Authors: Quintin Jardine
Arrow whistled. 'That's a blessing. I'd reckoned that the next step would have been for Merle and I and a few of our pals to go there in there and invite him for a chat. Now all we
'ave to do is hire a medium.
Martin smiled, nodding. 'Yes. That's a big complication out of the way. Now we can concentrate on the real police work . . . unless of course, Adam, you're going to come up with Agent Robin:
The soldier grunted. 'Believe me, mate, you'd be the first to know if I did.'
Ì wish I could believe that, Captain. But after what we've heard about the Davey file, if you did catch Agent Robin, I wonder if you'd be allowed to tell anyone outside Downing Street about it, let alone a poor sad provincial copper like me!
`Right, that's it, everyone. Meeting adjourned.' He picked up his notes from the conference table and looked towards Doherty. `When would you like to get together again, Joe?'
The American shrugged his shoulders. 'My orders are to offer assistance and to report regularly to the White House. If you need my backing in setting up that phone tap, you've got it, but otherwise I'll lay off for a while, and Merle, here, can get back behind my old desk in London. Let me know when you have something fresh to tell me from all these different enquiries, but for now, I've got enough for a solid report to the Oval Office.'
He caught a look of concern in Martin's eyes. 'On a Top Secret basis, of course. Don't worry, nothing will leak out of there. Nothing ever does . . . unless the President wants it to, of course. Just between you and me, I think he was hoping to have a chance to kick some Bosnian butt over the next few days, just to top him up in the opinion polls. He may be the only mourner at Yahic's funeral.'
Martin led Doherty, Gower and Arrow along the corridor and down the stairs to the draughty foyer of the headquarters building. All three climbed into a chauffeur-driven consular car, in which Doherty had volunteered to take his companions to the airport.
When the Chief Superintendent returned to his new office after saying his farewells, he found Alison Higgins waiting for him.
`Good news about the boss,' she began diffidently.
He nodded, and she could see the relief in his green eyes. `Yes, but let's all still keep our fingers crossed. Sarah's still worried about him. She hasn't said, but I've got a feeling she's concerned about the long-term effects.'
`Nah! Not him. He's as hard as nails. He'll get over it.' `Let's hope so.' He paused.
'Anyway, was there something else?'
`Yes,' she said slowly. 'I was wondering if you had any though on how long I'll be without Donaldson.'
Martin shrugged his shoulders. 'As long as it takes. If we do get a result with Noble's wife and the soldier laddie, you won't see him again for a hell of a while. It won't be because he's going to Drugs and Vice either. No, he'll be preparing to be chief police witness at the Trial of the Century.
`Why are you asking? Do you want a replacement? With the boss out of action for a while, I can give you Maggie Rose on a temporary basis . . .' A recent memory came back to him `. .. or don't you two get on?'
Higgins shook her head vehemently. 'I've got no problem with Maggie. She's bright and she's a straight talker. If she's on offer, I'll take her, even if it's only for a few days. The truth is, I'd like to be free to give Leona as much help as I can. She's acting quite strangely, and I'm not certain how it'll end up.'
`What do you mean, strangely?'
`Well, over the last few days she's become almost euphoric. She's even having a supper party for a few of us tonight. She's on a high, when you'd still expect her to be in shock.'
Ìs she on medication?'
`No. She wouldn't take any. I don't know what's driving her, but if it reverses on itself, she'll come down with a hell of a bang.
If that happens, my godson might need me even more.'
'Mmm. In that case you can have all the time you need. Wee Mark's our star witness. In fact, he's almost our only witness!' Martin settled into his chair, and indicated to Higgins that she should take a seat.
`What was his dad like? The late Roland. I wasn't here when he paid us a visit, but I got the idea that Bob didn't care for him.' `What gave you that impression?'
Ì think the fact that he called him an "insufferable little arsehole" may have had something to do with it.'
Higgins laughed softly. 'Yes, I could see that Mr Skinner and he might not have hit it off.
Roly was a better talker than a listener, and an expert on everything. He found success in politics early, and it went to his head. He used to be okay, but lately, no, I'm afraid not. He always had time for Mark, but if he'd treated his secretaries like he treated Leona, then he'd have gone through about one a week.'
