Quintin Jardine - Dead And Buried

‘Did you ever tell Sarah this?’

‘How could I?’

‘Didn’t you tell anyone, not even your friend Kevin, the psychiatrist you saw?’

‘I only tell Kevin what he needs to know; some stuff I can’t share with him.’

‘You carried all that inside you, for all those years?’

‘Yup.’

‘So what’s happened?’

‘You have. They’ve stopped. I don’t dream of Myra any more. When I do, it’s you I see.’

Her eyebrows came together, slightly. ‘Are you telling me that I’m a substitute for your dead wife?’

He squeezed her hand, firmly, but not hard enough to hurt. ‘Not for a moment. You’re nothing like her, nothing at all. She and I had little in common, other than the fact that we were crazy about each other. You and I, we’ve been drawn together by qualities we share. No, Aileen, what I’m telling you is that I believe, I honestly do, that Myra’s finally satisfied that I’ve found the person I should be with.’

Her eyes glistened. ‘Won’t you miss her, if she never comes back at night?’

‘No, for all I have to do to see her is look at my older daughter. She’s as like her mother as two people can be,’ he smiled again, ‘although she’s a little less wild, I’m glad to say.’ He drank the last of his bottled water. ‘So here I am, saved at last. Yes, my marriage is over, and that pains me, because however well Sarah and I manage it, the kids will not have the upbringing that we had planned. Despite that, when I look into the future, although I don’t have a clue what it holds, I see you in it, and that makes me. . I’ll use your word. It makes me content. No, I’ll go further: it makes me feel happy in a way I haven’t for the last twenty years.’

‘Would you like me to chuck it?’

‘Chuck what?’

‘Politics. I wouldn’t be the first just to up and walk away from it.’

Bob leaned back, his scepticism written all over his face. ‘Sure, you do that,’ he said slowly, ‘and I’ll give up my job as well and we’ll do what with our time? I’m sure I could lecture in criminology. You could go back to civil engineering. We’d live happily ever after, except we’d both be bored stiff during the day, and we’d both regret what might have been. No, my dear, you stay the course: you’ve got your destiny to fulfil.’

‘What’s that?’

‘To be First Minister of Scotland. What else?’

‘You really believe I can do the job?’

‘For the next ten years, given the strength of your party, and as long as you want to after that: I know it, and so do you; don’t try to kid either of us.’

‘Now there’s a word: kid. What if I want one?’

‘Then have one: we’ll need to wait until my divorce is through, if I’m to honour part of my agreement with Sarah. But if that’s what you want and we can make it happen, why not? Ministers have had paternity leave before now. Where’s the difference?’

‘None, I’ll grant you. Can you picture me breast-feeding in the parliament chamber?’

‘Don’t start me picturing your breasts at all,’ Bob murmured. ‘I have a busy afternoon: I have things to tie up before I leave for London.’

‘Will I see you before you go?’

‘I don’t know for sure. Sarah and I are seeing our lawyer at five this evening to look at a draft separation agreement, then tomorrow I’ll have to spend time with Mark, the Jazzer, and Seonaid. .’

‘The Jazzer?’

‘James Andrew, my younger son: we used to call him Jazz before we started using his given names.’

‘What’s he like?’

‘Rough and tumble, bright.’

‘Like you?’

‘He’s showing all the signs, I fear. Anyway, I need to give them some spoiling before I’m off, then on Saturday night I’m having dinner with number-one daughter, Alex. Sunday morning, I’ve got a golf tie that I can’t postpone, because it involves other people. How about late Sunday afternoon, at your Edinburgh place?’

‘What if the press are staking it out?’

‘They won’t be.’

‘How can you be so sure?’

‘Because Special Branch are keeping an eye on you when you’re in Edinburgh. They’ll move them on.’

She gasped. ‘Did you think of asking me before you did that?’

‘Yes, and then I decided not to. You’re First Minister in waiting: I’d do the same for anyone. It’s not just about privacy; there’s the security aspect as well.’

‘Is that something I’ll have to live with, if I get this job?’

‘You’ll be entitled to it, but it won’t be forced on you. It won’t be obtrusive, I promise, and when we’re able to come absolutely clean about our relationship, there’ll be less call for it.’

‘You mean you’ll be all the protection I need?’

‘Something like that.’ He caught the waiter’s eye and signalled for the bill. ‘Sunday it is then, around five?’

‘Okay. I’ll cook something: that’ll probably finish us.’ She fell silent, as the bill arrived: Bob paid in cash. ‘This London trip,’ she continued, after the waiter had gone to fetch their coats, ‘you can’t tell me what it’s about?’

‘It’s sensitive.’

‘My security clearance is pretty high, you know.’

He laughed. ‘You’re right, it is: I’d forgotten that. Okay, between us, there’s a situation in the security services. The directors want someone from outside to run an inquiry, and I’m the man.’

Aileen whistled. ‘Must be serious for them to bring in an outsider.’

‘How does the word “treason” sit with you? I’ve investigated everything else in my time, but this is a first.’

‘My God, that serious? It’ll take a couple of weeks, you reckon?’

‘That’s what I’ve allowed, but to be honest, I haven’t a clue.’

‘Where are you staying?’

‘They’ve booked us into a hotel called the Royal Horseguards. Why do you ask?’

‘There’s a meeting at the Home Office next Wednesday,’ she said, ‘to discuss progress on the new casinos. Next day, there’s a session on immigration. The Home Secretary’s chairing the first one, so I have to go. In that event, I might as well stay and do the second meeting. Lena hasn’t booked the accommodation yet. Wouldn’t it be a coincidence if we wound up in the same hotel?’

‘It would,’ Bob agreed. ‘It would also be fairly embarrassing for the officer who’ll be accompanying me on the trip. I could rely on that person’s discretion, I’m sure, but I’d rather not have to, if you see what I mean; personal and professional overlapping, and all that.’

‘True. I hadn’t thought about that.’

‘On the other hand, if you found that you were booked into, say, the Charing Cross Hotel. . When I’m away, I always go for a walk before I turn in. Sometimes I stay out for hours.’

Dottie Shannon lived in a flat in Elbe Street, so close to the police station in Queen Charlotte Street that she always came to work in uniform. She was about to go home to change for her appointment with the deputy chief constable when DS Pye appeared in the open doorway of her office.

‘Got a minute?’ he asked.

‘Just one, Sammy, literally. I have a meeting out of the office this afternoon.’

‘That’s funny, so has my boss.’

The inspector’s curiosity was triggered. ‘Indeed? Where’s Mr McGuire’s, did he say?’

‘Fettes, half three. I won’t keep you, if you’re in a rush. I just wanted to know whether you’d had any reports back from the hospitals about our failed armed robber.’

Shannon took longer than normal to reply: she was still pondering the fact that she and Detective Superintendent Mario McGuire had appointments in the same place, at the same time. Fettes was a big building, and there was always plenty going on there, but still. . To a good copper there was no such thing as coincidence. ‘No,’ she said finally. ‘No, I haven’t. Nothing positive at any rate. Our lad hasn’t turned up at the Eastern, the Royal or the Western General looking for treatment. I widened the search as far as Livingston, but no joy there either. If he does arrive anywhere we’ll hear about it. . or you will at least. I told my colleagues to pass any information to you.’