"Meaning him?"
"You guessed it. He also pointed out that he"s been twice as long in the Chief Officer rank as Mr Skinner has."
"He"s after Big Bob"s job?"
"Correct. But I think that ultimately, he"s after the Chief"s."
"The man"s mad, then. Mind you, who"s going to take any notice of
him?"
"The Joint Police Board might, for a start. The DCC has his enemies on that body; more than that, he thinks that Mr Chase has a direct route to them. He"s found out that he has a cousin back in c.u.mbria who"s a Labour MP at Westminster."
"What"s the Chief saying about it?"
Ruth pursed her lips and glanced at him. "Nothing," she said. "He"s playing it by the book; when Mr Chase wrote his paper, he sent it to him formally, with a covering memo asking him to put it to the Board. The Chief replied on paper, asking whether he was sure he wanted to do that. Mr Chase replied and said that he was.
"A couple of days later, the three of them ... the Chief, Mr Skinner and Mr Chase ... discussed it in private. Afterwards the Boss told me that the Chief thanked Chase and said that he would consider at some length whether it should go to the Board. It"s on the shelf for the moment, as far as I can gather."
"Has the Big Man said anything to you?"
"Only that if Chase thinks he"s taking orders from him he"s crazy." She grinned. "That wasn"t quite what he said; I"ve left out the adjectives."
Sammy whistled and restarted the car. "I see what you meant about stress levels in your corridor. ACC Chase is either very brave, or very stupid."
"Neither," Ruth replied at once. "He"s simply ambitious. Possibly the most ambitious man I"ve ever met; he wants to be a Chief in a major force and to collect the automatic knighthood that goes with it. It"s written all over him. As for his wife ..."QShe stopped in mid-sentence, slamming a metaphorical door on the subject. "Come on, let"s get under way again. I want to get to Uncle John"s before dark."
She smiled at him again, then reached out and ruffled his sandy hair.
This is moving our relationship forward, you know. Quite significantly at that. If I take someone to meet my favourite uncle it"s a sort of sign ... if only you could read it.""b.u.g.g.e.r!" Neil swore quietly as the telephone rang; Lauren, his daughter, looked at him severely.
"Dad!"
"Come on, kid," he appealed, "right in the middle of the football results."
"That"s no excuse," the eleven-year-old retorted. "Do you want Spence to use language like that? Or me, even?"
"What are you talking about? You do already." Still in his armchair, he leaned across and picked up the phone. "h.e.l.lo," he answered.
"DI Mcllhenney?" a c.o.c.kney voice enquired.
"That"s me."
"h.e.l.lo mate. This is DC Crowther, from the Met. West End Central Division, Savile Row. I was tryin" to phone your boss, but his mobile number"s unavailable. He left yours as backup."
"Is that right, Constable?" the Scots detective replied, his hackles risen instantly. "Then tell me something. If he"d answered his hand-phone, would you have called him "mate" as well?" He paused. "Not that I"m rank conscious, mind."
He heard a distinct gulp. "Sorry, Inspector; it"s just that I"m not used to dealing with Scotsmen."
"Don"t compound it, Constable. Now, what"s this about? I haven"t seen DCC Skinner since he left for London on Wednesday."
Mcllhenney thought he heard a faint chuckle at the other end of the line.
"Yeah, he"s been busy down "ere.
"Your guvnor called in a drive-by shooting last night from Oxford Circus; round about eleven. He said that a lone guy took a pop at him with a shotgun from a dark coloured Ford Mondeo. I"m just calling to tell him that we haven"t had a sniff of a result so far. Not a bleeding thing."
DC Crowther coughed. "The thing is, sir, copper to copper, my guvnor"s p.i.s.sed off at your guvnor. Soon as his call came in last night we put a right s.h.i.tload of effort into it; we alerted all our patrol cars. They pulled over
everything within a three mile radius that even looked like a Mondeo. While they were doing that we had an armed robbery in a burger place in Oxford Street, a rape behind a pub in Great t.i.tchfield Street, and a stabbing in Soho. As a result of your man"s call we were late responding to every one of "em, so we didn"t feel a single collar.
"Tough, you"ll say, but then we took a look at the scene of Mr Skinner"s so-called drive-by, and guess what? It was as clean as a whistle. Someone takes a shot at you with a twelve-bore, even if "e misses, you"d expect to find traces of it all around."
Crowther sighed. "Nothing. No damage to any shop windows, or to the news-stand your guvnor said he dived behind, and no lead shot lying around either, none at all. There were no witnesses either, not a bleedin" one."
The c.o.c.kney seemed to hesitate for a second. Tell me something, Inspector. I"ve heard about your man . . . who "asn"t? Is he the nervous type?"
"Not in the very slightest," Mcllhenney answered.
"Well, my divisional commander reckons that he is. He was in here this afternoon, effin" and blindin" about wasting police time. He reckons your man"s sh.e.l.l-shocked, or paranoid, or worse. He"s threatening to send a formal report to your chief and recommend that your man be made to have psych tests."
"Is that right?" the inspector barked. "Just you tell him, from me if you like, that he should wind his b.l.o.o.d.y neck in. If you don"t fancy pa.s.sing that on, have your DI do it, but get your guy calmed down somehow or ...
Commander or not... G.o.d help him. If Big Bob said there was a shot fired, then there was a shot fired, end of story. If he"d been carrying himself you"d have had f.u.c.king evidence all right, with a bullet in it!"
He waved an apology at Lauren, as she frowned at him.
"You get that report squashed, Constable. You do not know with whom you are dealing, and I mean that."
Til do my best, sir," said Crowther.
Mcllhenney was unconvinced. "Do that. By the way, what team do you support?"
"Eh? Spurs, as it "appens."
"That"s good . . . they got stuffed four-nil."10."How long has your uncle lived here?" Sammy asked, as he drew up alongside the neat bungalow, the last house in a leafy cul-de-sac.
"He and Aunt Cecily came to c.u.mbernauld from Glasgow when they started to build the new town in the late fifties. They lived in a flat in an area called Kildrum at first, then moved here, closer to the town centre. They bought it from the Development Corporation about fifteen years ago, just after it was refurbished. They got it for a song too, as sitting tenants."
"Your aunt"s no longer around, I take it?"
"No," said Ruth. "She died of a heart attack in 1986, a year after Uncle John retired. He"s been alone since then."
"He"ll be a fair age then?"
"He"s just turned eighty. But he"s very fit; he"s been a member of Dullatur Golf Club just about all his life. He plays just about every day, hail, rain or shine. It"s walking distance from the house."
"What did he do for a living?"
"Something on the railways: in the office at the top of Buchanan Street, in Glasgow. He retired on a good pension, so he"s quite well off, especially now that Auntie isn"t here to help him spend his money."
Sammy grinned. "Are you looking out for your inheritance, then?"
She bridled at his joke. "No, I am not! I may be the only blood relation he"s got left, but he could be leaving his money to the cat and dog home for all I know ... or care. We"re here today because I"m guilty, that"s all. I haven"t seen him since his last birthday, in June, and that"s not good enough.
He"s an old man, he hardly drives any more, and apart from his golfing pals he"s all alone."