`Did he give you any hassle?'
`No, but only because I always made it clear that I would never talk to him about police work. But the truth is, if Leona wasn't such a close pal, and if Mark wasn't my godson, I'd have stayed away from them after he landed the Scottish Office job.'
Àye, well, Ali,' said Martin. 'A week ago Roland McGrath was a power in the land.
Today he's a pile of bones and ashes. You give your pal as much time as you can manage.
From the sound of things, she needs it.'
Sixty-One
‘Just what could those bloody stupid letters have to do with this accident, Chief Inspector?'
Experiencing the full weight of Ariadne Tucker's frosty glare, Dave Donaldson found it easy to imagine how a hostile witness would feel in the box, under her cross-examination.
A pang of relief passed through him as he remembered that English barristers were not admitted automatically to practise in the Scottish courts.
`Probably nothing at all, ma'am,' he said. 'But until we know exactly what the circumstances were, we can't discount the possibility of a connection. The letters, according to what we've been told by the investigating officers, accused you of infidelity.
The relevant questions arising now are, who was the author, and what was the motive?
Were they meant to harm your husband, or could they have been written by someone with a grudge against you? Your practice usually involves criminal cases, doesn't it?'
At once, her glare turned to a cool smile, which Donaldson found almost as unsettling.
'Yes, it does, Chief Inspector,' she said, in honeyed tones. 'But I am a very good criminal silk. In fact, I'm probably the best around at the moment. So my clients tend to leave court either by the front door, or in the knowledge that their sentence is a hell of a lot shorter, or less expensive than it might have been.
`Take the trial I'm on just now as an example. It's been going on for weeks. The Judge has just begun his summing up, and it'll take him another couple of days, but I know already and so does he that my client will walk. The chap's as guilty as sin, but my duty to the court is to demonstrate the weakness of the case against him. The Crown hasn't delivered enough material to the jury for a conviction, and the Judge's summing up should point that out.
Ì tell all my clients that I'm there to prevent a miscarriage of justice, and they understand that. The fact is that in a good proportion of my work I actually achieve such a miscarriage, of natural justice at least.
`Therefore, Mr Donaldson, there are no grudges harboured against me as a result of my work. It's the bad barristers who have plots hatched against them in Parkhurst.'
`How about your private life, Mrs Noble?' Neil Mcllhenney had decided almost at first sight that he disliked the woman. It was obvious in his tone. 'Any enemies there?'
The frost returned to her eyes. 'Not that I know of, Sergeant. Have you?'
Mcllhenney smiled. 'That's a sure-fire certainty, ma'am. I think I'm making one even as I speak, which probably means that I'm good at my job, too.'
`No doubt you are, Mr Mcllhenney, but I fail to follow your line of questioning. Why should my enemy want to kill my husband, or blow up a planeload of people?'
`Who says he did? Perhaps he wanted to kill you and didn't care whether he got Mr Noble.' He glanced around the drawing room. 'Maybe the bomb was meant to go off here, only it had a dodgy timer. Maybe your enemy assumed that Mr Noble would open the box at home, only he didn't.'
Ariadne Tucker was rattled. 'What enemy? I've told you, I don't have any.'
`How about someone who's mentally disturbed?' the Sergeant fired back. 'Emotionally stable people don't plant explosive devices. Any nutters in your life, public or private?'
‘For the last time,' she shouted at the policeman. 'Sane or otherwise, I don't have any enemies!'
`So who would write those letters accusing you of adultery?' said Mcllhenney quietly, managing, with a great effort, to keep triumph out of his tone. 'A well-meaning friend?'
She looked at him. The anger left her eyes. She nodded solemnly. 'Nice one, Sergeant.'
She pushed herself out of her armchair and walked over to the bay window.
Àll right, I'll tell you. There's no point in keeping it quiet now anyway. Maurice himself wrote the letters.
`From the earliest days of our marriage, he was paranoid about me. He was convinced that I had affairs. It started off as hints at first; nudge, nudge, wink, wink, sort of stuff, but gradually it became more serious. The hints became accusations.'
