till Sunday. He’s due back then. Marlon was supposed to pick him up; from the station again. You could fly out to Ibiza, of course, but I’d have to warn him, so that would be a waste of time too. He’d be gone.’
Plenderleith was nothing if not honest. ‘Okay,’ I conceded. ‘I know you’re going to call him anyway to let him know about Marlon. So, when you do, tell him I’ll be at his place first thing on Monday morning, and I won’t be pleased if he’s not there.’
‘I’m sure he will be, Mr Skinner.’
I finished my ersatz Coke and left. More punters had come in while I’d been talking to Lennie, and more of them studied me as I made my way to the door than had done when I’d arrived. They were the ones who’d made me as a cop; I stared them down so they’d remember me, and recognised a couple as I did so.
As I pulled out into traffic, I was wondering about the big guy. He was closer to Tony Manson than I’d realised, trusted with the secret of his Ibiza tryst, and to know what Bella Watson really did for him. I’d worked out straight away why it would be a waste of time keeping tabs on him as a way to the guys who’d killed Marlon. When Lennie passed on a message from the boss, the recipient always walked away . . . eventually. He was telling me that those two were dead men, and that he wasn’t given that sort of task.
Even as I cruised along Salamander Street, I knew that he would have called Manson by then, and that if he had the faintest idea of who the torturers were, or of who had hired them, then things were liable to happen fast, and I had to keep pace. Of course I did have another option. Shut up and do nothing: stand back, let rough justice be meted out and pick up the leavings afterwards. Sure, and then we might wind up with an all-out gang war on our hands, the sort of mess in which innocent bystanders can get hurt.
I pulled off Seafield Road into the forecourt of a car showroom and called Alf Stein, mobile to mobile. I brought him up to date with the investigation, as it stood, and told him what my team was doing. ‘I should have known,’ he sighed. ‘I move you to Serious Crimes and they get really fuckin’ serious. Press, Bob, press, until something cracks; that’s all you can do. Do you need any more manpower?’
‘For the moment, no. I like what I have. By the way, I’ve addressed the Macken and Reid problem. I’ll send you a memo for the record, but I’ve booted them.’
‘Good grounds?’ he murmured.
‘They’ll hold up.’
‘Okay, I’ll deal with it.’
‘Macken’s got to go from CID, completely,’ I added.
‘I get the picture. Shitty job in uniform.’
I headed back to Gullane. I picked up some stuff in ASDA and made it home by six forty, later than usual, but not enough to start Daisy fretting. ‘Alex is excited,’ she told me, as she put a sketch pad into her bag.
‘Why?’
‘Let her tell you. She’s in her kingdom.’ I’d guessed that; I could hear the radio.
I went upstairs to the attic as soon as Daisy had left, and knocked on her door. ‘Clear!’ she called, her way of saying ‘Come in’. She had a school pal with her, a lass called Susie something, whose dad was in PR, and whose mother taught in another village school along the coast.
‘What’s the story?’ I asked.
‘Didn’t Daisy tell you?’ She had her impressionable child face on, the one I didn’t see too much of any more, and her eyes were gleaming. ‘I had a dedication on Airburst. Mia Sparkles played a song for me. “Wonderwall”. Did you ask her to?’
‘No, it never occurred to me. That was off her own bat.’
‘What’s she like, Mr Skinner?’ Susie bubbled.
It was on the tip of my tongue to say that she was one of the most attractive women I’d met in a long time with a body that not even a radio station T-shirt could disguise, but I cut that down to, ‘She’s very nice. Alex,’ I told my daughter. ‘We’re having company
Plenderleith was nothing if not honest. ‘Okay,’ I conceded. ‘I know you’re going to call him anyway to let him know about Marlon. So, when you do, tell him I’ll be at his place first thing on Monday morning, and I won’t be pleased if he’s not there.’
‘I’m sure he will be, Mr Skinner.’
I finished my ersatz Coke and left. More punters had come in while I’d been talking to Lennie, and more of them studied me as I made my way to the door than had done when I’d arrived. They were the ones who’d made me as a cop; I stared them down so they’d remember me, and recognised a couple as I did so.
As I pulled out into traffic, I was wondering about the big guy. He was closer to Tony Manson than I’d realised, trusted with the secret of his Ibiza tryst, and to know what Bella Watson really did for him. I’d worked out straight away why it would be a waste of time keeping tabs on him as a way to the guys who’d killed Marlon. When Lennie passed on a message from the boss, the recipient always walked away . . . eventually. He was telling me that those two were dead men, and that he wasn’t given that sort of task.
Even as I cruised along Salamander Street, I knew that he would have called Manson by then, and that if he had the faintest idea of who the torturers were, or of who had hired them, then things were liable to happen fast, and I had to keep pace. Of course I did have another option. Shut up and do nothing: stand back, let rough justice be meted out and pick up the leavings afterwards. Sure, and then we might wind up with an all-out gang war on our hands, the sort of mess in which innocent bystanders can get hurt.
I pulled off Seafield Road into the forecourt of a car showroom and called Alf Stein, mobile to mobile. I brought him up to date with the investigation, as it stood, and told him what my team was doing. ‘I should have known,’ he sighed. ‘I move you to Serious Crimes and they get really fuckin’ serious. Press, Bob, press, until something cracks; that’s all you can do. Do you need any more manpower?’
‘For the moment, no. I like what I have. By the way, I’ve addressed the Macken and Reid problem. I’ll send you a memo for the record, but I’ve booted them.’
‘Good grounds?’ he murmured.
‘They’ll hold up.’
‘Okay, I’ll deal with it.’
‘Macken’s got to go from CID, completely,’ I added.
‘I get the picture. Shitty job in uniform.’
I headed back to Gullane. I picked up some stuff in ASDA and made it home by six forty, later than usual, but not enough to start Daisy fretting. ‘Alex is excited,’ she told me, as she put a sketch pad into her bag.
‘Why?’
‘Let her tell you. She’s in her kingdom.’ I’d guessed that; I could hear the radio.
I went upstairs to the attic as soon as Daisy had left, and knocked on her door. ‘Clear!’ she called, her way of saying ‘Come in’. She had a school pal with her, a lass called Susie something, whose dad was in PR, and whose mother taught in another village school along the coast.
‘What’s the story?’ I asked.
‘Didn’t Daisy tell you?’ She had her impressionable child face on, the one I didn’t see too much of any more, and her eyes were gleaming. ‘I had a dedication on Airburst. Mia Sparkles played a song for me. “Wonderwall”. Did you ask her to?’
‘No, it never occurred to me. That was off her own bat.’
‘What’s she like, Mr Skinner?’ Susie bubbled.
It was on the tip of my tongue to say that she was one of the most attractive women I’d met in a long time with a body that not even a radio station T-shirt could disguise, but I cut that down to, ‘She’s very nice. Alex,’ I told my daughter. ‘We’re having company
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