Quintin Jardine - Skinner's trail

Barratt stared downwards, at the endless folds of his ' stomach. `Ainscow? He was some sort of pal of Tony's. He'd been gettin' too keen on a lassie up at Powderhall — one of Tony's favourites, I think — and Tony sent him down here tae see Big Joanne, tae sort of take his mind off her, ken. Big Joanne's good at that. She's heid girl in there.' He glanced, seedily at Martin. 'In every way.'

`When was this?'

`A right few months ago now.'

`How did they get on?'-

`Like Tony meant them to. I told you, she's good, is Big Joanne.'

`How often does he come to your place?'

`He doesnae, any more. That place isnae one of the nicest, One night when he was in, his car was damaged. He kicked up hell's delight. Since then he's phoned up, and the big yin's seen him at her place. She's got a wee flat in King's Landing, round by the Waterfront pub.'

`That's an unusual thing for a working girl to do, isn't it?' Barratt nodded. 'Aye. But the big beast was quite keen on the boy, too. The rougher they are, the better she likes them and, from what I can gather, Ainscow s a rough type. Pleasant on the surface, but once the doors were closed, a cold hard bastard. Right up her street.'

`Has he called in for her lately — like this week?'

The man shook his great head slowly. Naw, No' this week. He'd have been wasting his time, onyway. The big yin phoned in sick on Monday. Havnae seen her since then.'

‘You've checked out the address?'

`Yes, sir,' said Maggie Rose. 'It's a one-bedroom flat on the top floor. She's on the board at the door — and you won't believe what her surname is.'

`Try me,' said Skinner.

`Virtue.'

He grinned. 'What's so odd about that? I 'know at least two traffic wardens called Good!'

The Fettes Avenue building wore the quiet feel of evening. Skinner, Rose and Martin sat in the detective superintendent's office.

Did you have a look at the place?'

`Yes, for a while,' said Martin. 'No sign of movement.'

`Okay, let's pay the lady a call, and see if she's got a house guest. I want it done by the book. Maggie, dig up a Sheriff and get a proper search warrant, in case it's needed. Take someone else with you when you go, a bit of extra muscle in case he is there and doesn't feel like being reasonable. Big McIlhenney’s' wife can always use the overtime pay. Take him.'

Rose nodded. 'Yes, sir, I'll tell him. Aren't you coming though?'

Skinner smiled. 'Maggie, I'm a family man again, and I’ve missed too many of my small son's bathtimes lately. I intend to spend my evenings at home from now on, whenever I can.

Privileges of rank, and all that, as both of you will find out some day.'

`Does that mean,' asked Martin, with a show of innocence, `that if we nick Ainscow we don't phone to tell you, but wait till you come in tomorrow?'

`No, son, if that happens, you phone me, but if Sarah answers you'd better disguise your voice!'

`What do I put down as the purpose of the search warrant?' asked Rose.

`Investigation of a conspiracy to import controlled substances. It's all we've got that's solid enough. Although, maybe — ' Skinner paused. 'No, forget it. That's enough, lets us nick him. Once we've done that, we'll just have to catch our man and persuade him to talk, to make it stand up in court.'

`When do we go in?' asked Martin.

`Normally you'd say dawn, wouldn't you. But this time let's make it late evening. Let them get settled down for the night, then go up and thump the door. Say eleven o'clock. If Ainscow's there, it'll be all the easier if his pants are hanging over the bedroom chair!'

King's Landing was peaceful in the Scottish summer gloaming. The block, one of the first built during the revival of Leith as a living community, was framed against the deepening blue of the northern sky.

`Thank Christ, there's no entry phone this time,' muttered Martin as they approached the entrance. He pushed the door open and led the way up the twisting stairs. On the top landing there were two doors, facing each other. He glanced at each, and on the one on the left, read the name 'Virtue' on a small brass plate set just above a glass spyhole. Beckoning to Rose and Mcllhenney, he strode towards it. There was a bell push, but Martin ignored it, and thumped the surface with the side of his closed fist.

`Joanne he called. 'It's the police. Mr Martin. Open up, please.

He stepped back so that he, and his companions, could be seen clearly through the viewing glass. He listened, and eventually he heard the creak of a floorboard from within the flat. The door swung open slightly, as far as its safety chain would allow. Joanne Virtue peered around its edge. Her blond, hair was tousled, and held back by a band, and she wore no make-up, yet she was still striking. But there was something in her eyes that Martin had not seen before, an expression that was far from her usual cheerful self-confidence — something that he would not expect to see on a woman of her profession, even when receiving a visit from the police. Martin looked at her and saw fear in her face.

Nevertheless, she tried to stick to type. 'What is it, Mr Martin? Some bloody time this! An' three of yis, an' all!'

`Is he here, Joanne?'

There was a flicker, a momentary tensing around those eyes. 'Who?'

`You know who. Paul Ainscow?'

`Naw! Paul's no here. Why should he be?'

`Because he's been missing for about the same time that you've been away from the sauna. Your spell off must have done you good. You look pretty healthy to me. Now open up and let us in. We want to interview Ainscow in connection with serious offences, and we've got reason to believe that he might be here. We've got a Sheriff's warrant to come in, so let that chain off the door.'

`Look, he's no' here. Why don't y'all just fuck off!'

Martin's jaw tightened. 'Sorry, Joanne, I'm not kidding. Either you let us in or that door comes off its hinges.'

The woman opened her mouth as if to argue, then all at once gave in. The door closed, its chain rattled as it was released, and then it swung open fully.

`Right,' said Martin. 'That's sensible. Listen, we're not here to hurt you or lift you or anything else. It's Ainscow we want.' ‘But ah tell ye-'

`We have to see for ourselves. Now, you wait out here with DI Rose, while Neil and I search the place.' He brushed past her into the flat, Mcllhenney on his heels.

`Careful, Neil,' he warned. The first of the three doors off the hall was ajar. He turned back to Joanne Virtue. 'Bedroom?'

She nodded reluctantly. 'Aye. And the bog on the right, and the living room at the far end. The kitchen's off that. Mind ye don't break anything.

Martin pushed the door open and stepped quickly inside, tensed and ready for action. The room was empty, yet full of signs of recent occupancy. The musky smell of sex hung in the air. The bed was rumpled, and both pillows were crushed. There were night tables on either side, and on each lay a mug. Martin picked one up. It was half full of what looked like coffee, and it was still slightly warm. He checked the other. It was almost drained, but the dregs had not yet dried to a stain. He stepped back into the hall, signalling to Mcllhenney to open the bathroom door. An aerosol can of shaving gel and a razor lay on the shelf above the basin. Quickly they checked the living room and kitchen. They too were empty, but further signs of a guest were strewn all around.

`Okay, ladies,' Martin called. 'You can come in now.'

A few seconds later, Joanne Virtue stepped hesitantly into the room, with Maggie Rose close behind her.

`Okay, Joanne,' snapped Martin. 'No crap. How long has he been here? Since Monday?'

`Sunday night, late,' she said softly.