The Bad Fire (Bob Skinner series, Book 31): A shocking murder case brings danger too close to home for ex-cop Bob Skinner in this gripping Scottish crime thriller

by Quintin Jardine

  ‘Nothing. I saw nothing that would help you either, except . . .’ he paused as the last stitch was tied off and the doctor left, ‘at least one of them’s likely to have my blood on his shoes. I saw him step in it as they legged it.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘That was a wise choice; if they’d gone for Alex, cut wide open or not, I’d have held one back and let her take care of the other. Then it would have been open season on number two. As it is, when I do find them . . .’

  ‘Don’t go there, Griff,’ Sauce cautioned him. ‘I’m worried enough about what’ll happen when the big fella finds out about this.’

  ‘My father must not find out about this,’ Alex snapped. ‘You will say nothing to him, Sauce. I insist on that.’

  His eyes widened; he gasped. ‘You are joking, aren’t you? You want me to be the man who didn’t tell Bob Skinner that his daughter was attacked by two hitmen who broke into her home? As it happens, by “the big fella”, I meant DCC McGuire, who’s known you since you were in the fucking Guides. I have to tell him, because it’s my job. You think he won’t tell your dad? Alex, these blokes would be better off handing themselves in to the United Nations than the police. Far safer.’

  He broke off as the nurse who had admitted them came into the cubicle to dress Montell’s stitched wound. The three kept silent as she worked. ‘That’s it,’ she announced when she was satisfied. ‘We want to keep you in overnight for observation. We’re sorting out a bed for you.’

  ‘Nurse,’ Montell said, ‘it’s twenty past six; “overnight” is almost over. Find me something less revealing that I can wear until I’m reunited with my clothes at Alex’s place, and we’ll both be out of here.’

  She smiled. ‘Let me rephrase that. We want to keep you in for at least twenty-four hours. I’ll be back soon.’

  ‘Behave yourself, Griff,’ the DI murmured. ‘You know she’s right; it may only be a three out of ten by our standards, but it’s still a significant knife wound. Besides,’ he went on, ‘not even Alex can go back to Alex’s place.’

  ‘You what?’ Her reaction was a second ahead of Montell’s.

  ‘You can’t go back because it’s a crime scene, and,’ he added, ‘because you wouldn’t be safe there. Wind back to something I said before the nurse came in.’

  ‘Specifically?’ she demanded.

  ‘Hitmen, Alex; I called them hitmen. Why do you think I’m here? I’m Serious Crimes; I wasn’t called just because I know you, but because the judgement is that it’s an incident that falls within my remit. When the specialist burglary team arrived at your place, just after the ambulance had left, it took them no time at all to realise it wasn’t your usual housebreaking.’

  ‘Why shouldn’t it be?’ Montell asked.

  Haddock sighed. ‘You’re sedated, Inspector, so I’ll make allowances for your slowness on the uptake. First and foremost, because Alex lives in a duplex on the seventh floor – or is it the eighth? – of a secure apartment block. Secure,’ he repeated. ‘Which of you locked up last night?’

  ‘I did,’ Alex replied.

  ‘Did you use your security chain?’

  ‘I always do.’

  ‘Right. The burglary team assumed that, and they found that your door had not been forced. The lock – not a simple one – was picked, and the chain was undone by a magnet, certainly. They got up there in the lift, not a big risk at three a.m., after they’d gained access through the garage, using a reader to decode the touchpad. These were not casual housebreakers, Alex, they were professionals. It’s a possibility – and I am only saying this because I know you’re tough enough to cope with it – that they didn’t do all that to take your diamonds, but to take your life.’

  Twenty-One

  ‘On no account do that, Sauce,’ Mario McGuire instructed. They were in Haddock’s room in the old Fettes police building; the remains of bacon rolls and two takeaway coffee mugs sat on his desk. ‘Do not call Bob Skinner; leave that to me. You focus on the crime and forget the people involved. What resources do you need? I know you’re tight, with Sammy Pye being off on paternity leave. No, don’t ask me what I think about that,’ he grumbled. ‘Equal opportunity employer, my arse.’

