Quintin Jardine - Poisoned Cherries

I had a lot to get out of my system, so once I had warmed up with a few hundred sit-ups, I bench-pressed a shitload of weight, first legs, then arms, in increasingly large lumps. Once I was through with that, I worked my way around the rest of the machinery in my usual pattern, and finished off with a tough twenty minutes on the exercise bike.

‘If Ali the Grocer could see me now,’ I gasped as, finally, I swung off. I hadn’t been a total stranger to physical exercise on my last sojourn in Edinburgh, but we hadn’t been the best of pals either.

Once I had showered, for the second time that morning, I walked back up to Princes Street, picked up some lunch in Marks amp; Spencer’s food hall, and made my way home, via the National Gallery, which stands at the foot of the Mound. It isn’t the biggest in Britain, but it’s one of the best, and it’s always been one of my favourite places to chill out.

After I’d eaten, I decided to do some more work on my script; Thursday was looming up. I didn’t know it, but so was something else.

I worked for nearly an hour, looking at my scenes, and going through them in my head at first, then aloud, my own very early rehearsal process. Eventually I decreed a coffee break and headed for the kitchen.

When the door buzzer sounded, it took me a second or two to figure out what it was, then another few to figure out where. I was puzzled as I reached out for it, too late to stop it from buzzing again. Apart from Susie and Miles, and neither of them were in town, nobody knew I was there. I guessed it had to be Luke Edgar.

I picked up the instrument. ‘Hello,’ I said, tentatively.

‘Hello, Blackstone,’ a deep voice boomed in my ear. ‘Guess what; it’s a blast from your past.’

It sure was, and one that I had hoped with all my heart, would stay there.

I could have left the bastard stood there in the street, but if he was determined I’d only have been postponing the moment, so I let him in and told him to take the lift all the way up to the top.

I left the front door open for him; he strolled into my living room, all swagger and menacing smile, came up to me and, without a word, threw a right-hander straight at my nose.

It stopped about an inch short; I’ll never know whether he’d have pulled it, because I caught his wrist in mid-swing and held it steady. I squeezed the bones together until the grin left his face and he winced, then I threw him his arm back.

‘Hello, Ricky,’ I said, evenly. ‘You’re still underestimating me. I thought you’d have learned by now.’

‘Only kidding, Blackstone, only kidding.’ He rubbed his wrist. ‘When did you get tough?’

‘It happened along the way.’

I looked him up and down. Ex-Detective Superintendent Richard Ross looked older than before, and by more than the three years or so that had passed since our last meeting. He was a bit slimmer, too, but he was still a pretty formidable specimen for a guy in his mid-forties.

He and I had enjoyed. . no, that’s the wrong word; we hadn’t. . only a brief acquaintanceship, but it hadn’t worked out too well for him. He had ended up in a very embarrassing position, after his piece on the side was charged with murdering her husband, and his shiny career had come to a tawdry end.

Serve the bastard right, though. He’d been keen to do me for said murder at one point, and had even broken into my flat in the process of trying to nail me for it.

Then the obvious hit me, and the pieces of the puzzle fell into place all at once. ‘Let me guess,’ I said to him. ‘You’re our technical adviser for the movie. Miles hired you; he gave you this address. I might have bloody known.’

He nodded. ‘The boy detective lives on, eh. That’s right; I just thought I’d pay you a call before we all get together, to get a few things out of the way.’

I sighed. ‘If you really want to have a go, Ricky, try it. That window’s toughened glass; you won’t go through it, but I promise you this, you’ll hit it bloody hard.’

Ross gave me that loaded grin again. ‘No. If I was going to do you, son, it’d have happened by now, and I wouldn’t have got my own hands dirty, either. I just wanted to say there’s no hard feelings, about what happened back then. I’ve got a good chunk of pension, and I’m making more in private security work than I did on the force. In a way, I’ve got you to thank for that.

‘I still think you or your bird, or her sister, did that murder, but I’m past caring.’

‘Well you’re wrong,’ I told him. ‘Yes, I know who did it, but he’s dead. He was killed in an accident not long afterwards.’

He stared at me; I hadn’t expected to take him by surprise. I thought he’d have worked it out by now. ‘Yet you still let them charge Linda?’

‘Too right. Did you know about a certain attempted hit-and-run incident, up in Auchterarder?’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘It happened. Linda Kane was the driver, in a hired car; she bloody near got all three of us too. It was you who told her where we were, Ricky. We both know that, don’t we?’

He grimaced. ‘I never thought she’d do that, though. First I’ve heard of it too. Did you make a complaint?’

‘No. I told Mike Dylan about it, but that was all. Are you still porking her, by the way?’

‘That’ll be right. After they dropped the charges, she was going to bloody do for me. No, I steer well clear of Mrs Kane. You’d be well advised to do the same.’

He frowned. ‘Mike Dylan, eh. A shame, what happened to him. I saw in the papers that you’ve moved in on his ex.’

Actually, he had it the wrong way round, but I wasn’t going to tell him that. ‘Susie and I have both had our bereavements,’ I said. ‘It suits us, the way we are.’

Ross actually looked sympathetic. ‘Aye, I heard about yours. That was a damn shame too. That was some girl you wound up marrying. Mind that time I was following her thinking she was you? She led me a real dance.’

I never thought that he and I would share a laugh about that day, but we did.

‘Before I forget, Ricky,’ I said, ‘and in case you do. My bird’s sister, as you called her, is now Mrs Miles Grayson. I don’t think Miles connects you with all that stuff, or he wouldn’t have hired you. Best let it stay in the past.’

‘Point taken.’ He glanced back at me. ‘I heard a story you were there when Dylan got it. Is that true?’

‘All too true.’

‘What happened?’

‘We tracked the guy we were after to Amsterdam; Mike was with him. Apparently he’d been his accomplice all along. The guy made a move and the Dutch policeman shot them both.’

Ross heaved a sigh. ‘Aye, that’s what I heard, only the bloke wasn’t a policeman. He was Dutch Special Forces, and he had his orders.’ I had suspected that, although no one had ever admitted as much. ‘Was it quick?’

‘He said something to me, then died; that’s how quick it was.’

‘Ahhhhh, that Michael. He was always getting in over his head, was that boy. I knew when they let him into Special Branch that something bad would happen.’

‘But not that bad. Mike and I became good friends, you know. I was gutted when it all went wrong.’

‘Weren’t we all, son. But it was his choice; remember that.’

‘I’ll never forget it; that made it even harder for Susie to deal with.’ I paused and glanced at my watch. ‘Speaking of whom, I’ve a train to Glasgow to catch.’

‘Aye, I’ll let you get on. See you on Thursday, then. By the way, if Grayson does remember it was me he was complaining about that time he phoned the chief. .’

‘I’ll tell him it’s sorted, don’t worry. Just behave yourself around Dawn, and whatever you do, don’t mention her sister.’