‘Sure, and part of me believes that, but the part that knows you best says you’re still bursting to be leading the hunt.’

  ‘Maybe,’ Bob admitted, ‘but it’s time for the young guys to make their names. I have a hunch that they will too, pretty quickly. There was something about Sammy Pye’s body language during that press conference; it told me he thought he was on to something.’

  ‘That quickly?’

  ‘Most homicides are cleared up in the first hour.’

  ‘That’s because most are domestic; in this case the husband is in another country.’

  ‘I’m not sure I agree with that assumption, but for sure, victim and killer usually know each other, so most investigations begin with a ready-made cast of suspects. Did they give you any hints when you were there?’

  ‘They weren’t pleased with the concierge,’ Sarah said, ‘that was for sure.’

  ‘I picked that much up from the press conference. Have they identified the substance they found in the bathroom?’

  ‘No, and to be honest, from where it was located it could very well turn out to be talcum powder. I’m still waiting for the analysis of Annette Bordeaux’s blood, but if it was a drug that they found, I wouldn’t have taken her for the user. She was a very fit woman; her last snack, eaten within an hour of her death, was a banana, and something that looked and smelled like an isotonic energy drink. You don’t consume that and follow it up by snorting coke.’

  ‘No,’ Bob agreed, ‘you don’t. But whoever it was she was entertaining needn’t have been such an aesthete.’

  ‘Why do you assume she was . . . entertaining?’

  ‘Was the door forced?’ he asked.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Were there any signs of a struggle?’

  ‘No, other than a blood smear that Dorward thinks came from her nose when she was hit.’

  ‘Then we’re back to what we agreed, more or less, before. She knew her killer.’

  Sarah’s eyes widened. ‘And she entertained whoever it was in her underwear. So the supermodel had a piece on the side.’

  ‘Were there any signs of sexual activity before she was killed?’

  ‘No,’ she admitted.

  ‘So her visitor . . . her killer . . . could have been a woman.’

  ‘Then she packs a hell of a punch. Annette’s nose was badly broken.’

  Bob shrugged. ‘That doesn’t rule it out. I know a couple of women who could do that . . . my elder daughter among them. I taught Alex to take care of herself from an early age.’

  ‘Maybe, but . . .’

  She was interrupted by Jimmy Buffett; Bob’s ringtone was ‘Margaritaville’. He picked up his phone from the table, and peered at the screen. ‘Speak of the very devil,’ he said, softly. Accepting the call, he put it on speaker and laid it back down.

  ‘Yes, my child?’ he said amiably.

  ‘Pops, have you been drinking?’

  The urgency in her tone brought him upright in his chair, sitting to attention. ‘No,’ he replied. ‘I’ve told you, Sarah doesn’t, given her condition, so neither do I: not much anyway. Why? Do you have a problem?’

  ‘I have a client, a brand-new client. He’s just been arrested and he’s being brought to Edinburgh. I’ve been instructed on his behalf, by his wife, and I’ve said I’ll be there when he arrives.’

  ‘What’s the charge?’

  ‘There isn’t one yet, but it’s likely to be murder.’

  ‘Who’s the arresting officer?’

  ‘Sauce Haddock.’

  ‘Sauce?’ Skinner exclaimed. ‘He works with Sammy Pye and Sammy’s . . .’ He whistled. ‘Jesus, this is the Annette Bordeaux investigation.’

  ‘Yes,’ she confirmed. ‘It’s massive already and it’s going to get bigger when the press find out who’s been detained. They’ve arrested Chaz Baker, the Merrytown team manager.’

  He looked across the table, eyes gleaming with something not far short of triumph. ‘What did I say?’ he murmured. ‘Known to the victim.’ He glanced downwards once more, as if he was on a video call. ‘So, Alex, why did you ask about my sobriety?’

  ‘Because I’d like you to meet me at Fettes,’ she said, bluntly. ‘They’re taking him there because it’s the least accessible police station in Edinburgh as far as the media are concerned.’

  ‘True enough but, kid, you don’t need me. You have to think of him as just another client.’

  ‘Once upon a time,’ she retorted, ‘somebody probably said much the same to Charlie Manson’s lawyer. Pops, I’m new at the criminal bar. I’m not saying I can’t handle the brief, but it’s a massive step for me.’

