Skinner's Ghosts (34 page)

'In a converted steading across the field. There are four houses there. The uniform team has orders to empty them.'

'Very good, Neil,' said Skinner. 'Everything sounds fine. I'm glad the situation's in such good hands. Best of luck.'

'Thanks boss,' said Mcl henney, sounding a touch bewildered.

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'Fancy seeing you here,' Mcl henney grinned, as he stepped out of the passenger seat of Martin's car, opposite what had once been the Howgate Inn, a popular Midlothian watering place. 'Just for a minute there, I. ..'

'I thought I'd go for a drive,' replied Skinner, casual y forestal ing him. 'Something going on here?'

An attractive blonde woman, in her mid-forties, stood beside him.

Three other people, two more women and an elderly man, residents of the steading, the Sergeant guessed, were gathered a few yards away, with a uniformed constable. 'This is Mrs Christopher,' said the DCC

as Martin approached, followed by Pam and Sammy Pye, from a second car. 'Your witness.'

'That's good,' nodded the Chief Superintendent. 'There are a few other questions I wanted to ask.'7

Skinner smiled. 'Mrs Christy The grey van's been around h Here for a couple of days, th it last on Friday night, sho

'"ye had a chat already. '1 or three weeks. hack. She saw e?'

Andy Martin frowned

'Mrs Christopher's Thursday morning to

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'somplice?' the solicitor suggested. ,is1iead, firmly, pursing his lips. 'The only three She pointed to Skinner. 'This gentleman's already asked me that.

The answer's stil no, though. I haven't.'

'Thanks anyway,' said the Head ofCID. 'Would you join the others now, please.'

As Mrs Christopher retreated he turned back to Skinner. 'How d'you think we should play this, sir?'

'It's your show, Andy,' the DCC replied.

'Not so as I'd noticed.'

Skinner grinned. 'Well. I did have a quick scout around.' He pointed along the twisting road which led out of the vil age. 'The track to the cottage is over there, but you're out of its sight until you're almost at the front door. The van's tucked away beyond it, but it's angled so that you can't make out its number, dammit.

'Behind the house there's a wee patch of woodland. The place backs right on to it, with hardly any garden. Some of the armed support is in there already. The rest are in the steading.'

He looked quizzical y at Martin. 'Why don't Neil and I make our way through the woods, and you and Sammy go straight up the track?'

'Why don't we cal in the SAS?' asked Pye.

'Because there is at least one kid in there that we know of, Sam,'

Skinner replied. 'The SAS go in bloody. I don't want any child deafened by a stun grenade or shot by this man in a panic.'

'That's right,' said the Chief Superintendent. 'Let's be gentle about it. I'l just walk up and knock the front door, with you two out the back, and al that firepower in the woods and across the field.'

Skinner nodded. 'You'd better advise the armed support commander.

If he comes out shooting, or even showing a gun, he goes down.' He grimaced. 'I wish we knew just a wee bit more about the situation, but with what we've got, the balance of the risk says we do it now.'

They split into the agreed pairs. Skinner led Mcl henney into the wood, finding a rough path through the trees, trodden down by the armed support officers. A hundred yards or so into the plantation they came upon the four-strong unit, well hidden in the gloom from anyone looking from the bright afternoon outside.

'Seen any movement inside the house?' the DCC asked a uniformed sergeant. The man looked at him, clearly surprised by his presence.

'Only once, sir. A man came into the kitchen, then went out again carrying a can of Pepsi. He was a dead ringer for the photofit.'

The radio which Mcllhenney was carrying crackled into life.

'We're in position.' Martin's voice sounded whispered. Skinner and his sergeant stepped across the low wire fence into the cottage's small garden. 'Ready,' said Mcllhenney.

A few seconds later, they heard a loud knock. A few seconds after 228

that, the back door swung open, fast, and a man rushed out: a tall, slim fair-haired man.

His mouth opened in surprise as he caught sight of the two detectives, then panic showed in his eyes at the sight of the pistol in Mcl henney's hand. He started to run for the corner of the house, towards the grey van, the bonnet of which was just visible. He had taken two steps when Skinner hit him, slamming into him with a rugby tackle and bearing him to the ground. Roughly, the DCC rol ed the man on to his face and drove a knee into the smal of his back, as he reached for his wrists, to secure them.

