Jazz’s windy howl came to an abrupt halt the moment that Bob appeared in the nursery doorway.
He gave one loud burp and forgot his discomfort as recognition showed in his tiny eyes. Sarah stood up from her chair and held the baby out to his father.
Bob took him, arms outstretched, and raised him high above his head. 'Hello there, wee man. If you've missed me one-tenth as much as I've missed you these last couple of days, then you've still missed me a lot.' Jazz smiled down at him, a dribble starting at the corner of his mouth. Bob cradled him to his shoulder, leaned over and kissed Sarah.
`Hello, love. The same goes for you, too.
She squeezed his arm. `Hmm. I'm just glad you're back so soon. How were Hamburg and Amsterdam?'
`Interesting and very useful. We're hot on Ainscow now. He's tied right into Vaudan through that money.'
`Where does that put Gloria? Does it help you prove that Santi's death wasn't suicide?'
Not yet. Paco Garcia's statement still gives us a big problem there. If it were discounted, Gloria would probably have enough doubt on her side now to challenge the insurance company in the civil courts. But with that on the record, she's stuffed.'
`But couldn't Garcia be lying?'
Skinner shook his head. 'No chance, love. Garcia would have given me the PIN number to his granny's cash card if I'd asked him. He was telling the truth, no doubt about it. It looks as if I was wrong about Santi. That dog theory was just the great detective's imagination running away with him. The guy must have had a brainstorm. Suicide while the balance of his mind was disturbed; that's how it goes. The fact that Vaudan was going to kill him won't soften the insurers' hearts.'
Dammit!' said Sarah. 'I feel so sorry for that woman.'
`Yeah, so do I, but we've done all we can. Anyway, enough of that. Brian's downstairs. He's stopping for supper. . if that's okay. Has Fettes dropped off a paper for me?'
Sarah gave him a longish look. 'Of course it's all right for Brian to stay. I was half expecting him anyway. As for the fax, couldn't it wait until tomorrow morning?'
`Maybe not. Things are moving fast on this one.'
They walked downstairs — Jazz still nestled happily on Bob's shoulder, drooling quietly on to his shirt — and joined Brian Mackie in the living room. 'Your envelope's on the coffee table,' said Sarah. 'I'll get supper under way while you two see what's in it.'
Skinner nodded toward the brown manila envelope. 'Open that, Brian, will you.'
The Chief Inspector picked it up and tore it open with his index finger. He took out a sheet of paper, scanned it and passed it to Skinner, who took it from him, left-handed.
The report was a day in the life of Nicolas Vaudan, compiled in secret by his watchers. It listed everyone with whom he had been in contact while Skinner and Mackie had been in Hamburg and Amsterdam: some by name, others unidentified and simply by description. One section was underlined.
Skinner read aloud. "'Caller arrived at Vaudan's waterfront office just before midday. White male, aged around fifty, stocky, of medium height wearing denims. Heavy moustache, black-framed spectacles. Drove a Ford Transit van, UK registration L 254 DQT, with trailer attached. Spent twenty minutes in Vaudan's office before Vaudan himself showed him to the door. Left his vehicle parked in Vaudan's yard and left in a taxi."'
He looked across at Mackie. 'Has anyone. .' The question was answered with a nod before it was complete.
`Yes, sir. This was in the envelope too.'
He handed across a second sheet of A4 paper. Skinner read once more. "'Caller subsequently identified provisionally from van registration as Norman Melville Monklands, age forty-nine, of 7 Dalziel Terrace, Whitburn, West Lothian. Monklands has no record of convictions or arrests. He is DSS registered as a self-employed delivery driver, specialising in the transportation of light motorboats between Spain, Portugal, France, Italy and the UK. He maintains a small office at Inverkip Marina, near Gourock, and employs two other drivers on a casual basis. Monklands is known, on a social and business basis, to the police in Whitburn, where he and his wife also operate a small fleet of vehicles as licensed taxis. Whitburn officers provided the information that his main social interest is golf, and that he is a member of Dalmahoy Golf Club."'
The note was signed by Maggie Rose.
`Interesting,' said Skinner. 'Maybe this guy is a complete innocent. Maybe he's in Monaco to pick up a boat.' He paused to shift position in his chair as Jazz, falling asleep, slumped against his neck. in a deal like this one — if we are on the right trail — there has to be a courier. And if you didn't have someone like Mr Norman Melville Monklands, you'd have to invent him. Tomorrow, Brian, while I'm arranging to have a look in that Monaco bank account without anyone knowing about it, you do some more checking. Find out everything there is to know about this guy. What kind of perfume his mistress likes, the whole damn lot. But that is for tomorrow. For now, I am going to put my son to bed. Then you, his mother and I are going to eat. So far today, I've had a Spanish breakfast, a German lunch, and a Dutch tea. It'll be nice to end it with a plain Scottish supper!'