  ‘Then why did you accept it?’ he asked.

  ‘Good question,’ she sighed. ‘I’m a solicitor advocate and as such I have a professional obligation. I can’t cherry-pick my clients. On this one, I need support. I’d just like you to be there when I see Baker. After that, we’ll see how it plays out.’

  ‘One thing puzzles me,’ Skinner said. ‘Yes, you are new at the criminal bar, and you’re still building your reputation. This is going to be a very high-profile case, so why did Baker’s wife call you?’

  ‘She said I’d been recommended.’

  ‘By whom?’

  ‘I have no idea, and I didn’t think to ask her. Please, Pops.’

  ‘There might be a problem with me getting involved,’ he pointed out. ‘Sarah did the autopsy on the victim; she’ll be a prosecution witness.’

  ‘I don’t see that as a difficulty,’ Alex countered. ‘The Crown will have to disclose the post-mortem findings, so where’s the conflict of interest? Besides, she’s my stepmother . . . or she will be if you two ever decide to get married again. The court wouldn’t expect me to ostracise her for the duration.’

  ‘Sammy Pye might not see it that way. Maggie Steele might not see it that way. Either of them might ban me from the building, and I’d have no complaints if they did.’

  ‘That’s hardly likely, is it?’

  ‘If I was in their shoes, it would be highly likely. For sure there’s no way they’ll let me in the room with you during any formal interview. Baker’s entitled to legal representation while he’s being questioned, but I’m not a lawyer. Allowing me to sit beside you would be a precedent no responsible officer could set. Call the Lord Advocate if you like; he’ll tell you the same.’

  ‘Then don’t sit beside me,’ she said. ‘But be there, please.’

  Skinner looked at Sarah, one eyebrow raised in a questioning gesture. She nodded.

  ‘Okay,’ he sighed. ‘I’ll chauffeur you down there. Forty minutes, tops, I’ll pick you up. Be waiting for me outside your place.’

  Ten

  ‘That was a bolt from the blue, Cameron,’ Mia Watson McCullough murmured, coolly, across another dinner table.

  ‘You’re a mistress of the understatement, lass,’ he replied, sharply. There was something in his eyes that said far more. Windows to the soul , she thought, remembering two other people in her turbulent life who had offered her similar, equally disturbing, glimpses

  ‘Sorry,’ she exclaimed, quickly. ‘I wasn’t being flippant, honestly. That poor woman; it’s terrible. But Baker? Who’d have imagined it?’

  She had never seen him rattled before. Normally the universally nicknamed Grandpa McCullough was distinguished by his calmness. The legend that had been built around him in his home city of Dundee cast him as cold, ruthless and ferocious. She had heard of him before ever meeting him, and that was what she had expected when she did. Instead she had found quiet, thoughtful equanimity, and had experienced nothing but kindness and courtesy from him. That flash of something else: nothing scared her, she had seen too much, but for sure it had startled her.

  And yet, when the moment passed, he was contrite. ‘No, I’m sorry, love. Forgive me for being short with you. It just took me . . .’ He shook his head. ‘Poor woman indeed; and poor Paco. I was being selfish too, I admit, for I couldn’t help thinking, poor Merrytown, as well. What happened to Annette would have been a hell of a blow for the club on its own, but this . . . Jeez, I don’t know how it’ll play out.’

  He offered her a grim smile, then glanced around the busy dining room. ‘It could have been worse, though,’ he chuckled.

  ‘How?’

  ‘He might have been arrested here,’ MCullough said. ‘I offered him the freedom of Black Shield Lodge for the squad’s away weekend, but he wanted to take them to the seaside. He has a theory that running on beaches and in seawater strengthens the legs.’

  ‘He must have seen Chariots of Fire .’

  ‘Maybe. Whatever, having a guy lifted for murder from my hotel wouldn’t be the sort of publicity I appreciate.’

  ‘Do you think he did it?’ Mia asked.

  He frowned. ‘What do you think? They found the body around midday, and Chaz was lifted early evening. That suggests to me they’ve got something pretty conclusive on him.’

  ‘What exactly did his wife say? Have they charged him?’

  ‘No,’ he replied, ‘but they wouldn’t do that there and then. He’s been cautioned and detained in connection with Annette Bordeaux’s suspicious death. That was the wording they used, she told me.’