`We have to ask you this, ma'am,' said Donaldson. Was there substance in them?'
`No, there was not,' she said firmly.
`So how did you react to his suggestions?'
‘I cross-examined him.'
`What do you mean?'
Ì put him in the witness box. I made him set out his evidence, and I took it apart.'
`Did he have any evidence?' asked Mcllhenney.
She sighed. 'No. Deep down poor Maurice, much as I loved him, was an essentially insecure personality, with little or no inner self-belief. He really could be quite inadequate.'
`Sexually?'
She looked sharply at the Sergeant. 'Well, if I'm being frank, he wasn't a superstud. But I was speaking in emotional terms. As I said, he was paranoid, a classic manifestation of low self-esteem. For example, if I met a colleague of his and exchanged even a few friendly words, it would fester, and I'd hear about it at some time in the future.'
`Did you ever meet Colin Davey?'
`Yes, I was introduced to him at a reception around two months ago. I took an instant dislike to him. Then about a fortnight after that I had a consultation with a solicitor who turned out to be his Constituency Chairman. As it was coming to an end, Davey called into his office. After we had each completed our business we talked for about twenty minutes, while he waited for his car, and I for my taxi.'
`What did you talk about?'
`Trivia. I didn't like him and I could tell that he didn't like me but it was easier to jabber about the weather than to sit in silence.'
`Did your husband know of these encounters?'
She nodded. 'He was in the room on the first occasion. The second time he was in the official car which came to collect Davey from the solicitor's office. When it arrived, Davey and I came out together . . .' Her voice trailed off as she saw the expressions on the faces of the two policemen.
Òh no,' she said quietly. 'Surely not.'
`Later, did Mr Noble ever mention either of those meetings?' asked Donaldson.
She shook her head. 'No, he didn't. But after the letters, he wouldn't have.'
`What do you mean?'
`When Maurice showed me the first letter, I guessed at once that he had sent it to himself.
I didn't accuse him at that stage. I just burned it, and I did the same with the second. But when the third arrived, I decided that I had to put a stop to it, so I called in the police.'
‘Did you expect them to trace it back to him?'
`No. I was pretty certain they couldn't do that. I simply wanted to give him a scare and put a stop to the endless accusations. It worked. The arrival of the police gave him a hell of a fright. After they had gone, I sat him down and made him promise that the nonsense would stop. I told him that if he ever accused me again of having an interest in another man, then I really would leave him. That seemed to have done the trick'
`So he said nothing to you about Davey?'
Not in that context, no. All that he said about him was professional. About his conduct, about the way he treated his staff, and generally about what a horrible man he was.'
Ànd you agreed with that?'
She nodded. 'Maurice was dead right about him. I thought that he was a typical politician.
Arrogant, self-centred, and power-hungry sums up the way he came across to me.'
`You weren't attracted to him by all that arrogance?' asked Donaldson. 'It can happen, you know.'
She laughed, bitterly, in his face. ‘Not in the slightest, Chief Inspector. But surely your argument is that my husband thought I was.'
‘Not our argument, Ms Tucker. Simply a line of enquiry, a piece of potential evidence which we have to assess. From what you've told me and from what we've heard from others, it's a pretty strong possibility.' He paused. Ì'd like to record this discussion, ma'am.
Would you give us a formal statement, please.'
Òf course,' she said. 'I know the drill. I'll set something down, sign it and let you have it.
Could you collect it tomorrow evening?'
Donaldson nodded. 'Yes, but in the circumstances I'll have to ask you to write or type it yourself, rather than dictate it to a secretary'
`Naturally.' She brushed her hands down her skirt. 'Now, will that be all?'
The DCI shook his head. 'No, there's just one other thing. The forensic people who looked over your house found signs of entry at a small mezzanine window. They said it was unalarmed.'
`Yes, it is, I'm afraid. The alarm system was in the house when we bought it. I expect that whoever installed it saved a few pounds because that window is so small. We'd been meaning to upgrade it, by installing movement sensors, but we never got round to it.'
`Have you noticed anything out of place since last Thursday evening?' asked Donaldson.