Superintendent Mark Mitchison put his hand to his stomach. The pain was worse than ever today, a gnawing that began in his gut and travelled all the way upwards like broken glass. Stress, the doctor had said. He’d thought it was just acid reflux at first and had prescribed the usual pills but they hadn’t worked.
Another spasm made him groan and lean over, clutching his stomach, just as he heard a knock on the door.
‘Sir!’ WPC Irvine crossed the room in double quick time. ‘What’s the matter?’ she asked as Mitchison tried to straighten up.
The policewoman saw the handsome face change colour from white to grey and watched, mesmerised as the man stumbled then fell forward, one hand clutched tightly to his middle.
‘D’ye hear the latest? Mitchison’s been signed off on the sick,’ Martha McKinlay wagged her head at Sadie as the two women finished drying the formica tabletops in the staff canteen.
‘Aye, well, that’ll please some of them. He’s no’ that well liked, is he?’
‘Och, Sadie, that’s terrible. A’ him that ill.’
‘Why? Whit’s wrang wi’ him?’
‘Collapsed in his office. Someone said it might be a heart attack,’ Martha’s voice lowered in a conspiratorial whisper.
‘Hmph. Well, we’ll see. Who’ll be taking over from him? Someone from outside again?’
‘Well, rumour has it that Lorimer’s been asked to be acting Super.’
‘That’ll no please him. He’s up to his neck in this Concert Hall case. He’ll no’ want tae gie’ that up.’
‘There’s no question of you being taken off this case,’ the Assistant Chief Constable told Lorimer. ‘You’ll still be the investigating officer as far as we’re concerned. But your time will be split between the two jobs, of course. Superintendent Mitchison has a pretty full diary,’ she frowned.
Lorimer watched the woman on the opposite side of the desk. She was older than him by about ten years, her fair hair short and neat, her face made up discreetly. Yes, Joyce Rogers was still a feminine woman despite all her experience in the Force. Some of the women became hardened after a while, the dark underside of police work showing on their faces. Had she been instrumental in Mitchison’s appointment in the first place, he wondered? If so, then this was the woman who’d rejected Lorimer himself for the job. He’d never know, and that was just as well.
‘How long is the Superintendent expected to be off?’ he asked mildly.
Joyce Rogers smiled thinly. ‘How long’s a piece of string?’
She shook her head. ‘He’s suffering from stress and will be off until at least the end of the year. His doctor has told him to take a complete break and our own medical man has endorsed that.’
Lorimer nodded. That made sense. None of them would take time off willingly. So. The police doctor had had the last say. Mitchison must have gone off under protest, then. Lorimer wasn’t sorry. The man had been acting strangely for weeks now, behaviour that could be explained by his present illness.
‘He’s not the first senior officer to have succumbed to stress and he won’t be the last,’ Joyce Rogers looked Lorimer directly in the eye. ‘You’ve got your work cut out in the next few weeks, Chief Inspector, but that is no reason not to take the leave you’d planned.’ The Assistant Constable’s eyes twinkled. ‘We can’t have all our senior officers stretched to the limit. And I suppose Mrs Lorimer would be very put out if you didn’t arrive for Christmas?’
‘Indeed,’ Lorimer agreed, wondering just how much this lady knew about his domestic arrangements. Maggie would be more than disappointed. It would drive another huge wedge between them if he were to fail her this time. ‘Who’ll cover since Superintendent Mitchison won’t be back from sick leave before Christmas, ma’am?’
‘We’ve taken care of that, Lorimer.’ She grinned suddenly. ‘Just see if you can shed some of Superintendent Mitchison’s workload in the meantime, eh? Spare a few trees.’
Lorimer raised his eyebrows in surprise. Word about Mitchison’s paper trails had reached the highest levels, had it? ‘Certainly, ma’am. I’ll be glad to oblige.’
‘And one more thing, Chief Inspector. We would appreciate a result on the Concert Hall case. Not that I’m putting you under any pressure, you understand …’
‘Bill, that’s great!’ Maggie enthused. ‘But will you still be able to come out?’ Lorimer could hear the sudden quiver in her voice. The telephone had been serving him well these past weeks as a means of telling him just how Maggie was feeling. He was used to the nuances of the human voice. It was one of those skills that had grown with the job.
‘Of course we will,’ he assured her. ‘The Assistant Chief Constable herself assured me of that.’
‘Joyce Rogers?’
‘The same.’
‘Well, that’s all right, then. I like her. This can only do your career some good. After all, acting Super is just a step away from being appointed somewhere else, isn’t it?’
Lorimer shrugged. It wasn’t something he’d considered until now. Leaving the Division and all his team behind wasn’t a thought he particularly relished. And did he really want to be bothered with all these Superintendents’ meetings that seemed to be par for the course?
‘Maybe I’m happy just as I am,’ he told his wife at last. There was a silence that he took for her disapproval. ‘Catching criminals,’ he added at last. ‘Talking of which I must get some sleep. There are a hundred and one things I want to delete from Mitchison’s diary tomorrow. The Concert Hall case has gone quiet on me for now.’
‘Just as well.’
‘Hm,’ Lorimer sounded at odds with Maggie’s remark. He’d rather have a solution to these two murders any day than a promotion, no matter how temporary it was.