Head Shot

'No fooling you, eh. Okay I admit it; I thought I'd drop in for a chat.'

'I'll chat to you any time, Big Irish, but why here? You can come round to my place any time you like.'

'I don't like to drop in there unannounced; you might have company.'

'Not right now, I don't; the lady is on her own. Anyhow, I never used to bother about paying you a surprise visit.'

'I remember.'

'Much good it used to do me, too. So what do you want to chat about?'

It was his turn to throw her a chal enging look. 'Now who's being coy? You know bloody well; I want to talk about you, our Paula, and your place in the family business. By the way, how's Uncle Beppe taking it?

I thought he was uncharacteristical y quiet after Mum made her announcement.'

'Dad's very sad that she's going. He's relied on her advice whenever a major decision has had to be made in the past, and he'll miss her greatly.'

Mario laughed out loud. 'Hah! That's a belter, that one. Whatever Mum said he did the opposite. Remember after Papa died, he left a plan to launch Viareggio fish and chip shops as a franchise? My mother was all for going ahead with that; she pleaded, almost, with Uncle Beppe to agree to it. But did he? Not on your life. I was only sixteen then, and more interested in birds than business, but I remember Mum coming home from that last meeting with him. I've never seen her so angry; before or since. At the end he'd laughed at her. "Franchised fish and chip shops," he'd said. "Never heard anything so fucking stupid in my life."

'He's a real business tycoon, is your dad,' he chuckled, sarcastically.

'If he'd relied on my mother's advice, he'd be the chairman of a pie right now. D'you know there's a Harry bloody Ramsden in Singapore? If Papa Viareggio hadn't dropped down dead twenty years ago, it would have been his name… and yours… over the door.'

Paula looked at him cool y. He had tried to rattle her, but he had failed. 'Do you think you're going to change things then, Mario? Because if you do, I have to remind you that my father stil has the casting vote in the event of a disagreement between the two trustees. You've got no more power than Aunt Christina had. You'l be a figurehead just like she was.

McGuire crumpled up his mask of false bonhomie, and threw it away.

He looked at her without a flicker of humour in his eyes. 'Don't you believe that, cousin, not for one moment. You see, I'm not blind to my mother's only fault; she had this classical y Italian thing against washing the family linen in public. That's why she let Uncle Beppe get away with it, that time and on every occasion since. But I'm not like that; if I believe as a trustee that the casting vote is being used in a way that's against the best interests of the beneficiaries, then I won't hesitate for one second to go to court to have it overturned. That's the truth, a our dad better believe it. You too, for that matter.'

A flame kindled in her dark eyes. 'Are you threatening me, Mario?'

He shook his head, firmly. 'No. I'm telling you, that's all. Paula, I've got my own life to lead and a career outside the family business, so I've got no wish to get involved in day-to-day management things. I have got one or two ideas that I'm going to air, but I don't think that Uncle Beppe wil have a problem with any of them. There's contracts of employment, for example. As I understand it, our managers have none at the moment; not formally, at least. That's dodgy legal y, and it's not right moral y, so I'm going to propose that they have.

'They don't need to be fancy; just the standard rights and obligations, and the customary loyalty clause.'

'What's that?' asked his cousin.

'You know, the one about no additional like employment without approval. It just means that if one of our managers, like you are, wanted to take on a second managerial appointment in her spare time. .. let's say she ran a few saunas for example… she couldn't without the approval of her principal employer, the trust.'

He watched as her face seemed to set into a hard shell. 'Now,' he said, his smile back in place, 'about those mushrooms and that ham.'

27

'Are you serious, Mcllhenney?' Dan Pringle growled.

'Oh yes, sir, I'm serious. My boss has asked me to put my successor in place by the time he gets back from the States, and Detective Sergeant McGurk is number one on the list… providing he accepts the job, of course.'

'So that's what it's going to be like at headquarters, is it? The DCC takes a fancy to my chosen exec and that's it. I don't know if I fancy this job after all. Aye, fuck it, I think I'll just stay on in the Borders Division.

Big McGuire can get back in the queue and you can stay in Skinner's office.'

Mcllhenney glanced over his shoulder to make sure that the door of the head of CID's private office was completely closed. 'Speaking privately, sir, you don't know how fucking near you were to staying on in the Borders. It was a toss-up between you and Greg Jay, in Leith, who got the head of CID job; you won partly because the Boss preferred not to have both Mario and Maggie based in the city.

'If you real y want to stay in the Borders, I reckon he'd agree to let you make that choice; but you'l have to decide it right now.'

The superintendent glared at him. 'You know, son,' he said,, 'you might look like a big amiable bastard, but you're real y good at putting the boot in. No wonder you and Bob Skinner get on.'

'I'll take that as a compliment, then,' Mcl henney murmured. 'But just so's you know, the Boss didn't take a fancy to McGurk. He asked me to find the best man for the job, and I said that he was. Would you argue with that?'

Pringle lowered his eyes and shook his head. 'No, I wouldn't, because you're right; big Jack's got command potential. Okay, okay, if the DCC wants him, or if you want him… What's the difference?… I won't stand in his way.'

'That's good, sir. Mr Skinner thought you would agree when you thought it through.'

'Good for me. It stil leaves me stuck for back-up, though.'

'Not necessarily. There's Ray Wilding, McGurk's old partner in Central; he's just been promoted to DS. You could have him.'

'Aye, but would I have to fight Maggie Rose for him?'

'No,' said the Inspector, quietly. 'He's yours if you want him. I'm off to tell McGurk he's got a new job.'

As he turned to leave, Pringle called after him. 'Was this personal wi' you, Mcllhenney?' he asked.

'No, sir. I don't let personal issues cloud my judgement.'

'But you don't like me.'

'I'm entirely ambivalent to you, Chief Superintendent.'

'Aye, that'll be right. Are you still carrying a grudge over that time I wanted to lift your wife's doctor?'

Mcllhenney looked him in the eye. 'How could I, sir? Stupidity's a condition, not a vice. We all have occasional lapses.'

He closed the door on the new head of CID, wondering how big an enemy he had made… but not caring too much… and walked the long corridor back to his old office in the command suite. He asked Ruth McConnel to find Jack McGurk for him, then cast an eye over the DCC's morning mail. Spotting nothing contentious, he took over the cal to McGurk and broke the good news.

'Is Mr Pringle okay about it?' asked the young sergeant.

'He's very happy for you. Talk to him yourself and he'll tell you that, I'm sure. Report here on Monday morning; I'l be a bit schizophrenic for a while, jumping between this office and my new one, but between us, Ruthie and I'l show you the ropes, and get you up to speed in time for the Big Man coming back.'

'When will that be?'

'Not next week, that's for sure. See you Monday, Jack.'

Having cleared his desk, he asked Ruth to re-direct his calls to the Special Branch suite and headed off to meet up as arranged with McGuire. He found him, shut away in his private office, seated, hunched, at his desk with the phone to his ear.