bilbo,’ she began.

He glared at her. ‘The chief wis bad enough,’ he growled. ‘No’ you as well.’

‘What do we have on Bazza as a force? Is there an intelligence report on him?’

‘Now there’s a hell of a question to be askin’ a garden fuckin’ ornament like me.’

‘Okay, Dan,’ she laughed, ‘I’m sorry.’

‘No more funnies?’

‘No more funnies.’

‘Good, because that really was a hell of a question. Ah’ve got a mate, a good mate, in what we’re no’ supposed to call Special Branch any more, in Counter-Terrorism Intelligence Section. He’s jist told me that the chief . . . the old chief, no’ the new one . . . asked for updated files on all organised crime figures as soon as she came in. When SCT went to work on Bazza, they asked the National Criminal Intelligence Service for input, and a big red sign came up, warnin’ them off.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘It means he wis a fuckin’ grass, Lottie; he was protected. And if it wasnae for us, and it wasn’t, it must have been for MI5. They’ve got a serious crime section.’

‘Jesus!’

‘You’ll get brownie points wi’ the new chief when ye tell him that, eh?’

‘Maybe. But have you thought through the implications?’

‘Sure,’ Provan admitted, ‘but Ah’m no’ paid enough to spell them out. Ye’d better go and see the gaffer.’

‘I will do. While I’m up there, you concentrate on the only other line of inquiry we have with Bazza. Have we got the CCTV tapes from the Easthaven Retail Park yet?’

‘Aye, and I’ve cleared up something; nothin’ major, just a point for the record. We know that Smit and Botha were at Easthaven and that Bazza went there too, to meet them. We know from the gaffer that the South Africans were in Livingston on Friday, collecting their weapons. Ah’ve checked with the team in Edinburgh, spoke to a DC called Haddock, bright-soundin’ kid . . .’

‘Nothing fishy about him?’ Mann murmured.

‘Whit . . . ach, be serious, Lottie. He said that there was no mention of a third man bein’ with them. So, Bazza must have been in the boot o’ the motor by then.’

‘Fair enough, fills in the timeline. Take a look at that video and see if it shows them meeting, then we’ll join all the dots. What does the recording cover?’

‘Two cameras, all day Friday, midnight to midnight. But there’s a clock on it so Ah’ll speed run it back to just before seven and go from there.’

‘Fine, you do that. I’ll go and see the boss.’