Thursday legends - Skinner 10 (34 page)

'No,
but we do have something that will identify him. Arthur's got a print from the
bar of soap
...
over one of the blood
streaks. Whoever left it did so washing off Mr Shearer's blood.'

'We
haven't matched it, though?' 'No, not yet.'

'Could
he tell anything from it?'

'It
came from quite a big hand; that's all he could say.'

'A
great help,' the DCC grumbled. 'What have you got to take this thing forward,
Dan? I'm just about to meet Edith Shearer at the airport and I would like to
tell her we're making progress without lying in my teeth.'

'McGurk's
been interviewing Mr Shearer's partners, sir. One of them seemed to know a bit
about his private life. He told Jack that he used this organiser thing - a
palm-top, he called it - and that it had a lot of Mr Shearer's personal
information on it. It wasn't here, so the man's taken McGurk into the office to
look for it.

'There's
the missing watch too; the Rolex. Ms Bryant, the secretary, said that it was
bought from Laing's a couple of years ago. We're going round all the known
receivers and the licensed pawn shops with a description. If anyone tries to
flog it, we'll get them.'

Skinner
looked at the Superintendent, scathingly. 'Do you really believe that, Dan?' he
asked. 'You don't batter somebody unrecognisable just to steal a few quid and a
watch that you'll probably get nicked trying to sell. That Rolex was only taken
to fool daft coppers like you and me.

'You
get those divers back out and have them look at the river out there. I would
not be astonished if they found it stuck in the mud. If we really get lucky
we'll find a palm-top as well. I remember that thing; the Diddler even brought
it to the football sometimes. He didn't leave it in the office; no bloody way.'

'Could
this have been business-related, sir. D'you think that could have anything to
do with it?'

'Now
you're on my wavelength, Dan. The Diddler was a fund manager, one of the very
best. His death will have an incredibly damaging effect on Daybelge, and a
whole flock of their business rivals could be in a position to benefit from it.

'I
think you should get involved yourself in the interviews with these partners;
but first, I would have a long talk with Janine Bryant. If anyone in the
financial community had a real down on the Diddler, she'd be the person most
likely to know.'

'Do
you want to sit in, sir? You know the woman.'

'Thank
you for that kind offer. I've just had a couple of days the like of which a man
would go to jail to avoid, I am about to collect off a plane the grieving widow
and daughter of a good friend of twenty years standing, to get them home before
Alan Royston tells the world that he was battered to death, and you ask me if
I'd like some more.

'I've
been accused, properly of being a dodgy delegator; but this time, Dan, I'm
going home to the arms of my wife and kids.'

51

She
couldn't wait any longer; she picked up the phone and dialled his number. It
rang, once, twice, three times
...
she hung up before the answer machine could pick up the call. She looked up his
cellphone number and called that, but a programmed voice told her simply that
it was not responding.

'No,
he isn't, is he, you smug bitch,' she snapped back.

She
switched on the television; anything to distract her. Athletes raced round a
tartan track somewhere. She had no idea where, or who they were, or whether they
were competing for gold medals or gold coin, but she watched anyway.

The
door buzzer sounded; not the entry phone call from the street, someone at the
door itself. That bloody girl from downstairs wanting to borrow her hair dryer
again. Once was enough, twice was too much, three times was going to get a
dusty answer. She stepped into the hall, and swung the door open, ready to do
some serious telling off.

He
lifted her up in his arms as he stepped inside and hugged her to him, so tight
that it hurt, but she didn't care. She stroked the back of his head as he
buried his face in her hair, kissing her neck.

'I
have been so
...
worried about you,'
she whispered. 'I have had the most terrible feeling since yesterday morning.
I've been imagining the most awful things.'

'Well,
you can stop that right now,' he said, quietly, grinning as they looked at each
other, as if for the first time, Karen
frowning
as she saw his swollen lip and the bruising on his face. 'I'm sorry, just
turning up out of the blue, especially after the other day, but I had to see
you; I needed very badly to see you.'

'Why?'
she asked him.

'So
that I could be absolutely certain, beyond the last shadow of a doubt, that I
am still alive. And so that I could tell you something
...
and ask you something.'

"There's
a coincidence,' she murmured.

'Pack
a bag,' he said.

'Where
are we going?'

'Somewhere
I should have taken you a while ago.' 'How much should I pack? How long are we
going away for?'

'That's
up to you. Pack as much as you like. But do it now; this can't wait any
longer.'

'All
right, I'll pack office clothes for Monday.'

He
followed her into her bedroom, watching as she made selections from her drawers
and wardrobe, fitting them into a big soft hold-all, and folding her work suit
carefully on top. He grinned as he saw her police uniform hanging on the rail,
and her cap on a shelf above. On impulse he reached for it and sent it spinning
into a corner of the room.

'Why
do we dress our women officers like waitresses in Miss Cranston's tea room?' he
chuckled.

'Careful,'
she protested, 'I might need that next week.'

'Why
should you?'

'Because
I'm not going to work for you any more.' 'How did you know I was going to fire
you?' She closed the zipper on her hold-all, dropped it on to the floor and reached
for him, taking hold of the top button of his
crisp
new white shirt. He caught her hand, gently. 'Not here. Let's go.'