The girl's voice took him by surprise. 'What are you doing to my Daddy?' she cried.

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'What have you done with him?' asked Alex.

'He's on his way back to England right now. Pamela and Sammy Pye are driving him and wee Sal y down to York. They'l be met at the police headquarters there by two officers from the Suffolk force.

They'l hand him over, stay overnight in York, and come back tomorrow morning.'

'Has he done this before, this Mr George?'

Martin shrugged. 'Once is too often for the court's liking. The custody arrangement in his divorce only al ows him one weekend a month, and he doesn't like it. He wanted to take his daughter on holiday for a week, but his ex-wife refused. So he turned up at her house yesterday evening, and grabbed the child.

'The mother went to court this morning, and the judge ordered his arrest for contempt. I feel a bit sorry for the guy real y. He's just a decent honest soul, a self-employed electrician who works on big projects. That's why his van was away for a few days at a time. The ex-wife's a lawyer, though, and she's got him tied up every way.'

Alex reached across the dining table and punched him lightly on the chin. 'Just you bear that in mind, then,' she laughed.

'Did Pops hurt him much, this poor chap?'

'Not really. He just knocked the wind out of him. He scared the wee girl though; he was a bit upset about that. It would have scared her more if big Neil had shot the bloke, though.'

'Why did he run?' she asked.

'He said that he was going round the side of the house to see who was at the door. When he saw Bob and Mcllhenney, pistol drawn, he panicked and tried to leg it.'

'And was it his cottage?'

'His dad's. His wife didn't know about it, apparently.'

Alex frowned. 'Poor sod. It's awful when couples get to that stage.

What'll happen to him, d'you think?'

'Ach, the Judge'11 probably keep him in custody for a week or two, then give him a bol ocking and let him go. Hopeful y, he'l review the custody deal while he's at it. I think the guy's got a grievance.'

He glanced at her, across the pizzas. 'Your dad's on his side too, 230

of course. I only hope it doesn't come to that with him and Sarah.'

'It won't.'

'How can you be so sure?'

'I know my dad, that's how. And my step-mum too.'

'Mmm,' Andy mused. 'I miss Sarah, you know. Wonder how she's doing?'

'Or who. His name's Terry, I believe.'

'Eh?'

'So Pops told me.'

'Sarah wouldn't.'

She grinned at him again, even more widely than before. 'Maybe she wouldn't. Bloody sure I would though, in her shoes. You can store that away for future reference too.'

'Hey,' he asked her, 'are you trying to talk me out of this engagement?'

'Far from it,' she replied. 'I want to get married.'

His eyes widened with his smile. 'You do? When?'

'As soon as I've got my dad sorted out. Are you game?'

'Need you ask?' He rose drawing her to her feet also and pul ed her to him, kissing her, running his broad fingers through her abundant wavy hair.

She reached down for his belt buckle. 'Pizzas'11 get cold,' he murmured.

'Sod the pizzas.'

From time to time, Andy Martin could convince himself that al telephones show malice towards humans, especially in certain circumstances.

'Sod that!' he growled as it rang. Still, he picked it up.

As Alex watched him, his face grew grim. 'You sure?' he said. 'I see. No, it doesn't. Yes, I'l tell her. She'll have him there.'

He hung up, and turned to her. 'That wasAl Cheshire, keeping his word to me. He's fixed a meeting with the Lord Advocate, for ten o'clock tomorrow, and he wants Bob there. They've found something else, and he thinks that LordArchibald will be forced to place formal charges.'

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'There's no doubt about this, is there? No chance that your expert could be wrong?'

Deputy Chief Constable Cheshire looked at the Lord Advocate solemnly. 'Sir, we've consulted the manufacturer of the machine. The company's chief design engineer himself will testify that the note which accompanied the deposit in the Guernsey bank was typed on an electric machine purchased five years ago by John Jackson Charles Automobiles Limited, a typewriter seized subsequently by the police during a raid on premises owned by Mr and Mrs Charles.

