Quintin Jardine - Screen Savers

He did. Two days later we shot a screen test in a private studio in Edinburgh, hired in Prim’s name to avoid any possibility of a premature leak to the Evening News or anyone else.

Next day, Sly agreed terms; I had warned him not to haggle, but he did anyway. He can’t help himself; it’s a cultural thing. Three days afterwards, a press release on my signing hit some of the Scottish tabloid press. ‘Christ,’ I exclaimed to Prim across the breakfast bar, ‘they’re saying I’m a bloody movie star.’

Filming my scenes was still weeks away, so Prim and I decided to put any thought of it from our minds, and carry on in the meantime with what passed for us as a normal life. Our earlier experience of eating lotuses in Spain had taught us that we are not good at sitting on our backsides watching the world go by, so when the Lottery pointed its great big finger at us, we decided straight away that it would not affect our working routines.

In truth, my weekend job, and my growing Sly Burr business were making it increasingly difficult for me to concentrate on interviewing punters in their offices, homes, and occasionally in their police cells. They were also making it increasingly boring. However that was what Prim and I had chosen, together, to do, so I felt that I had to pull my weight, that I could hardly back out and leave it all to her.

Nevertheless, I felt my ticker give a small jump of pleasure when Mike Dylan called me one Tuesday morning as I was grafting away in Mitchell Lane. ‘Have you still got your deer-stalker hat and your pipe?’ he asked. He was trying to sound conspiratorially casual, but I thought that I picked up a nervous undercurrent in his voice.

‘My Sherlock Holmes kit, you mean? Aye, it’s still around somewhere. I’m a bit rusty on the violin though.’ Prim was out, or I might have been a bit more guarded. I wasn’t sure that she would have been too happy about Mike’s call.

‘Don’t bring that, for Christ’s sake. Far too arty for the Horseshoe. There’s something I need to talk to you about. Can you meet me there at lunchtime, say one o’clock?’

‘Make it twelve-thirty,’ I said, knowing that Prim would not be back before then. I didn’t want to keep a secret from her if I could avoid it. ‘What’s the problem anyway?’

‘Not over the phone.’ He hung up.

It isn’t far from my office to the Horseshoe Bar. My curiosity was well pumped-up, so I was bang on time; even so, Mike was there before me; almost twitching with tension, it struck me. He was so agitated he even bought me lunch without a single hint being dropped.

‘What’s the story, Detective Inspector?’ I asked at last, as we set our pies, beans and beer down on a small round table.

‘I need a favour, Oz.’

I shrugged. ‘I owe you a couple, that’s for sure. What’s the problem?’

‘Someone’s after Susie.’

‘You’re kidding. What d’you mean after her?’

‘She’s had threatening letters.’

‘How threatening?’

He looked around to make sure no one was watching us, then reached into the pocket of his light-weight summer jacket and produced a brown envelope. I glanced at it and saw that it was addressed to Ms Susan Gantry, at her office address.

‘Is it all right to touch this?’ I asked.

Dylan frowned. ‘Of course!’ he snapped.

‘Okay, keep your Ralph Lauren on. I thought it might have been evidence; fingerprints and all that, basic police procedures. Christ, I was only in the force for a few months but even I remember that.’

I took the letter from the envelope, unfolded it and read it quickly. It was brief, and to the point. ‘Bitch from Hell. You are going to die with your world in ashes all around you.’ It wasn’t signed, but it ended, ‘A Well-wisher. . not!’

I nodded. ‘Yes, I’d say this was threatening all right. There have been others?’

He took two smaller envelopes from another pocket; they were numbered ‘1’ and ‘2’. The first letter read simply, ‘Your number is up, Ms Gantry.’ The second went into more detail. ‘You choose your associates very badly, Susie. Now you’re going to pay.’ Unconsciously, I read it aloud; my voice was barely above a whisper but still, Mike glared at me furiously. ‘Shurrup, for fuck’s sake,’ he hissed.

‘Sorry.’ I paused and glanced across at him. ‘Why didn’t you mention this the other night?’

‘I didn’t like to, not with Miles and Dawn around. The third letter didn’t arrive till yesterday anyway; that was the one that really shook us both up.’

‘Any idea who this bugger might be?’

‘Not the faintest. It’s weird, Oz. All three letters were posted in different British cities: Dundee, Birmingham, then London. All three look as if they’ve been typed on a PC then printed on the same machine. It’s the same typeface every time and if you look at it through a magnifying glass you can see the pixels.’

‘You don’t believe in them, do you?’ Dylan stared at me blankly; I decided that this was not a time for humour.

‘Mike,’ I went on, quickly, picking up the eating irons to attack my pie and beans. (The Horseshoe pies are the best in Glasgow. It doesn’t do to let them get cold.) ‘Why are you showing me these, old son? Surely this is a police job, all the way.’

He threw me another sour look. ‘You try telling Susie that: Christ knows, I’ve tried. But she says that if word got out that she was under threat, it could undo all the work she’s done to rescue the Gantry Group over the last couple of years.

‘After what happened to her old man, she had to sell off a big chunk of the business at a loss. She’s heavily committed to a couple of projects, but she’s going to have to borrow big if she’s going to see them through. She’s worried that if word got out that she was under threat, her bankers might get cold feet. If that happened, it could bloody near wipe her out.

‘She’s refused point-blank to let me open a police investigation. She says, and she’s right, unfortunately, that there are people in the police who make a few quid passing on juicy tips to the tabloids.’

‘Er,’ I asked, ‘haven’t you got a duty as a copper to investigate if you know that a crime’s been committed?’

‘Aye sure, but you know I’ve overlooked that once or twice in the past. And this is my girlfriend who’s involved.’

I frowned and stopped a forkful of pie halfway to my mouth. ‘But if this is serious, if it isn’t just a nutter. .’

Dylan shook his head. ‘I’ve taken steps to protect her. I’ve hired a guy as a day-time bodyguard. Officially he’s on the Group payroll as an office manager, but he’s ex-SAS, supplied by a personal security firm in London. With him around during the day, and me at night, she’s pretty safe.’

I had my doubts about him as a minder, but I kept them to myself. ‘So how can I help? D’you want me to fix up a couple of the GWA boys as back-up for your hired gun?’

For the first time that day, he smiled. ‘Thanks, but no thanks. My man doesn’t need back-up, believe me. Anyway your wrestlers tend to be a bit conspicuous. . apart from that girl Sally Crockett.’

‘You can’t have her; she’s on maternity leave.’

‘Lucky somebody. No, Oz, I’d like you to help me find the bastard behind these letters. For all that Susie’s a tough wee cookie, this has her rattled, and I hate to see it. Chances are this is just a disgruntled former employee with a nasty streak and a vivid imagination, but whatever, I want him stopped.’

I hesitated. ‘I can’t help but recall, Mike, that in the past you’ve tended to take the piss out of my efforts as an investigator.’

He smiled again; a broad grin this time. ‘Aye well, you’re the best I’ve got. Also, you might be a complete bloody amateur, but you’ve got the detective’s greatest attribute on your side.’