‘Poor little guy. The last half-hour of his life doesn't bear imagining. Tied up and systematically tortured, then finally dispatched like an animal in a badly-run slaughterhouse.'
Sarah turned to the ambulance crew. 'Okay. If the photographers and technicians are finished, you can take him away now.' At a nod from Skinner, they set to work, noisily ripping off the tape which bound Cocozza's body to the chair.
He put an arm around Sarah's shoulders and, led her from the flat, away from the scene and from its smell, which had grown overpowering. 'Thanks, love, for coming down. Let's get back.' As soon as he had digested Martin's call, he had rushed to Dean Village, calling at home to pick up Sarah and to drop off his beaming secretary as a very willing baby-sitter for Jazz.
They climbed back into Skinner's car. As he drove up the steep incline of Bell's Brae, out of the Village, he glanced towards her. 'Any idea from that back there as to whether our man was waiting for Cocozza inside the flat, or whether the wee chap answered the door?'
`It is essential that you know?'
`No. It's just a small detail but, if I can, I like to know all the answers.'
Sarah was silent for a few seconds. 'Well, don't stand me up in court and ask me to say this, but there was a single bruise behind the right ear that didn't look like all the rest. It was a different shape. I'd say that whoever it was had been waiting inside the flat already. When Cocozza came in, he stepped up behind him, slugged him, stuffed the towel in his mouth, ripped off his clothing and trussed him up. Then he picked up the hammer, and began to give him tender loving care. So do you think it was your runaway Frenchman taking revenge for his brother?'
As the BMW crossed the high Dean Bridge, Skinner gestured with his left hand. 'The picture fits the frame. Norrie Monklands said Lucan blamed the Scottish end for their being nicked. If Vaudan told him all the detail, who was who, and so on, he'd know who to look for, and probably where to go.'
Sarah looked across at him doubtfully. 'Even down to the address?'
He smiled. 'Research document number one: the telephone directory. There aren't too many Cocozzas in the phone-book. Once he got to Edinburgh, he'd have had no problem pinning down the address.
She leaned back in her seat. Her smile was teasing. 'So why don't you believe it was him?'
He grinned back. 'Who says I don't? All the evidence points to Lucan, and I have to go on evidence, not hunches, don't I?' He gripped the steering wheel. 'Tell you one thing. I'm going to find Mr Ainscow, come hell or high tide, and, when I do, he'll sing his heart out just to stay alive. Otherwise I might just let him go — to take his chances with Cocozza's unexpected caller.'