mad, and he made sod all attempt to make anything up. Like I said, Andy, the bloke’s no killer. Not sure I could say the same about his wife, based on how scared of her he looked.’
‘You’re not serious, are you? Do you think she could be a suspect?’
‘I was joking, mate, but I suppose we can’t rule anything out completely at this stage. But where are you at, anyway?’
‘On my way to Ainstable.’
‘You seeing Billy Wilson?’
‘Detective Chief Inspector William Wilson retired, if you don’t mind.’
‘Like that, is it?’
‘It is. But listen. You said that the records of staff are computerised, and they go all the way back to ’95?’
‘Aye, that’s right.’
‘Good. Do me a favour and check something out for me, would you, Ray?’
Grace started crying as Hall was asking his question, and Dixon laughed.
‘And they say that policemen are getting younger, don’t they?’
‘I think that’s just supposed to be a relative thing, Ray, not an absolute. And I’m planning to feed and change Grace before I go in to see Billy, so with a bit of luck she’ll sleep through the whole thing.’
‘Very much did as Billy did through most of his career.’
‘You knew him, then?’
‘Only slightly. A right lazy bastard, I thought. I took over a case from him once, and it took me about two shifts to get the bloke who’d done it nicked. I got the impression that Billy’s DS wasn’t much better than him, neither. Billy led his team by example, if you see what I mean.’
‘I do. Well he doesn’t do email, so I spoke to him on the phone about all this, and let’s say he wasn’t exactly forthcoming. He told me that he’d rather have his piles removed with pliers, but since he reckoned that I’d only bad-mouth him to all and sundry if he didn’t agree to meet me he said he’d give me half an hour. Just to get rid of a bloody toffee-nosed know-it-all like me, he said.’
‘Charming. And he told you exactly how guilty Adam Burke was too, I expect?’
‘He said it stood to reason, and that I should get a proper hobby now that I’ve retired, to keep my mind active. He recommended bowls.’
Dixon laughed. ‘Did he now? I can just see you, Andy, with Grace in one of those back-pack things, bowling down at Abbot Hall of an evening. Get yourself a flat cap to go with it, and then you’d be well away, like.’
It was a long time since Andy Hall had met an ex-copper like Billy Wilson. As far as he could recall they’d started to be phased out at about the same time as manual typewriters. But then Billy had been retired for well over a decade already, and he’d done over thirty in the job before that. So bobbies probably still had whistles when he’d first started, and they were, no doubt, still dab hands at giving cheeky young scamps a clip round the ear.
Wilson didn’t comment when Hall picked up the baby seat from the doorstep, after they’d shaken hands. The house was old red sandstone, the views were terrific, and Hall reflected briefly on the fact that a DCI couldn’t even dream of buying a place like this any more. Wilson led them through the double doors in the living room and out into the garden, and they sat at a large wooden table, beneath a generous sunshade. Hall just caught a glimpse of Mrs. Wilson, as she returned to the house through the back door. She’d left a big jug of squash for them, and two glasses.
Hall complimented Wilson on his house, his garden, and on anything else he could think of. Wilson didn’t look impressed by any of it. But at least Grace was fast asleep.
‘I’ve done some asking around about you, Andy.’
‘Oh, yes?’ Hall was mildly surprised, although as ever he didn’t sound or look it. But it did seem odd that a retired officer who’d been out of the job for as long as Wilson had would still have any meaningful contacts in the constabulary.
‘They say you’re probably the brightest bloke that the force has ever had. Too
‘You’re not serious, are you? Do you think she could be a suspect?’
‘I was joking, mate, but I suppose we can’t rule anything out completely at this stage. But where are you at, anyway?’
‘On my way to Ainstable.’
‘You seeing Billy Wilson?’
‘Detective Chief Inspector William Wilson retired, if you don’t mind.’
‘Like that, is it?’
‘It is. But listen. You said that the records of staff are computerised, and they go all the way back to ’95?’
‘Aye, that’s right.’
‘Good. Do me a favour and check something out for me, would you, Ray?’
Grace started crying as Hall was asking his question, and Dixon laughed.
‘And they say that policemen are getting younger, don’t they?’
‘I think that’s just supposed to be a relative thing, Ray, not an absolute. And I’m planning to feed and change Grace before I go in to see Billy, so with a bit of luck she’ll sleep through the whole thing.’
‘Very much did as Billy did through most of his career.’
‘You knew him, then?’
‘Only slightly. A right lazy bastard, I thought. I took over a case from him once, and it took me about two shifts to get the bloke who’d done it nicked. I got the impression that Billy’s DS wasn’t much better than him, neither. Billy led his team by example, if you see what I mean.’
‘I do. Well he doesn’t do email, so I spoke to him on the phone about all this, and let’s say he wasn’t exactly forthcoming. He told me that he’d rather have his piles removed with pliers, but since he reckoned that I’d only bad-mouth him to all and sundry if he didn’t agree to meet me he said he’d give me half an hour. Just to get rid of a bloody toffee-nosed know-it-all like me, he said.’
‘Charming. And he told you exactly how guilty Adam Burke was too, I expect?’
‘He said it stood to reason, and that I should get a proper hobby now that I’ve retired, to keep my mind active. He recommended bowls.’
Dixon laughed. ‘Did he now? I can just see you, Andy, with Grace in one of those back-pack things, bowling down at Abbot Hall of an evening. Get yourself a flat cap to go with it, and then you’d be well away, like.’
It was a long time since Andy Hall had met an ex-copper like Billy Wilson. As far as he could recall they’d started to be phased out at about the same time as manual typewriters. But then Billy had been retired for well over a decade already, and he’d done over thirty in the job before that. So bobbies probably still had whistles when he’d first started, and they were, no doubt, still dab hands at giving cheeky young scamps a clip round the ear.
Wilson didn’t comment when Hall picked up the baby seat from the doorstep, after they’d shaken hands. The house was old red sandstone, the views were terrific, and Hall reflected briefly on the fact that a DCI couldn’t even dream of buying a place like this any more. Wilson led them through the double doors in the living room and out into the garden, and they sat at a large wooden table, beneath a generous sunshade. Hall just caught a glimpse of Mrs. Wilson, as she returned to the house through the back door. She’d left a big jug of squash for them, and two glasses.
Hall complimented Wilson on his house, his garden, and on anything else he could think of. Wilson didn’t look impressed by any of it. But at least Grace was fast asleep.
‘I’ve done some asking around about you, Andy.’
‘Oh, yes?’ Hall was mildly surprised, although as ever he didn’t sound or look it. But it did seem odd that a retired officer who’d been out of the job for as long as Wilson had would still have any meaningful contacts in the constabulary.
‘They say you’re probably the brightest bloke that the force has ever had. Too
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