You do not ram a stiletto into someone's head just for his credit card. You do not garrotte a man and his wife because you want his cigars.
'On top of all that, you have the professional and political links, and the fact that the three kil ings have al taken place within a two-week period. I can't be wrong, can I?'
'Well… Motherwell could win the Premier League next year,' said the inspector. 'I think the odds would be about the same. No, you're right. But what makes you think it's the same man who did al three?'
He heard a soft familiar laugh on the other end of the line. 'That's a question none of my distinguished American law enforcement colleagues has asked as yet. Who says I do think that? We're talking in terms of one man, because that's the way the hare started running, but it's no certainty at all. Still…' There was a pause. 'We're into hunch territory now, but my feeling is that it was. Like I said, no one's questioned that assumption; not til you.' He paused. 'I'd expect no less of you, mate, but… My gut still says it's one man. There's been an efficiency about each murder that's like a trademark. If I'm wrong and there's a team of them out there, we're in real fucking trouble!
'On that basis, the FBI's flexing its muscles. Joe has agents checking al passenger movements through Greater Buffalo Airport, McCarran in Las Vegas and Great Falls International… that's around atfcidred miles from Helena, and it's where we're going this afternoon. People go to Vegas from all over the States for all sorts of reasons, but if we find someone who's been there, been to Buffalo, and been to Montana, all in the last couple of weeks, he's going to be put under the microscope.'
'It's right up your street, all this, isn't it,' Mcllhenney observed. 'I don't mean burying your father-in-law; I mean jetting across umpteen states with an FBI big-wig on an investigation. If it wasn't for the circumstances, you'd be like a kid with the key to an ice-cream factory.'
'You're not wrong there,' Skinner admitted. 'I'm glad Joe asked me to get involved, otherwise I'd have gone out of my tree just sitting here doing nothing. God, I might even have started my own investigation.'
'That's fine,' said his friend quietly, 'until Monday, when Sarah gets over there.'
'What do you mean?'
'I mean that when she does, you should only be thinking of one thing; that she's lost her parents. She's borne up very well in Scotland, but when she gets back home, it's going to hit her hard. She's going to want to see them. She's going to want to see where they died. She's going to have a lot to come to terms with.
'So, Bob…' it did not occur to either of them that Mcllhenney had only once before addressed Skinner by his Christian name, '… you have to be with her, and completely focused on her personal and emotional needs, rather than tear-arseing around America on an inter jurisdictional investigation which, professionally at least, is none of your business.
'I'm sorry to be so blunt,' he concluded, suddenly awkward, 'and if 102 that didn't need saying I apologise. But, well… What the hell, I thought it did.'
Silence hung there for a couple of seconds. 'Aye,' said Skinner finally.
'And you were right. Thanks, pal, I appreciate it. The only thing is, I think that one of my big problems may be in keeping Sarah from getting herself involved in the bloody investigation!' He paused again.
'I do want to see her, though. I'd rather be with her than here, make no mistake about that, but that's how she wanted it. I'm sorry to leave you guys in the lurch too, in these times of change. Most of al I'm sorry to miss young ACC Martin's farewel party. Where's he having it? There was nothing arranged when I left.'
'We're going for a meal in La Rusticana in Cockbum Street, then we're off to listen to jazz in the Cellar Bar in Chambers Street. Kicks off at half eight; ambulances at one a.m.'
'What about Jimmy's senior officers' dinner tonight?'
'Postponed,' said Mcl henney. 'The Chief's going to wait until you're back.'
'Good for him. I feel better about that.'
"That leads me to something I have to ask you. What about my move to SB? It's supposed to happen on Monday, when Mario heads off to the Borders Division. Do you want to put a hold on everything, save Clan Pringle's move, and leave the deputy in charge in the Borders, pro tern?'
'No,' Skinner replied, firmly. 'I've thought about that. My private office is secondary in my absence; you go ahead with your move. Keep an eye on my stuff long distance, you and Ruthie can manage that between you. Take anything with a health warning on it straight to Willie Haggerty.
'But what I do want you to do,' he went on, 'is to appoint your own successor.'
'Eh? You serious?'
'Sure I am. You know better than anyone, bar Andy, how I think and how I work. Look at the available talent, either a detective sergeant or a recently promoted DI, and make a choice.'
'I'd pick Jack McGurk, right now,' said Mcl henney, 'but Mr Pringle plans on bringing him in as his own exec.'
Skinner thought for a moment or two. 'Listen, if you think big Jack's the man for the job, pul rank. Tell Dan I want him and that's that. He'l huff for a bit, but he owes me one, and he bloody knows it. Go on; do it.
I'll hose down the new head of CID if necessary.'
'Okay, if you say so. Christ,' the Inspector laughed, 'you can cause bloody chaos from three thousand miles away.'
26
'Wel my God; it's our Mario! It's not like you to frequent the family business. What brings you here?' Paula Viareggio grinned at her cousin across the counter, her dark eyes carrying a mix of mockery and challenge, as they had done since they were children.
'A packet ofporcini mushrooms and some Seranno ham, actual y,' he said.
As he looked at Paula, across the counter, he was struck by the contrast she presented to the girl he had just left. Ivy Brennan was locked in a sort of extended childhood, her life shaped by her diminutive size and her elfin features. Paula, on the other hand, was ageless, her silver hair, high cheekbones and velvet skin giving her the appeal of a work of art, of an old master oil painting.
For a time in his late teens and early twenties, Mario McGuire had lusted after his Uncle Beppe's older daughter… something which Paula had understood from an early stage. The chal enge had been in her eyes from that time on, but he had been sensible enough to know that if he rose to it, he would be setting off down a dangerous path from which there would be no turning. There had been a couple of close cal s though; one at a party at Beppe's, and another after he had left home, when Paula had turned up at his flat late at night with a couple of drinks under her belt and mischief on her mind. And in truth, there had been another night, another party at which everyone had been very drunk, after which he had never been entirely certain what had happened. He had never asked, and Paula had never mentioned it.
'Mushrooms and ham indeed,' she laughed, scornful y.
'Why not? We're having friends for dinner and Maggie's got this new recipe.'
'So she sends you here to shop for her?'
He glanced around the big, double-fronted shop. 'This is still a deli, isn't it?'
'For the moment, yes. Come on, cuz, this is Paula; you're not kidding me. Your office is just along the road, but in al the time you've been 104 working out of it, you've never set foot in here. Now, the day after Aunt Christina drops her bombshell, here you are. This is an inspection visit by the new trustee, isn't it?'
He smiled at her; the full high-octane Mario smile, the killer leg opener from his single days which he had always been careful, until then, never to flash in her direction, for fear of what it might unleash.