  ‘Where are they taking him?’

  ‘Edinburgh, Lita thinks. I suppose it would be. That’s where she was murdered.’

  ‘Chaz?’ she exclaimed. ‘What was he doing there? No, it must be a mistake.’

  ‘What do you think he was doing there?’ McCullough retorted, laughing lightly.

  ‘Surely not! She seemed like a very nice girl when we met her. She was ordinary; there was none of the celebrity about her. Her English was very good too.’

  ‘That’s not unusual in Eastbourne, or wherever she’s from.’

  ‘Are you saying she was English? I always thought she was French.’

  ‘You should read those magazines,’ he said, ‘rather than just looking at the pictures. Her real name was Annette Brody. That agent of hers, that Sirena woman, she Frenchified her at the start of her career.’

  ‘After she plucked her out of the chorus line in a Paris nightclub,’ Mia grinned. ‘You see, I do read, sometimes.’

  ‘Aye, the wrong papers. I’m sceptical about that Sirena. When we met her she struck me as a complete fucking fruit loop. Nothing’s real about her, not even her name; Sirena Burbujas, for fuck’s sake. It means Bubbles, in Spanish.’

  ‘I never took you for a linguist,’ she chuckled.

  He winked. ‘I’m not. I picked that up from a bottle of fizzy water in Madrid on our honeymoon.’

  She smiled, then glanced at her empty champagne flute. The tiny gesture was spotted by the wine waiter; instantly, he swooped on their table like a diving hawk and refilled it. He looked at McCullough, questioningly. ‘Monsieur?’

  ‘I’m fine, Jacques,’ he answered. ‘You can open the Sancerre though.’

  ‘Going back to Lita Baker,’ Mia said as he withdrew. ‘I thought Susannah Himes was your regular lawyer: that woman they call the Barracuda.’

  ‘She doesn’t have exclusivity. That Frances Birtles, she’s best when a case goes to trial, by a mile; it’s her strength. Himes is very good all round, but what she’s best at is cutting a deal. A few years back, when my stupid daughter Inez got my granddaughter involved in something that was reckless even by her standards, I called her in straightaway. Cameron walked away scot-free, without a stain on her character, and her career intact.’

  ‘You never told me that before.’

  ‘I try to forget it,’ he confessed.

  ‘What happened to Inez?’

  ‘She went to jail,’ he said.

  ‘I see. And you blame Himes?’

  ‘Hell no! I wasn’t bothered about that at all. She deserved every day she got. No, the thing about the Barracuda, she has a high profile, and that might not be what Chaz needs. Himes very rarely goes to trial, you know.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because most of her clients are fucking guilty,’ he laughed. ‘Lita might not want to give that impression in this case.’

  ‘I get it, but still . . . Alex?’

  ‘Why not? Look, Chaz was arrested by my granddaughter’s partner. Now he might be defended by your son’s half-sister. It’ll be Lita’s choice. All I’m doing is putting her name in the frame.’

  ‘Fine, but is she up to it?’

  ‘Time will tell,’ he said. ‘She’ll be well advised in approaching the brief, and that’s the most important thing.’

  ‘Advised? By whom?’

  He stared at her. ‘Fuck’s sake, my darling, who do you think?’

  ‘Of course,’ Mia conceded. ‘Even if she goes mental and sees herself as a John Grisham heroine, Bob’ll keep her feet on the ground. If Chaz is guilty, he’ll know and advise her accordingly. But is he guilty?’

  ‘How would I know?’ McCullough snorted. ‘But one thing’s obvious. They must be able to place him at the scene for him to have been arrested so quickly. ‘

  She gazed at her glass for a time, mulling over his assertion. ‘Wait a minute,’ she countered, eventually. ‘He could have been calling in on the guys who live below. You told me that there are three of them, young foreign guys.’

  ‘One of them’s English but yes, that’s right. However, if Chaz had gone there, and not to the penthouse, they’d know that. The security camera would have shown him there.’

  ‘You know a lot about the place,’ Mia remarked.

  ‘I should do. I own it . . . or rather you do.’

  ‘I do?’ she spluttered. ‘What are you talking about?’

  He smiled; there was a little guilt in it. ‘We have a pre-nuptial agreement, yes?’ he began.