  ‘At the moment I’m okay for bodies, sir; I’ve got the two DSs, McClair and Singh, and Jackie Wright’s worth as much as either of them.’ Haddock paused for thought, then took a chance. ‘Boss, is there anything about this that you’re keeping from me? Anything you know that might help explain why someone would want to attack Alex?’

  ‘If there was, you’d be the second to know it, Inspector. You’re the SIO; I’d keep nothing from you. Why do you ask?’

  ‘I’m curious about being told to stay away from the gaffer – from Sir Robert, I mean. I’m leading the investigation into an attack on his daughter. Shouldn’t you be more worried about keeping him away from me?’

  ‘That’s part of my thinking,’ the DCC admitted. ‘I don’t want him getting close to the investigation. If he gets wind of possible suspects, he’d be better at finding them than you, and if that happened . . .’

  ‘Come on, sir,’ Haddock said, ‘he’s a retired chief constable. You’re not suggesting he’d go vigilante on us, are you?’

  ‘Rule that out at your peril.’ McGuire picked up his coffee and took a sip. ‘Tell you a story that’s known to very few people. A long time ago, when I was still a DC and Alex was a student, she was kidnapped by a terror group, led by a guy who’d got close to her. There was a news blackout and only the basics were reported after the event, and after Alex was safe; what was never revealed was that when Bob caught up with them, it did not end well for the man.’

  ‘What happened to him?’

  ‘Bob did, and that’s all I’m saying. I don’t want history repeating itself, but if he finds these two before you, chances are it will. If it does, you will never know about it; they will disappear, and it will be as if they never were. Christ, man,’ he exclaimed, ‘when you do catch them, don’t let me be in the same room with them, let alone him!’

  ‘Understood. I brief you and you alone on the investigation, and you brief him?’

  ‘As far as it’s prudent to do so.’

  ‘Have you given any thought to the possibility this might be terror-related?’ Haddock asked. ‘That someone might have wanted to make a statement and Alex might have been seen as an easier target than her father?’

  ‘I won’t discount it,’ McGuire conceded. ‘You can be sure that Bob’ll be using his MI5 contacts for any whisper of that. I’ll make sure that if there is any relevant feedback, you’re made aware.’ He drained his mug. ‘Now I must go and pick up Alex from the Royal and give Montell a pat on the shoulder, for courage, and just for being there.’

  ‘And then?’

  ‘I’ll take her to Gullane and break the news to himself. Hold on to your desk in around an hour; there could be a fucking earthquake.’

  Twenty-Two

  ‘What was Montell doing there?’ Bob Skinner asked his daughter brusquely.

  ‘Pops!’ she shot back. ‘Twenty years back, when Alison Higgins arrived with her toothbrush, did I ask you that?’

  ‘As a matter of fact, you did once. I told you she was keeping me company.’

  ‘Same answer. I was at a loose end; I called Griff, and so was he; we went for a meal in the Lookout up on Calton Hill, and then back to mine . . . for coffee.’

  ‘How is he?’

  ‘Scarred and angry, but he’ll survive. I’m glad he’s in uniform now; he’s going to need a quiet life for a while.’

  ‘I wish you’d gone to his.’

  ‘What difference would it have made? They’d have come another night.’

  ‘Maybe,’ Mario McGuire agreed, his bulk making Skinner’s small home office seem like a cupboard, ‘but how did they know you were in last night? If they’d been watching you, they’d have known Montell was there.’

  ‘I’ve been thinking about that,’ she said. ‘Just before midnight, my phone rang, the landline.
I answered it and a man’s voice said, “Sorry, wrong number”, then he hung up. It must have been them, surely. Maybe you can trace them through the number.’

  Skinner looked up at the sky, where three birds flew. ‘They’re seagulls, not pigs. It will either be a call box or a burner phone.’

  ‘If you can find the call box, you might get them on CCTV.’

  ‘Exactly,’ McGuire commented, ‘so my money’s on the disposable SIM.’ He frowned as he looked at her. ‘Alex, you’re a criminal advocate. Have you defended anyone lately who might have a grudge against you?’

  ‘Nobody that I can think of. Without boasting, Mario, I’m rather good at what I do. If I take a case to trial, it’s because I believe the Crown Office doesn’t have an overwhelming case against my client. If it does, I try to strike a plea bargain. Usually that works out okay. Sorry, I don’t believe I have any stalkers out there.’