She
locked up and he led her outside, carrying the bag and squeezing it into the tiny
boot of the MGF, which had already attracted the attention of a traffic warden.
He showed the man his warrant card and shooed him away.

'Where
are we going?' she asked him as he turned out into Nicolson Street. He gave her
no answer, only a smile but she knew anyway. He drove urgently, as fast as he
could through the Saturday afternoon traffic, cutting along Chambers Street,
along King George IV Bridge to the Mound, down the hill and across Princes
Street, along George Street and round Charlotte Square and finally down Belford
Road and into Dean Village.

His
garage door was open; he drove straight inside.

'I
am so sorry, Karen,' he said, as he took her bag from the boot, 'that I have
never brought you to this house before. It's typical of the blind, stupid and
thoughtless way I've treated you.'

She
shook her head. 'Not you alone. We've treated each other in exactly the same
way.'

He
took her hand and led her out of the garage, into the house and upstairs, to
the living room. To his paintings. She had never seen them before. She gazed
around his gallery. 'Andy,' she exclaimed, 'these are lovely.'

'This
is the second part of my life-support system.'

'How
long-have you had them?'

'I've
been collecting for years, on and off. It was only when I moved here that they
came together for me like this. They create something; I don't know what it is,
only that I feel more at home among them than anywhere I've ever been before.'

'Okay,'
she said, asking the begged question. 'What's the first part of your
life-support system?' 'You are.'

She
felt warmth that was almost orgasmic flood through her whole body and struggled
in vain to keep it from showing on her face.

'Oh
yes? And when did this come to you?'

'I
began to realise about three days ago, but it came to me as a great certainty
when I knew I was going to die. You guessed right, Karen; I've been in trouble.
Serious, life-threatening trouble of my own making. It was very bad, and then
it got worse, until there came a point when all common sense told me that there
was no way out. I felt Death descending upon me and, as it did, all that filled
my mind was you.

'I
saw your face, I felt you with me and I knew all at once that, whatever logic
told me about my situation, I could not die. So I declined Death's kind offer -
You know how Death is always depicted as a great robed skeleton with a scythe?
Actually he's a thin bloke with a gun - and eventually Bob Skinner turned up
and, as he does, made everything all right'

'What
happened to Death?' she whispered.

'He
went away; for good. All that he's left me is a compulsion to brush my teeth
every couple of hours. That'll pass, though.

'And
you know what? You're still there, filling my mind, with your strength, and
your warmth, and your goodness and your sheer bloody niceness. He tapped his
chest. 'You've been in here for a while now, but I was too stupid to figure it
out, hell-bent on making a virtue out of loneliness. It took Sarah
Skinner,
who is my best friend after you and Bob, to tell it to me straight.

'Now
it's just so bloody obvious.'

She
looked at him. That's what you had to tell me?'

'Not
all of it.'

'What
else, then?'

'I
had to tell you I love you, before I could die.'

'And
what do you want to ask me?'

'Forswearing
all others, I wanted, want, to ask you to marry me. You saved my life, now I'd
like you to live the rest of it with me. What d' you say?'

She
frowned at him and his heart sank. 'I have to choose my words carefully here,'
she began. 'I love you too. Yes.'

They
gave simultaneous gasps of exultation and relief. The space between them closed
in a second as they locked in an embrace.

'When?'
she murmured.

'Soon
as we can.'

'Can
I stay here from now on?'

'Too
right. We'll find a new place though; one that's ours together. This place has
picked up some bad memories already, just like the last one.'

'That's
all they are, though, memories. I've got my own, remember. We can live with
them, no problem.' She reached for the top button of his shirt once again; this
time he made no move to stop her.

'What
about the job?' she asked.
'...
Sir.'

'You're
not going back to my office, that's for sure. Do you want to chuck it?'

She
nodded. 'Yes. It might suit the McGuires - they're zealots - but one copper in
the house will be enough for us. I trained as a teacher before I joined up.
I'll do some supply work, maybe
...
until I get pregnant, that is.'

He
put his forehead against hers as she pulled his shirt free. 'Let's attend to
that right now, shall we?'

52

That
was a bombshell, was it not?' Bob Skinner gazed after the little red car as it
turned out of the driveway, half an hour after noon on Sunday. 'When he phoned
I thought he was just coming to return the clothes I lent him.'

Sarah
smiled. 'A bombshell maybe; but think of the man who left here yesterday, then
look at the Andy who's just left now. When did you last see him as happy as
that?'

'Maybe
never,' Bob conceded. 'Maybe not even when he was engaged to our Alex. But
still
...
don't you think that this
could all be a hysterical reaction to what happened to him on Friday?'

'He
didn't seem hysterical to me. Nor did she. No, I'm going to take it at face
value; I'm going to be pleased for them both. I don't know Karen very well, but
I've heard a few stories about her from you and others. Nobody has ever failed
to make the point that she is a thoroughly nice woman. She will add a stability
to his personal life that's never really been there before. You just watch him
go from now on.'