  ‘Yes, it defines our assets . . . yours, since I brought nothing . . . at the time of our marriage, and if you die before me it guarantees me at least fifty per cent of any property acquired after that date. Fair enough.’

  ‘I’m glad you feel that way. As for those defined assets, you know that my granddaughter will get the lot, with you having life rents on the house here in the hotel grounds and on the one in Spain. That will leave her a very wealthy young lady.’

  Mia held up a hand. ‘Hold on a minute! It could leave her a very wealthy old lady. You’re sixty-two and you’re as fit as most of the Merrytown first team. Cheeky could be your age by the time she inherits.’

  ‘That’s possible,’ he agreed, ‘but my grip on the planet might be more tenuous than you believe. I didn’t do all the things that Bob Skinner and his pals say I did, but I have made a few formidable enemies along the way, nasty guys with long memories. I might be fit, but I’m not bombproof.’ He paused, looking almost coy.

  ‘I was keeping this as a surprise,’ he continued, ‘but you’ve stumbled across it now. I’ve started to move stuff in your direction. I bought the top two floors of that block in King Robert Village, but I did it through a property company I set up, in your name. You’re the only director.’

  ‘What?’ his wife gasped. He had taken her completely by surprise and that pleased him. ‘How could you do that without me knowing? Surely I had to sign something to be a company director.’

  ‘You did. That bank account I asked you to sign for a few months ago, that was for the company. It’s called Sparkle Holdings Limited, by the way, after your old radio name when you worked on the station in Edinburgh.’

  ‘Bloody hell, I made that name disappear, sharpish. I hope nobody cottons on.’

  ‘There’s nobody left that it would bother. And suppose there was . . .’

  ‘Your reputation would keep them at bay?’

  He nodded. ‘My alleged reputation. You know I’m a pussycat at heart, but if others think I’m a tiger, let them.’

  ‘Does that include your business partner in the football club?’

  ‘Dimitri Rogozin?’ he chuckled. ‘He and I know exactly what each other is.’

  ‘Is that why he asked you to invest in the football club?’ Mia asked.

  ‘He didn’t. It was the other way around. I was offered the deal by the consortium that owned the club before, old guys who’d run out of steam and money. I fancied it, but it had to be a serious business proposition. After the Rangers fiasco, I saw a gap in the Scottish football market for a financially sound, properly run team. The only problem was that I couldn’t invest the money it would need without attracting attention. So I brought in Rogozin.’

  ‘Why him?’

  ‘Because I own half of his business in Russia.’

  He forestalled any follow-up questions by beckoning the sommelier, and tasting the Sancerre that he had ordered. ‘Nice,’ he murmured. ‘Please tell the kitchen we’re ready for our starters when they’re ready for us. Customers come first, as always,’ he added.

  ‘Commendable,’ his wife said, with a hint of sarcasm. ‘Now, back to your latest bombshell: you are Rogozin’s business partner?’ Her stare was incredulous.

  ‘Yes, but that stays between us. Not even Cheeky knows that.’

  ‘I thought she knew everything.’

  ‘No. Some stuff she doesn’t need to know. It would be bad for her, professionally. She’s a big-firm chartered accountant, remember.’

  ‘So it’s iffy.’

  ‘Some might see it that way,’ McCullough conceded. ‘Let’s go back ten years, give or take; at that time my “above ground” businesses, construction, property, leisure, were all going very well, and the Inland Revenue did very nicely out of them. But I was also generating profit below the line and offshore, that I saw as outside its remit. I needed somewhere to invest that money, and I just happened to bump into Dimitri when I was looking around. He was a go-ahead guy then, if a bit full of himself, operating in Russia in some of the same sectors as me, and starting to do well. However, he was short of development capital, so he asked me if I was interested in going in with him. I checked him out via some people I knew out there, and got good feedback. He knew the right politicians and he didn’t have any enemies of the wrong sort; he seemed like a sound guy. I went with him on a fifty-fifty basis initially, and it’s paid off.’

  ‘You laundered money through him,’ she said, bluntly.

  He drew a deep breath and his eyes seemed to chill a little, but the moment passed. ‘Some might say that,’ he murmured. ‘That’s why I’ve never shared this with my granddaughter.’