'Since the day when it was impounded, by Mr Skinner and Sergeant Neil Mcllhenney, it has been under lock and key in the production store at Fettes Avenue. Mr Skinner may argue in his defence that someone found their way into his office to hide the Guernsey receipt in his desk. But to argue that the same person broke into the production store, found that machine among thousands of items, plugged it in and typed the note . . . I'm sorry, My Lord, but that is surely stretching credulity.'

Lord Archibald gazed at Skinner across his desk. The detective stared back, impassively.

'I'm sorry, Bob,' he said. 'And I have to say that I'm hugely disappointed. Are you stil maintaining your innocence?'

Skinner gave no answer, nor made any movement.

'Mmm,' said Archibald. 'You'd better say nothing anyway. Look, David Pettigrew, the Fiscal is in the next room. He will caution and charge you, formal y. There will be no announcement from this office, but you wil appear in the Sheriff Court tomorrow to be formal y remanded.

'There'l be no plea taken and of course you'l be released on a simple ordination to appear at a later hearing, but at the pleading diet, it'll be for the Sheriff to decide whether bail should be allowed.

I think it's inevitable that the case will be sent to the High Court for disposal.'

He turned back to Cheshire and Ericson. 'You two. Get up to Perth right away and see the man Charles again. I'd like to proceed against him, but I don't have a prospect of success. So, tell him what we've got and see if he'll agree to be a Crown witness, with immunity.'

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Mitchell Laidlaw stirred in his seat chair. 'Archie, may I.. .'

The Lord Advocate anticipated the rest of the question. 'Yes,' he said. 'You may interview Charles also, separately. But I mean you, and you alone. Not Bob, under any circumstances, and not Alex either.'

He rose, ending the meeting. 'Now, let's get Pettigrew in here and start putting this most unfortunate business to rest.'

-ys

.iISS!'

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'That tears it, Bob,' said Laidlaw.

'Charles has given Cheshire and Ericson a statement saying that he paid you the hundred thousand as a bribe, to secure reduced charges. He says that you gave him a sealed envelope with the destination bank inside, and that he passed it unopened to his associate, Douglas Terry.

'Further, he goes on to say that it was Terry - who is of course conveniently dead - who hired the courier and arranged the gathering in of the money. The Crown wil probably argue that Terry may have raised the cash in England, knocking the banknote defence on the head.'

'Does Charles admit to typing the note?' asked Skinner.

Laidlaw nodded. 'Yes, he does.' The lawyer sighed. 'Bob, would Charles have spent a hundred thousand just to frame you?'

The big policeman smiled grimly. 'It sure looks like that, doesn't it?'

The two men, with Andy Martin, were in the living room at Fairyhouse Avenue. 'So where do you think the typewriter thing puts us, Mitch, in terms of our defence?' Skinner asked.

'I've spoken to Miss Dawson about that, by telephone,' the solicitor replied. 'Her view is that it's very serious indeed. It almost completes the chain of evidence. However, she still feels that as long as the Crown can't produce the note which Charles al eges you gave him, she has a slim chance of steering the jury towards a Not Proven verdict, providing she can also convince them that your signature could have been obtained by trickery.'

Skinner turned towards his solicitor. 'The bal 's in your court. You go back to see Christabel. Start work on a defence. As for me, I'm going looking for Mr Noel Salmon. I'm going to do something I should have done long ago. I'm going to scare the shit out of that little man, and with it, hopeful y, a name.'

He smiled, wickedly. 'You see, the one thing that Jackie Charles would find it difficult to do from his hotel suite in Perth Jail is to make a private, unrecorded cal to Salmon, to tip him off about the bank account.

'Jackie's cute. He's turned Cheshire and Ericson back on 234

themselves and got them to buy a statement that could be complete supposition on his part. He's built his story on things that they've told him. The idea that he agreed to pay me off, then turned the mechanics over to Dougie Terry, that's brilliant for two reasons: one, because that's exactly how he used to work, and two, because Terry isn't around any more to contradict him.

'Not that he would have. Dougie the Comedian would have died for Charles. Come to think of it, he did.'

Skinner smiled again, in recol ection this time. 'Jackie to Terry, Terry to someone else, and that someone else did whatever needed doing. One to one al the time, so there was never any corroboration.