'Inspector,' the customs man called out. 'The people from the Amsterdam flight should begin coming through in a minute. We'll check the non-EU passport holders at that desk there.' He pointed through a one-way window which looked out on to a narrow corridor.
'Apart from the four cards that were drawn to your attention by the Dutch people, there have been six more completed during this flight, five of them by males.'
McGuire and Neville crossed the room to stand beside him. 'We've seen a lot of your unit out here in the last few days,' the officer said, casually. 'Is there a major alert?'
'Just business as usual,' McGuire murmured, as the first passenger, a tiny Arab, wearing a headdress, made his way to the passport control point. He was swaying slightly, as if he had spent too long in the bar at Schiphol.
'Hmm,' the man grunted moodily. 'Meaning "mind your own business", I suppose.'
McGuire treated him to his most dazzling smile. 'Absolutely,' he said.
'That's nice. We are on the same team, after all.'
'No we're not,' the policeman murmured. 'You'd nick me in a minute if I was out there with a extra bottle of duty free…' He pointed through the glass at the Arab, who was almost weighed down to the ground by the polythene bag which he was carrying. '… just like that bloke there.'
'What?' exclaimed the customs officer. 'Excuse me for a moment, please.' He hurried from the room.
Left alone, McGuire and Neville looked on in silence as one by one, the passengers who had completed landing cards were checked through. Three were Asians, one had an arm missing: none bore the remotest resemblance to any of the Hawkins photofit treatments.
'You know, Karen,' said the inspector, as they made their way out of the Edinburgh Airport terminal building and headed for the car park, "I am beginning to get just a wee bit bored by this surveillance.
Just ever so slightly.'
'I know how you feel.'
'Huh,' he chuckled. 'At least you've got something out of it — even if he is bent.'
40
'The missing heroin, Brian,' asked Skinner, 'enough to do the job was it?'
'At least twice, sir, or so the hospital pharmacist told us.'
'And there's a definite link between Gopal and Gaynor and Nolan Weston?'
'He entertained them to a curry night up at his place. The mother showed Stevie and me the present they gave him. She assumed that the Prof had brought the current Mrs Weston.'
'Must have been her night off,' the DCC chuckled. 'So what do you propose to do now?' He looked at Mackie across the desk, then switched his gaze to Andy Martin.
'We're going to have to re-interview Weston,' said the Head ofCID.
'Brian and I were contemplating picking him up and taking him to St Leonard's for a formal interview, under caution. If he was an ordinary Mr Joe Criminal, we'd do that without question.'
'But he isn't. Look, gentlemen. Professor Weston isn't going anywhere; he doesn't know that he's still under suspicion. Wouldn't it be better to get some answers out ofDr Gopal before you do anything to unsettle him?'
Mackie frowned. 'That could take another couple of weeks, unless we put out a Europe-wide alert for his car.'
'You know what he drives?'
'A silver Alfa Romeo 146,' the superintendent answered. 'Registration T197 VSG. But I wasn't serious about the alert: not at this stage anyway.'
'I should hope not. We can wait for the boy to get back from his holidays; I do not see him and Weston as potential fugitives.' Skinner shot a glance at Martin. 'How are the press on this one?'
'They haven't forgotten about it, if that's what you mean. Alan Royston's a bit worried that if we don't give them something concrete soon, the tabloids will start writing speculative stories. Joan Ball's had a couple of reporters at her door; Christ knows what she's told them.'
'We'd better quieten them down then,' said the DCC. 'Andy, have a word with the Fiscal's office. Ask Pettigrew to schedule a Fatal Accident Inquiry into Mrs Weston's death for some date in the future, and to let the media know. That'll get them off Royston's back, without him having to tell them any porkies.'
'What if we don't turn up anything before the FAI date?' asked Mackie. 'What if Gopal doesn't come back?'
Skinner shrugged his shoulders. 'In that case, it goes ahead. We put the facts before a Sheriff and jury and let them decide. If they bring in a suicide verdict — and you never know, they might: juries have done dafter things in the past — then that's what it is. If they call it unlawful killing, the investigation stays open.
'But Gopal will surface again, I'll bet. This pharmacist person isn't going to tell him about your visit, is she?'
'No, not a chance.'
'Then he doesn't know that he's got anything to run away from.'
'Not even if he injected Mrs Weston?'
Skinner shook his head, and pushed himself out of his chair as if he hated it: which in fact, he did. 'If he did that, and whether or not the Prof is involved…', he pointed a finger at Mackie,'… you must not necessarily assume one from the other. There could have been an entirely separate relationship between Gaynor and Gopal for all you know… the likelihood is that he's taken himself off for a while just to ensure that there's no aftermath.
'If that's the case, when he hears that an FAI's been scheduled, he'll assume that no one's connected him.'
The big man beamed at his colleagues. 'You came to me for counsel and advice, gentlemen. You might think I'm the last person who should be telling you this, but: be patient.
'For what it's worth, I don't believe that Professor Weston played any part in his wife's death. He's been interviewed twice by senior policemen — Brian, you've seen him both times — and from what I've heard, his story hasn't wavered. You guys are used to dealing with professional liars; this man's an amateur, yet you haven't seen a chink in him.
'As far as Gopal is concerned, who knows about him? If I wasn't still tied to this office, I might have a go at finding out myself. But since I am…
'Let this investigation simmer for a bit lads. It's a mystery now, but it won't be for ever.'
'Okay, boss,' Martin sighed, wearily. 'How much longer will you be on this side of the corridor, d'you think?'
'A few weeks yet, probably,' Skinner replied. 'I had some good news from Jimmy yesterday though. The Spanish consultant was a pleased with the results of the tests they did last Tuesday. He's given him the all clear to drive, so he and Chrissie will be starting home on Monday.
'Once he's back home, we'll see what his own doctor, and our own ME, have to say about coming back to work.'
'What'll you do when he comes back, boss?' asked Mackie, with one of his rare smiles.
'Brian,' said the DCC earnestly, 'I think I'll spend a week just cruising the streets.'
41
Neil Mcllhenney sat in the waiting area of the Department of Clinical Oncology becoming acquainted with a new companion. He had never known Fear before, not until Sarah had made the introduction after bringing Olive home from her first visit to the Western General.
Of course there had been the odd scary moment in his life, the occasional anxiety. He remembered… he must have been seven or eight at the time… waiting for his father to come home, having upset his mother, and suspecting that he might be in for a real leathering. Then there was the hour he had spent in the corridor of the Maternity Unit, waiting for Lauren to be born. On another night early in his police career he had found himself in a cul-de-sac, in uniform, with his back to the wall and four large, threatening youths blocking the exits.
Those had just been minor crises, mere butterflies in his expansive stomach, and each one had had a happy outcome. His father had decided that the wait had been punishment enough, and had lashed him with his tongue rather than his belt. There had been the indescribable miracle of Lauren's birth, the moment of holding his first child, for the first time. And on that third occasion. Constable Mario McGuire had appeared behind the four young thugs, a Satanic smile on his face as he contemplated the mess that he and Mcllhenney would leave behind them in the alley.