Quintin Jardine - Death's Door

‘Did he ever have a follow-up test?’

‘What would be the point? You either make enough or you don’t.’

‘I’ve heard that occasionally it can be a short-term thing, stress-related. I suppose being shot might do it. But even if it isn’t, the sperm that are produced can be used in IVF.’

‘How do you know all this?’

‘My first husband,’ she said. ‘He had that problem. . not that I encouraged him to look for a cure, mind you.’

‘Ah.’ Neil chuckled. ‘So based on that, and based on Paula going all teary for a minute or so, you’re packing the pair of them off to the test-tube doctors.’

‘No, I’m just saying that if they wanted kids, they might be able to.’

‘Maybe, but they’d both have to want them. . Except,’ he scratched his chin, ‘maybe not. The truth is that Mario would give Paula the Crown Jewels if she asked for them. If she really did want a baby, he’d probably go along with it, regardless.’

‘That would be great.’

‘Maybe yes, maybe no. McGuire’s a great godfather, he takes it very seriously, but I’m not so sure that he’s one of nature’s dads. I could see him being too hard on a son of his own, demanding achievement beyond the kid’s capabilities, yet going completely in the opposite direction with a daughter.’

‘But Paula would be around to counter that; she’d probably behave in the opposite way, so there would be a balance between them.’

‘My darling,’ said Neil, ‘I have news for you. Parenting does not work on the basis of good cop, bad cop. Done right, it’s a partnership: you show a united front to your kids in every respect.’

‘You mean that “Wait till your father gets home” is not the thing to say?’

‘Exactly. Whether it’s correction or encouragement, it has to be done at the appropriate moment, in a consistent way.’

Louise took his hand and kissed it. ‘I bow to your experience.’ She looked down at the sleeping baby in her arms. ‘Although I can’t imagine this little chap ever needing correction, can you?’

‘Oh, he will, and much sooner than you think. . that’s if his brother was anything to go by.’

‘Not his sister?’

‘Lauren? From an early age she was correcting me; still is, as you’ll have noticed.’

‘There you are: you’re doing just what you said Mario would, being hard on one and soft on the other.’

‘Not true. I’m an equally soft touch for both of them, as you well know.’

‘I had noticed that, I admit.’ She moved in her chair. ‘Take this one, will you? He should go into his cot for a while, till he needs his next feed.’

Gently, Neil took the baby from her and carried him upstairs to the nursery. When he returned, he found her in the kitchen, scooping coffee into the basin of a percolator. ‘I wonder how Mario’s doing with his murder inquiry?’ she murmured absent-mindedly.

‘You mean how Stevie’s getting on? With a bit of luck, he’ll have an identification of the second victim by now.’

‘And if not?’

‘He’ll keep trying.’

‘The first victim, Stacey, the girl we were talking about last night: would you think I was ghoulish if I told you I’d like to see her work?’

‘No, I wouldn’t, because having seen it myself, I know it’s the kind of thing you like. She’s dead, but her paintings aren’t.’

‘Would it be possible?’

‘No, I’m afraid not; not for a while, at least. Her parents withdrew all her unsold stuff from the galleries a couple of days after her death. Russ, the dad, told me that they wanted to keep everything that was hers close to them, for a while at least. He said that at some point they might hold a memorial exhibition and auction some of them for charity, but that’s in the future.’

‘What about her pad? You said last night that when she walked her dog she was in the habit of stopping to sketch things. So when you found her, you must have found her pad. Maybe I could look at that. . or did you give that back to the parents, too?’

She broke off as she realised that he was staring at her. ‘You know, love,’ he said slowly, ‘sometimes I wonder how the hell I functioned as a detective before I met you.’

He picked up the phone, dialled the Leith divisional office and asked for CID. ‘This is Superintendent McIlhenney,’ she heard him say. ‘I want you to get hold of DI Steele, wherever he is, and have him call me at my home right now.’

‘I’m sorry, Sergeant,’ said the proprietor of the Mallard Hotel, as he walked back into the bar, ‘I’ve never seen her before, and neither has anyone else here.’ He handed the photograph back to Ray Wilding. ‘I’ve shown it to my family, and to all the staff on duty, but nobody recognises her.’

‘What about the off-duty people?’

‘There are a couple of them,’ the man admitted, ‘but they all tend to work alongside other people. It’s unlikely that she’d have been seen by one of them and by nobody else.’

‘Fair enough. Look, we may have some posters to distribute around the village. Would you display one for us?’

‘Sure, if you think it’ll help. One of my regulars might have seen her.’

‘Thanks, Mr Law. I’ll bring one down, if it comes to that.’

The detective left the hotel and turned into the first street on the right. He had almost reached the village hall when he saw Stevie Steele heading towards him. He waited until the inspector caught up with him, then led the way into the building. The pair drew stares from the playgroup children, and glances from one or two of their mothers.

‘Any joy?’ Steele asked, as he closed the door of their temporary office.

‘Not in the slightest. I did the deli, the chemist, one coffee shop, the Co-op, the butcher’s, the charity shop, the fruit shop, the Old Clubhouse and the Mallard Hotel. There was one old dear in the Co-op who gave me a moment of hope, until she decided that the girl just looked like her granddaughter.’

‘Is her granddaughter dead?’

‘I never asked. You had no luck either, then?’

‘Nah. I called into the golf club, the pro shop, the bank and the post office, like I said. Not a flicker, anywhere.’

‘And the DCC?’

‘He asked me if he was a suspect.’

‘But he didn’t know her?’

‘Of course he didn’t bloody know her: if he had that’s the first thing I’d have told you. Ray, if you don’t mind me saying so, that was a fucking stupid question. I feel that we’re off the ball here: let’s get back on it again, sharpish.’ He looked at the uniformed constable who was seated at a table by the far wall. ‘Any reports back from the uniforms on the beach?’

‘No, sir,’ he replied. ‘Nothing positive at any rate.’

‘Maybe Tarvil will get a result,’ Wilding suggested, in a slightly wounded tone.

‘If he had, he’d have called it in. . or he’d better have.’

‘Excuse me, sir,’ the PC interrupted. ‘There are faxes for you, from the lab.’

‘More than one?’

‘Two.’

‘Let’s see them.’

He walked across and took them from the man as he held them out. He read through the first quickly. ‘That’s it, Ray,’ he said. ‘Confirmation: the bullet we took from Jane Smith matches the one that killed Stacey Gavin. We’ve got a double murderer on our hands.’

‘Is that good news or bad news, boss?’ Wilding asked. ‘Or was that a stupid question too?’

Steele grinned. ‘No, but that one was verging on the insubordinate. Sorry for snapping at you, mate. I guess being in the spotlight’s getting to me. To answer you, it’s got to be easier to catch one killer than two, so from that viewpoint, it’s probably good. The bad news is that we don’t have a single line of enquiry till we identify the victim, and even then, maybe not.’