saw the page I had been reading.
“All publicity’s good publicity, Blackstone,” he began. “Is that the way it goes?”
I glared at him. “Not this. It’s pure fucking cheek.” I took a deep breath. “Mind you, it could have been worse.”
“Aye, I bloody know.” I looked at the ex-detective, in surprise.
“Come on,” he said, heading for a red Alfa Rorfieo parked in the station forecourt, ‘get in my car.”
I hadn’t time to wonder what it was all about; I simply followed him.
“Young Ron Morrow,” Ricky grunted. “He was a DC in my division when I resigned. He’s a detective sergeant at Gayfield now, and he keeps in touch. He asks me for advice every so often and he tells me things in return.” I knew what was coming. “Like for example he told me that when the Goodchild girl found her boyfriend stiff and cold on Sunday night, you were with her.”
“That’s right; and he said he’d keep my name out of it, too.” I waved the paper.
“He did. That in there had nothing to do with Ron. The quote in there came from the press office; he didn’t speak to any journalists.”
“If you say so, fair enough.”
“Aye, but he wants to speak to you now. I said I’d take you to see him; otherwise he was going to pay you a visit up at the flat, and that might have been a bit public. I take my job seriously, son. I’ve been hired by Mr. Grayson as security consultant as well as technical adviser; that covers a lot of ground.”
I felt a bit uneasy. I’d been on Cloud Nine for the best part of a day; now when I looked down it looked like a hell of a fall. “Should I be worried about anything here?” I asked.
“You tell me,” Ross answered. “Can you think of a reason why you should be worried?”
“No,” I said at once. “No, I can’t. So what the fuck’s this about?”
“Young Ron asked me not to tell you, so I said I wouldn’t. He wants to
tell you himself, and see your face when he does. The boy’s a good
copper and he’s going to be even better; I’m training him well’
He swung the car out of the station and headed east, through the lights, then left into Palmerston Place; the quickest way to Gayfield, I recognised.
We sat in silence for a while, till Ross broke it. “Is it true, what
it says in the Scotsman? You and the Goodchild girl; were you and she
.. .?”
“We went about for a while; it was four or five years ago though. It’s ancient history; it’s pure fucking mischief to bring it up now.”
“No it’s not, son. It’s news. Get used to it.” I thought about my pending divorce, and wondered if that would reach the press.
“So what were you and she doing together on Sunday?” Ricky asked.
I gave him a version of the story without going into the detail of Alison’s business problem, but when I got to the part about opening Capperauld’s door he stopped me.
“There was nothing wrong with it,” I protested. “She was his fiancee and she had a key, even if she was bloody slow in bringing it out.”
“Fine. Just leave it at that for now.”
It took us over fifteen minutes, even taking the short route, to get to the Gayfield Square police office. The traffic’s murder in Edinburgh, and getting worse; every daft management scheme the people on the council introduce just adds to the chaos.
There was a female constable on duty at the enquiry desk. She was only a probationer... as I was once, a long time ago .. . but she recognised Ross straight away. She even called him sir, when he told her to fetch DS Morrow.
The sergeant and I had met briefly a few years before when I’d given him a witness statement. He had remembered it straight away when he’d turned up in Union Street.
He was still friendly enough when he appeared from his office, but there was an air of formality about him that was new; it was as if he was keeping
“All publicity’s good publicity, Blackstone,” he began. “Is that the way it goes?”
I glared at him. “Not this. It’s pure fucking cheek.” I took a deep breath. “Mind you, it could have been worse.”
“Aye, I bloody know.” I looked at the ex-detective, in surprise.
“Come on,” he said, heading for a red Alfa Rorfieo parked in the station forecourt, ‘get in my car.”
I hadn’t time to wonder what it was all about; I simply followed him.
“Young Ron Morrow,” Ricky grunted. “He was a DC in my division when I resigned. He’s a detective sergeant at Gayfield now, and he keeps in touch. He asks me for advice every so often and he tells me things in return.” I knew what was coming. “Like for example he told me that when the Goodchild girl found her boyfriend stiff and cold on Sunday night, you were with her.”
“That’s right; and he said he’d keep my name out of it, too.” I waved the paper.
“He did. That in there had nothing to do with Ron. The quote in there came from the press office; he didn’t speak to any journalists.”
“If you say so, fair enough.”
“Aye, but he wants to speak to you now. I said I’d take you to see him; otherwise he was going to pay you a visit up at the flat, and that might have been a bit public. I take my job seriously, son. I’ve been hired by Mr. Grayson as security consultant as well as technical adviser; that covers a lot of ground.”
I felt a bit uneasy. I’d been on Cloud Nine for the best part of a day; now when I looked down it looked like a hell of a fall. “Should I be worried about anything here?” I asked.
“You tell me,” Ross answered. “Can you think of a reason why you should be worried?”
“No,” I said at once. “No, I can’t. So what the fuck’s this about?”
“Young Ron asked me not to tell you, so I said I wouldn’t. He wants to
tell you himself, and see your face when he does. The boy’s a good
copper and he’s going to be even better; I’m training him well’
He swung the car out of the station and headed east, through the lights, then left into Palmerston Place; the quickest way to Gayfield, I recognised.
We sat in silence for a while, till Ross broke it. “Is it true, what
it says in the Scotsman? You and the Goodchild girl; were you and she
.. .?”
“We went about for a while; it was four or five years ago though. It’s ancient history; it’s pure fucking mischief to bring it up now.”
“No it’s not, son. It’s news. Get used to it.” I thought about my pending divorce, and wondered if that would reach the press.
“So what were you and she doing together on Sunday?” Ricky asked.
I gave him a version of the story without going into the detail of Alison’s business problem, but when I got to the part about opening Capperauld’s door he stopped me.
“There was nothing wrong with it,” I protested. “She was his fiancee and she had a key, even if she was bloody slow in bringing it out.”
“Fine. Just leave it at that for now.”
It took us over fifteen minutes, even taking the short route, to get to the Gayfield Square police office. The traffic’s murder in Edinburgh, and getting worse; every daft management scheme the people on the council introduce just adds to the chaos.
There was a female constable on duty at the enquiry desk. She was only a probationer... as I was once, a long time ago .. . but she recognised Ross straight away. She even called him sir, when he told her to fetch DS Morrow.
The sergeant and I had met briefly a few years before when I’d given him a witness statement. He had remembered it straight away when he’d turned up in Union Street.
He was still friendly enough when he appeared from his office, but there was an air of formality about him that was new; it was as if he was keeping
Similar Books
