Gallery Whispers

'I've let myself get really out of shape,' she gasped, 'since I started with the firm. From now on, I'm going to do more of this, and go to the gym twice a week instead of once a month. You're twice my age, and twice as fit.'

'Christ, you'll be joining the girls' rugby team next.'

'No fear, Pops. Bad for the boobs, I've always thought.'

He stopped abruptly, beneath the isolated house which was the only sign of civilisation along that stretch of coastline. 'Why is it,' he said, breathing only slightly hard, 'that people always seems to pussyfoot around these days when they want to tell me something? Am I that much of a bear? Come on, kid. Out with it.'

'What do you mean?' gasped Alex.

'I mean that you could have done three laps ofHolyrood Park just to burn off energy. You didn't need to come down here. You're working up to telling me something. Let me guess: it's about you and Andy.'

She looked up at him, screwing up her eyes against the watery winter sun. 'Has he been talking?'

'We did have a chat, but it didn't amount to much. I told him that Sarah and I wouldn't get involved. So I'm right, then.'

Alex shifted her footing on the shingle on which they stood, and gazed across the calm water towards the Fidra light. 'Yes, you're right. I'm moving out this afternoon.'

'Bugger.' He frowned, his mouth tightening. 'What is it about our family these days, that we can never manage to all be happy at the same time?'

'Look, Pops,' she said, in an attempt at reassurance, 'it's not that bad. We're not breaking off the engagement; just stopping living together for a while. It'll do us good in the long run.'

'Maybe it will; and maybe I should even be pleased. I can still be old-fashioned from time to time; the concept of living together before marriage is not one I was brought up to believe in. Nonetheless, in my experience when you take one step back in a relationship, it's very difficult not to take another; before you know it there's a gap which can be very difficult to close.'

'We'll be all right,' Alex insisted. 'We just need some breathing space, that's all.'

'No, my lovely daughter,' he said firmly, 'that's not true. Andy doesn't need breathing space; you do. So don't go pinning the blame on him; not in that way anyway. Right now, you're finding this relationship stifling — okay, maybe that's his fault — but you're the one who's making all the decisions.'

'Do you think I'm right?'

'That's irrelevant, because I'd support you even if I thought you were wrong.'

'No it's not. It's important to me. Do you think I'm right?'

'As it happens, I do. Secretly, when you got engaged, then moved in with Andy, I thought that you were giving away too much of your life too soon. Now that you've decided to claim at least some of it back, I can only be pleased — not that I want you to tell Andy that, mind.'

'Why didn't you say?'

'I said plenty when your relationship began, remember, and caused mayhem. For a while, I lost my daughter and my best friend. I don't want that to happen again. Anyway, you're a big girl now; you've got the right to make your own mistakes. And, hopefully, to learn from them.'

He smiled, suddenly, his face lighting up. 'Now,' he said, giving her sweat-slicked pony-tail a quick tug, 'you're going to learn the folly of buggering up my Saturday morning. We're nowhere near halfway through this run, so let's get back to it… and at a decent pace too.

You want to get fit, kid? Okay, just follow me and find out what it takes.'

26

'You want some time off, Andy?'

'You think I need it?'

'I don't know, pal. But if you feel you do, I'll accommodate you.'

Andy Martin smiled across the chief constable's low table. 'With all that we've got on our plate at the moment, you're offering me leave? Bob, what you're really doing is asking whether I can keep my eye on the ball, with Alex moving out and all. Given the example of Neil Mcllhenney, I'd be no man at all if I couldn't. Anyway, I respect what she's doing, and our long-term plans haven't changed; she's still wearing the ring.

'Now, can we get on with our Monday briefing, as usual?'

Skinner nodded. He was in uniform, in preparation for a meeting of the police board, and shifted uncomfortably in his seat as he sipped his coffee. 'Okay, let's do that. What do I need to know?'

'The main item is the Weston investigation. The son received a letter from his mother on Saturday morning. It was posted in Edinburgh on the day after her death.'

'Was it indeed? Prints?'

'Covered in them: at least five different thumbs, for a start. Some of them will be Post Office staff, and one is Gaynor's.'

'Are you trying to trace the postmen, to eliminate them?'

Martin shook his head. 'No. Their union hates that; they'd probably strike if we suggested printing them all. Anyway, it's not necessary; when we find the person we're after, and his dabs match one on the envelope, that's fine, it'll be another piece of evidence. If they don't'

'It could help the defence,' Skinner suggested.

'True, but I'm not going to start sweating about it till we catch the man.'

'Could Mrs Weston have given the letter to anyone else to post for her? Have we established whether she had any visitors during the day?'

'As far as we can. Joan Ball, her neighbour, looked in on her in the morning. Then, in the afternoon, she made a few phone calls to her office. With hindsight, it's clear she was putting her affairs in order.

However there's no evidence that she had any visitors other than Miss Ball, and the person who helped her die. So it's unlikely that she gave the letter to someone else to post.'

Martin paused. 'However, all that aside, we've got a new name to go on. Maggie and Steele found it on her computer diary. A man, called Deacey.'

'What are they doing to trace him?'

'The usual. Step one: check whether he's known to us. He isn't; according to our intelligence unit there are no Deaceys — first or second name — known to the police in Scotland. Step two: look up the telephone directory. They've done that already, and come up empty.

No "Deacey" listed in Edinburgh, the Lothians, Greater Glasgow, Fife or Tayside. So this morning they'll check with the Department of Social Security, the Registrar General, the Passport Office and the Driving Licence Agency.'

'Is he a serious contender, d'you think?'

'Right now, Bob, he's our only contender.'

'Well, let's just find him and hope. I'd really like to get a clear-up on this one. Too many unresolved possibilities if we don't; too many whispers, too many fingers left pointing, at Professor Weston, or at his son.'

'Fine, but just how much of our resources do we commit to this?'

'As much as is necessary. We cannot be seen to have backed off from this investigation in any way, whatever our personal feelings might be.' Skinner paused. 'For what it's worth, my very private belief is that, given her circumstances, Mrs Weston had every moral right to do what she did, and if she needed someone to help her, so be it.'

'Would you apply that belief to Olive Mcllhenney?' asked Martin, solemnly.

'You know about that?'

'Yes. Brian called me on Saturday. He had it from Maggie, via Mario.'

'Well, God forbid that it should come to that, but if it does, then yes, I believe that Olive should be able to choose her moment… and that Neil should be free to be part of it, should he choose. What about you?'

The Head ofCID took a sip from his cup, and slowly replaced it in its saucer. 'I had this conversation last week with Mackie,' he began, 'in a roundabout way, but mostly I hid my views behind the law then.