‘Nor should he have. Those visits aren’t on any record, and nobody in the prison population ever knew they happened. It’ll be the same with this and future calls I may pay on him, for reasons that you’ll understand. “Lifer talks to chief constable.” If that ever got out into the prison population or, worse, into the tabloids, it would be disastrous. That’s why Rab McGonagall at Shotts always cooperated with me and it’s why I trust you will too. When I come here I’m visiting you, and nobody else, not even your staff should ever see Lennie and me in the same room together.’
‘I don’t know if I can,’ Elgin replied. ‘I’m responsible for your personal security.’
‘You’re the second person who’s made that mistake in the last couple of days. I go where I want; I can look after myself.’
‘But this man is a multiple murderer, and you put him away. Doesn’t that worry you?’
‘It’s never bothered either of us before. Big Lennie and I had our head-to-head years ago and we’re both still around. He’s no threat to anyone any more, and least of all to me.’
‘Tell me about him, his background, please. There are gaps in my knowledge.’
‘OK,’ said Skinner. ‘You know that Lennie Plenderleith is a very clever guy. He’s blossomed in prison. But you may not know that he’s also very wealthy. As a young man, he worked for a criminal, a guy called Tony Manson, who virtually adopted him. Manson was successful, so successful that I never managed to lock him up. When he died, he left his all to Lennie, including a trust fund in Liechtenstein. The big man has no interest in any future criminal activity; indeed his interests lie in avoiding it. You can trust him absolutely, as I do.’
‘I see.’
‘So we understand each other?’
Elgin nodded. ‘We do. I’ll go and get him.’ Skinner rose, but the director held up a hand. ‘No, stay there,’ he said. ‘You can use my office. It’s the most private room in this place; I have it swept for bugs every month.’ He left by a second door, not the one that led from his outer office.
The chief constable waited. He glanced round the modest room, noting that the pictures on the walls were cheap, mass production prints. If Elgin had chosen them, he was still in his early Vettriano period. If not, whoever had decorated his office had been cost conscious. As he sat, he felt his phone vibrate in his shirt pocket, then heard the ring tone. He took it out and saw ‘Alex home’ in the window. He flipped it open. ‘Hi, daughter,’ he said.
‘Can you speak?’ she asked as she usually did when calling his cell phone.
‘Briefly.’
‘What happened last night? I’ve been expecting you to call to tell me.’
‘I’ve been busy. More happened than I have time to discuss. Andy and I are fine now, but you and I need to talk. Not now, though. You doing anything tonight?’
‘Movie with Gina and Genevieve Cockburn. I could come to Gullane tomorrow.’
‘We’re having Maggie, her sister and Stephanie for lunch. Come and join us; you and I can grab a minute in private.’
‘No, I’ll drop out of the movie; the girls won’t mind, if I say it’s family business.’
‘It will be, for we’ll all eat together, something we don’t do often enough. Head on out whenever you like. Aileen and I probably won’t be back till after five, but Trish and the kids will be pleased to see you. See you then.’ He ended the call, and had just switched off the phone when the door opened.
The man who came into the room was massive; six feet seven inches tall, according to his file. . and according to his Wikipedia page, as Skinner discovered later. . although that could have been an inch or two short of the truth, and with shoulders that seemed as wide as the entrance he had just used. His hair was lustrous, with more grey in it than the chief recalled from their last meeting, and although it was still winter and he was in prison, his skin was ruddy and healthy. He was forty-five years old, but looked half a decade younger.
‘Hello, Bob,’ he said as he sat in the second visitor chair. ‘Good to see you. I thought my new digs might be a bit far away for you to visit.’
‘Nah. There’s a new road out of Glasgow that wasn’t finished when you went inside. It cuts the journey down. My wife has constituency business in Glasgow today, so this visit fitted in. I dropped her off, and I’ll pick her up on the way back. How are you doing? How does this new place compare with Shotts?’
‘It’s warmer in the winter, I’ll tell you that. Plus, the air’s cleaner and it doesn’t smell of piss. That’s the single worst thing about being inside, even now that nobody has to dump their leavings in the morning.’ Lennie Plenderleith smiled. ‘Congratulations, by the way, twice. On the new job, and on getting married. Mind you, after the things you’ve said to me about politicians over the last few years, I can’t get my head round you having married one.’
‘Seven,’ said Skinner.
‘What?’
‘Seven years. That’s how long I’ve been paying private visits to you in the nick. And you know what happens in one more.’
Lennie nodded. ‘Oh yes. Thanks to that very generous judge who fixed the punishment period of my life sentence at eight years, on the basis of advice that I never saw, I can apply for parole.’
‘Are you going to?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Why not?’ asked Skinner, taken aback.
‘Honestly? Because I don’t know that I’ve done enough time. If I get out next year two things could happen. The right-wingers might use me as a great big club to beat the system with. That might have an effect on other guys coming up for release; it might make the parole board more cautious. On the other side, the huggies will depict me as a poster boy for the system, and that won’t be fair either. No other prisoner has my resources; they’d all be held back.’
‘Then why don’t you help them?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Tony Manson left you filthy rich, man. You’ve got more money than you know what to do with. Have you ever thought about using some of it to set up a foundation to fund Open University study by long-term prisoners with potential? Len, you’re a fucking poster boy already, for more than just the huggies as you call them; while you’ve been inside you’ve picked up degrees in criminology and psychology and combined the two in a PhD.’
‘No,’ Plenderleith admitted. ‘I never have thought about it. But I will. I see one problem right away. Who’s going to assess applications for grants?’
‘You are.’
‘Not on my own. You can do it with me.’
‘I couldn’t, not in my job.’
‘Then how about your wife? She was Justice Minister once, wasn’t she?’
‘I’ll ask her. As for the parole thing, if you apply, I’ll be asked for a view. I’ll back you, and I’ll even offer you a job.’
‘You’re kidding! As what?’
‘As a consultant, a profiler. There is a need for people with your qualifications, and let’s face it, your background gives you the edge on anyone else out there. Think about it.’
Lennie frowned. ‘OK, I will; I promise.’
‘While you’re doing that I could probably get you open prison status, if you want.’
‘I don’t.’ The response was swift. ‘I’m in jail for murder, Bob. I came to terms with that fact the day I was sentenced, and I’m happy to stay in a closed prison.’
‘You don’t have any problems?’
The huge prisoner chuckled. ‘What can you bench press these days, in kilos?’
‘Twice my age, plus VAT.’
‘Mmm. That’s about a hundred and fifteen, yes? I can do two hundred, still, and I make sure that there are plenty of people in the gym to see me do it. I’ve followed that practice since I’ve been inside, so I’ve never had any problems. I am courteous to staff, I am civil to my fellow prisoners, but I am aloof. I have no friends, and I have no enemies. I’m sorted, Chief.’ He gazed at his visitor. ‘Now what do you want to ask me?’
‘Why should I want to ask you anything?’ Skinner exclaimed.
‘I’m a graduate psychologist, Bob. I can read body language. You’re not quite at ease; you’ve come to see me, but you’ve got an ulterior motive and you’re guilty about it.’