of me hoped it was Susie, saying, “Hey, do you want to stay for lunch?”
‘
It wasn’t, though. It was Ricky Ross.
“Oz, where are you?” he asked tersely. No banter, no funny lines; he sounded like a copper again.
“Glasgow; I’m just about to get the train back through.”
“Okay; get off at Haymarket. I’ll meet you there.” He hung up.
I must be getting too old, or too prosperous, for mysteries. I was more narked than curious; a couple of years before it would have been the other way around. I checked the incoming number on the phone and called it back, but there was no answer. Maybe Ross was heading for the station already.
I picked up a Scotsman at the station news-stand; it was just the right length of read for the journey. There wasn’t much in it; a row in the Scottish Parliament, a Tory split over Europe, and President Dubya had pissed off his allies again. I didn’t see any of that as news, but I’m not a journalist.. . even if I am cynical enough to be one.
There wasn’t a lot on the back page either; Scottish football clubs were on their way out of Europe and Rangers had signed yet another striker. We were almost in Edinburgh when I saw the small story on page five about the discovery of David Capperauld’s body. Star’s cousin in sudden death tragedy, the headline read.
I glanced over the story.
The well-known parliamentary lobbyist and public relations guru David Capperauld (29) was found dead in his Edinburgh flat late on Sunday night.
The tragic discovery was made by Mr. Capperauld’s fiancee and business partner Alison Goodchild, when she called to see why he had failed to turn up for meetings. Police and medical services were called to the scene but Mr. Capperauld was found to be dead.
A police spokesman said that it appeared that the victim had succumbed to a brain haemorrhage. Ms Goodchild (30) was said to be distraught. She was being comforted by relatives and was not available for comment.
“They should have phoned the office,” I muttered as I read on.
Goodchild Capperauld has grown into one of the most prestigious
lobbying and PR groups in Scotland in the two years since its
foundation. It blue-chip clients include banks, insurance companies
and leading Scottish businesses, including Torrent,
the office equipment giant which is said to be heading for a flotation.
James Torrent, group chief executive, said yesterday; “I was shocked to hear of David’s death. I will have to talk to Alison and see how it will affect our association.”
“Nice man indeed.” I growled, loud enough for the passenger across the aisle to glance my way.
Mr. Capperauld was the cousin of film star Ewan Capperauld (41), who last night issued a short statement expressing his sorrow at the death. The actor is expected in Edinburgh this week to begin work on the film version of Skinner’s Rules, to be directed by Miles Grayson, and featuring his wife, Auchterarder s Dawn Phillips.
Among Mr. Capperauld s other co-stars is up-and-coming life actor Oz Blackstone (34), a former boyfriend of Ms Goodchild.
“Fucking hell!” I barked loudly enough to have attracted the attention of everyone in the carriage, but for the sound of brakes as the train slowed into Haymarket. I didn’t mind them getting my age wrong, but I did take exception to a gratuitous mention in a story like that.
As I stepped down onto the platform, I ran through the list of people who had known about Alison and me, and who might have spoken to the Scotsman about us. I came up with a few possibilities from the Edinburgh days, and decided that the likeliest was one of my Tuesday football crowd who’d been going out with a radio reporter when I’d seen him last. I took a quick glance at the story, but there was no by-line.
Ricky Ross was waiting at the top of the stairs that led up to the exit; he saw the paper in my hand, and he
‘
It wasn’t, though. It was Ricky Ross.
“Oz, where are you?” he asked tersely. No banter, no funny lines; he sounded like a copper again.
“Glasgow; I’m just about to get the train back through.”
“Okay; get off at Haymarket. I’ll meet you there.” He hung up.
I must be getting too old, or too prosperous, for mysteries. I was more narked than curious; a couple of years before it would have been the other way around. I checked the incoming number on the phone and called it back, but there was no answer. Maybe Ross was heading for the station already.
I picked up a Scotsman at the station news-stand; it was just the right length of read for the journey. There wasn’t much in it; a row in the Scottish Parliament, a Tory split over Europe, and President Dubya had pissed off his allies again. I didn’t see any of that as news, but I’m not a journalist.. . even if I am cynical enough to be one.
There wasn’t a lot on the back page either; Scottish football clubs were on their way out of Europe and Rangers had signed yet another striker. We were almost in Edinburgh when I saw the small story on page five about the discovery of David Capperauld’s body. Star’s cousin in sudden death tragedy, the headline read.
I glanced over the story.
The well-known parliamentary lobbyist and public relations guru David Capperauld (29) was found dead in his Edinburgh flat late on Sunday night.
The tragic discovery was made by Mr. Capperauld’s fiancee and business partner Alison Goodchild, when she called to see why he had failed to turn up for meetings. Police and medical services were called to the scene but Mr. Capperauld was found to be dead.
A police spokesman said that it appeared that the victim had succumbed to a brain haemorrhage. Ms Goodchild (30) was said to be distraught. She was being comforted by relatives and was not available for comment.
“They should have phoned the office,” I muttered as I read on.
Goodchild Capperauld has grown into one of the most prestigious
lobbying and PR groups in Scotland in the two years since its
foundation. It blue-chip clients include banks, insurance companies
and leading Scottish businesses, including Torrent,
the office equipment giant which is said to be heading for a flotation.
James Torrent, group chief executive, said yesterday; “I was shocked to hear of David’s death. I will have to talk to Alison and see how it will affect our association.”
“Nice man indeed.” I growled, loud enough for the passenger across the aisle to glance my way.
Mr. Capperauld was the cousin of film star Ewan Capperauld (41), who last night issued a short statement expressing his sorrow at the death. The actor is expected in Edinburgh this week to begin work on the film version of Skinner’s Rules, to be directed by Miles Grayson, and featuring his wife, Auchterarder s Dawn Phillips.
Among Mr. Capperauld s other co-stars is up-and-coming life actor Oz Blackstone (34), a former boyfriend of Ms Goodchild.
“Fucking hell!” I barked loudly enough to have attracted the attention of everyone in the carriage, but for the sound of brakes as the train slowed into Haymarket. I didn’t mind them getting my age wrong, but I did take exception to a gratuitous mention in a story like that.
As I stepped down onto the platform, I ran through the list of people who had known about Alison and me, and who might have spoken to the Scotsman about us. I came up with a few possibilities from the Edinburgh days, and decided that the likeliest was one of my Tuesday football crowd who’d been going out with a radio reporter when I’d seen him last. I took a quick glance at the story, but there was no by-line.
Ricky Ross was waiting at the top of the stairs that led up to the exit; he saw the paper in my hand, and he
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