‘It’ll be the standard routine, sheer back-breaking drudgery, this investigation, but it's the only way.'
Two men and a woman faced Skinner across his rosewood desk in the big office located in the command suite of the ugly, hybrid building in Fettes Avenue which was Edinburgh's police headquarters. Detective Inspector Maggie Rose, the ACC's recently promoted personal assistant, sat to his left, a notebook on her lap, ready to record decisions taken and orders issued. Ranged beside her were Detective Chief Superintendent Roy Old who was Skinner's immediate deputy, Andy Martin, and Detective Superintendent Alison Higgins who had day-to-day responsibility for criminal investigation in Edinburgh's Eastern Division.
`Neither our own criminal intelligence sources nor the PNC has thrown up any hint that Manson had been a target, or has given us any warning that a rival outfit might have fancied his territory. Yet all the evidence points to this having been a premeditated murder. The attending officers went over the place twice yesterday, the first time with the cleaning woman, and the second time with Manson's lawyer. They both said that everything looked normal and that no valuables seemed to be missing.'
He glanced around at them, then continued. 'That means we have to look into every area of Manson's life, both the legitimate side and the things we've never been able to nail down before. I want every one of his managers brought in for interview. Put them under a bit of pressure, especially those we've got under the closest observation already. We know that Tony was too cute to push stuff through all his places at once. He only ever ran his candy stall in one place at any given time, always moving it around to cut down our chances of nailing the operation.'
`How did the buyers know where to go then, sir?' asked Superintendent Higgins.
Skinner raised an eyebrow in surprise at the question. `Come on, Alison, these are addicts we're talking about. They've got a bush telegraph that's like no other. Word gets round like lightning. But it's a very tight-knit club, and difficult for us to penetrate. We had an informant for a while, who gave us three or four tips that led to dealer arrests, but she died of an overdose. We suspected at the time — in fact I'm still bloody certain — that her death wasn't an accident. Since then, all we've been able to do is try to read Tony's mind, and keep an eye on some of the places that haven't been used in a while, hoping to catch one of them dirty. That's worked precisely once over the years. My darkest suspicion is that Manson had one of our own people on his payroll. Maybe now he's dead, we'll have a chance of finding out whether I'm right — or, I pray, proving that I'm wrong.'
He paused, to look out of the picture window, contem shy;platively, for a second or two.
`That's another thing I want done. Interview Manson's lawyer, accountant, bank manager, everyone who was ever involved with him in business. See if any of them know of any
argument he had in the pubs, the laundrettes, the curling club, anywhere. Interview every bugger you can find who ever knew Manson. His hairdresser, the taxi driver who brought him home, the cellar men in his pubs, the whores in his saunas, everyone. Andy, you and your Vice people interview the women. They'll be on first-name terms with most of them. Divisional CID does the rest. Roy, if you need an overtime tab for all this, just let me know what it's likely to run to, and I'll ask the Management Services Director to adjust the budget. It's boring old stuff, as I say, but it's all we have.'
He turned to DS Higgins. 'Alison, you scrutinise all the interview transcripts, and report to Roy daily, in summary. You, Roy, keep me in touch. Anything that you think I should see, get it to me right away. I'll be around until Wednesday, then I'm taking a few days off. I'll still be close by, though.'
He sat forward in his chair and put his hands palm-down on the desk. 'Right, that's almost everything. Maggie, Andy, could you leave us now. Mags, check if the PM report is in yet. If it is, make me an extra copy and get me a full set of photos, scene-of-crime and postmortem.'
Maggie Rose nodded and left the room with Martin. As the door closed behind them, Skinner turned back to Old and Higgins. He looked the woman straight in the eye, suddenly serious. 'I've got a bone to pick with you, Alison. I don't think it's too clever to leave a detective sergeant as acting divisional head of CID. Presumably you knew that Donaldson was on leave, and that Roy was away with a Royal.'
The detective superintendent, reddening, nodded her close-cropped blonde head.
`In that case, you should have known better than to put yourself out of reach at the same time. It's as well that big McGuire is a good operator, and that Andy Martin was available, otherwise you'd have been in the shit. Look, you know me. I try to be even-handed. That means, whether you're a detective constable or detective superintendent, if you screw up, I'll tell you. Now, you're fairly new in rank and in post, and I've got faith in you. I won't chop you for one error of judgement. But for two of the same kind, I will. Make sure that this is part of the learning experience. Okay?'
`Yes, sir.'
Skinner looked across at Old. 'You can consider your arse kicked, too, Roy. As Alison's line commander, when she drops one, it's down to you as well. Make sure that none of your divisional supers make the same mistake.'
He paused, easing the atmosphere with a smile. 'And don't go taking it out on Alison.'
Old, looking relieved, smiled in his turn, and shook his head vigorously.
Skinner stood up, and his two colleagues followed. He led them out into the corridor of the command suite. 'Okay, into battle. Remember, every detail might fit together with another detail, and amount to something. So note every tiny piece of information. Good luck.'
As Old and Higgins disappeared through the swing doors at the end of the corridor, Skinner turned to look for Maggie Rose — to find her standing behind him, comb-bound reports and photographs held in both hands.
`That's Banks's report, is it?'
The red-haired Inspector nodded.
`Did the big man tell you all about his moment of glory last night, then?'
`Oh yes, sir. Every detail, every fingerprint. I'm surprised he hasn't got himself into the photos.'
Skinner smiled. Maggie Rose and Mario McGuire's eighteen-month relationship had just been formalised by an engagement, and by their acquisition of a new flat in Liberton, in the south of the city.
`What he has got himself into is a stretch of overtime. He could be in for a few late nights.'
Maggie's smile brightened. 'Good, that'll take care of the curtains.'
As Skinner turned to go back into his office, she called after him. 'Oh, boss, Sir James's secretary called. He just got in. Can you look in on him.'