Beside him McDermid sighed, her exhaled breath showing clearly as a cloud in the harsh silver light. ‘Why are we taking such care with this guy?’ she asked.
‘Because the big guy McGuire, our headquarters boss, told us to. That’s reason enough for me.’
‘Is he involved in something?’
Regan looked at her. ‘Ken Green’s sort,’ he replied, ‘are always involved in something or other, but I don’t know of anything specific.’
‘But this is an accident. I mean look at it; it’s absolutely clear what happened.’
‘Sure it is. But the head of CID hasn’t seen it, so he doesn’t know that. He’s also a detective, like you’re supposed to be, and so his job, and ours, isn’t just to determine what happened, it’s to determine what made it happen.’
‘Fine,’ she retorted. ‘Well, this is Detective Sergeant McDermid telling him that what happened was that Green was going too fast in bad light and bad road conditions and instead of zigging, he zagged; instead of taking this corner he went straight on. You came damn close to doing the same thing yourself.’
‘Fine,’ said the DI, ‘but don’t tell him until you can prove it, not that one.’ Finally a small shiver escaped him.
‘George,’ McDermid exclaimed, ‘you’re freezing.’
‘I’m fine,’ he insisted.
‘Like hell you are. You’ll catch your death.’
He laughed. ‘If I do you’ll be able to prove to McGuire exactly how it happened. I won’t though. I’ve been out on many a worse night than this.’
‘Maybe, but there’s no need for both of us to be here. You could go and I could get a lift back to Haddington with one of the emergency vehicles; they have to go that way. Go on, get yourself home.’
‘It’s a fucking sight colder there,’ he muttered, under his breath but not as far under as he had thought.
She looked at him. ‘Problems?’ she asked.
He nodded. ‘Jen’s not good; she’s withdrawing from life, while I’m trying to go in the opposite direction.’
Silence grew between them, until Lisa broke it. ‘Earlier on,’ she began, ‘just before we got this call, you were going to ask me out, weren’t you?’
‘Not exactly. For a drink, maybe. .’
‘And then a Chinese, maybe, and then see how it went. . I know how these things play out.’
‘And?’
She checked her watch. ‘With a bit of luck the Chinky in Haddington will still be open when we’re done here. But that would be it. I’m not a social worker, George, I’m not a bereavement counsellor. I’m a work colleague, plus I’m a woman, which puts me on Jen’s side. Anyway, you wouldn’t want me to shag you because I felt sorry for you, would you?’
‘Right now, I wouldn’t be so sure of that.’
‘That’s your dick thinking. Let me tell you something about me. Two years ago, my mother died of pancreatic cancer. She was a fine, big, fit woman, then she was diagnosed and she was dead in six months. My father was devastated, and he still is. He’s been through all sorts of phases; my brother and I have seen them all. First, immediately after Mum died and he was left alone, we had him drinking too much, until he realised that wouldn’t help. Then we had him spending all the hours God sent on the golf course, even though he’s no fucking use at the game and can’t stand it really. After that we had internet dating; that led him to meet a succession of randy middle-aged women, some of them married. . I checked them out if I could. . all of them with an eye for the main chance. Each of those encounters left him feeling a wee bit emptier, a wee bit lonelier and, as well, guilty; for he couldn’t shake the idea that he was betraying Mum.’
Regan shivered again, more fiercely than before. ‘What are you saying to me, Lisa?’ he whispered.
‘I’m saying that there is no cure for him. He tells me that he dreams about Mum, and that in those dreams she isn’t dead, she’s just away for a wee while. That’s good, George, in a way, but for the eighteen hours or so that he’s awake, she is dead, and there’s no escape from that. It’s how his life is and even though it’s unbearably sad for him, it’s how the rest of it will be. We can’t help him, my brother and me. He has to live it. It’s the same with you and Jen; that’s how it is, that’s the hand you’ve been dealt. You have to get on and play it. You say she’s withdrawing. I look at you and I see you going in the opposite direction, dressing like a wannabe fashion plate, thinking about getting across me, or any other woman in your immediate vicinity.’
‘Hey,’ he joked, weakly, ‘I really like my Crombie.’
‘It’s a disguise, George, that’s all. You’re still the same wounded man underneath.’
‘So what do we do?’
‘I told you I’m no counsellor,’ she pointed out, ‘but from what I’ve learned from watching my father, it seems to me that you simply have to face up to it and bear the unbearable pain.’
‘What’s he doing now?’
‘My dad? He paints. He does landscapes, beach scenes, and even the odd still life. He’s not bad; he sells them through a gallery. He does portraits too, but they’re not for sale. They’re always of my mum.’ She reached out and touched his cheek, feeling its cold.
‘Neither Jen nor I could paint the kitchen door,’ he said.
‘No, but I’m sure you’ll find something if you look for it. You’re better off than Dad. You’ve still got each other. . unless you drift too far apart. Go on, man; I really can handle this scene on my own. Get yourself home.’
Regan looked at her. ‘Are you sure you’re not a social worker?’ he asked, then turned up the collar of his silk blend jacket and headed up the path that led towards his car.
Sixty
‘Mario,’ said Professor Joe Hutchinson, ‘you really must stop doing this to me. You people have sent me four bodies this week already, three of those in pretty poor condition. That was bad enough, but I managed to pick my way through all of them; indeed I venture to suggest that I’ve done a bloody good job. In the wake of that I was looking forward to putting my feet up this weekend, listening to some music, and playing with my grandchildren. I stress the word “was”, for I’ve just had a call from the manager of the mortuary telling me that you’ve dumped a fifth on me, and you want him dealt with as soon as possible. My friend, I have a fee structure which I believe is fair to both of us, but if you want me in that examination room before Monday morning, it’s going to be doubled. Not just my cost, but that of my assistant. If you’re not in a position to authorise that, you can find somebody else.’
McGuire’s smile at the pathologist’s tirade drew a quizzical look across the breakfast table from his partner Paula. ‘What’s up?’ she mouthed, but he put a finger to his lips.
‘You’re a fucking old extortionist,’ he said.
‘I’m so wounded by that ageist remark that I have a notion to make it treble time, but I’ll give you ten seconds to accept my original offer. . unless you feel you have to seek authorisation. If that’s the case I’ll feel that my ability is being called into question and it’ll be four times.’
‘It’s a deal, Joe. Just you send me an invoice and it’ll be paid.’
‘Who’s the client?’
‘He’s a solicitor called Ken Green.’
‘I know that name.’
The chief superintendent chuckled. ‘That’s probably because his clients have sent you a few customers in your time. He was a defence brief, high profile, with one of those numbers that hoodlums commit to memory.’
‘That’s the chap. What happened to him? Disgruntled defendant catching up on release?’
‘No, he was killed in his car yesterday evening, on a back road in East Lothian, up past Haddington. It took four hours to extract him from the wreckage; from what my DS told me he was pretty bendy when they did.’
‘A road traffic accident?’ the professor shouted into his phone. ‘You’re sending me a blinking RTA on a Saturday morning?’