  ‘There’s another side to it,’ her father pointed out. ‘Your guilty clients – and maybe some of those who’re acquitted too – they all leave victims behind them. Have you ever been threatened by one of them?’

  ‘If I had, I’d have reported it to the police. I wouldn’t sit still for crap like that.’

  ‘Maybe not, but can you think of anybody you’ve ever had concerns about, people who might harbour a grudge?’

  She shook her head. ‘It isn’t like that, Pops. I’ve only ever heard of one advocate being threatened and he was a high-profile Celtic supporter who made the mistake of walking into a Rangers pub one night. Look, I am sorry. If Sauce’s theory is correct – and yours, Mario – and these people broke into my apartment to do me harm, then I cannot see how it relates to anything in my professional life.’

  ‘Honestly, kid,’ her father exclaimed. ‘I don’t give a bugger what their motive was. We have to accept that they were after you, and my focus now is to keep you safe. You’re staying here for the duration and you’ll have police protection in the office and the court. Right, Mario?’

  ‘Too damn!’

  ‘No way!’ she cried. ‘Police keeping a general eye on me I will accept, but I am not staying here. My brothers and sisters live here. If I am attacked again, who knows how they’ll do it? An IED, a grenade launcher? All three of us know that the Scottish criminal arsenal is pretty bloody formidable. You know I am right about this, Father.’

  ‘Yes,’ he sighed, ‘I do.’ He scratched his head. ‘I suppose I could park you with Grandpa McCullough. Whatever the truth about his reputation, nobody fucks with him.’

  ‘Too far away. Besides, Ignacio’s there.’

  ‘True again. How about Griff’s place? I’m sure he’d have you.’

  ‘Yeah, and then he’d want me to stay there for good. No thanks. Besides, he’d be no bloody use as a bodyguard. The way he is at the moment, I’d be protecting him.’

  ‘As a police officer, he could be armed,’ McGuire volunteered.

  ‘No thanks,’ Alex replied. ‘I don’t want that.’

  ‘Fair enough,’ Bob said. ‘Leave it with me. There’s a solution somewhere; I’ll find it.’ He turned to McGuire. ‘Mario, thanks for looking after my kid. I’ll check in on Haddock regularly to see how he’s doing.’

  ‘The hell you will. He has his orders: he doesn’t share with you at all, only with me. You don’t involve yourself in this investigation, Bob.’

  ‘You are fucking joking, aren’t you? As soon as you leave here, I’ll be pushing certain buttons with my friend in London.’

  McGuire laughed. ‘As I told Sauce you would. Any worthwhile feedback you get you can pass to him – through me. If you’re in the mood to go chasing people, you can satisfy it through that thing you reported to me yesterday.’

  ‘What’s that?’ Alex asked.

  ‘David Brass’s ex,’ Bob replied. ‘I did a bit of digging, looked at the autopsy report with Graham Scott. It wasn’t a suicide.’

  ‘No kidding? From the look on your face it wasn’t an accidental overdose either, so you’re saying . . .’

  ‘She was murdered. Held down and injected with morphine. Graham’s sure of it and so am I.’

  ‘Why wasn’t that discovered nine years ago?’

  ‘SFU.’

  ‘Somebody fucked up. Jesus!’ she whispered, and not in prayer. ‘Could that relate to the shoplifting thing? Carrie McDaniels asked me for a meeting yesterday afternoon, but by the time I got her message it was too late. I tried to get in touch with her last night, but no joy. I need to try again,’ she said anxiously. ‘Whether the murder is related or not, she needs to be aware of it. So does David.’

  ‘She needs to back off altogether,’ McGuire said. ‘It’s a police matter now. An investigation will be set up, and it’ll be taking a look at everything that was happening in Marcia Brown’s life at that time, not just her predilection for petty pilfering. Everything McDaniels has done up to now will need to be reported to the inquiry team.’

  ‘Who’s the SIO?’

  ‘A recent client of yours: DCI Charlotte Mann.’ He smiled and nodded towards Skinner. ‘With a mentor,’ he added. ‘I knew there was no point in asking him to stay out of it, so I didn’t even try.’

  ‘First things first, though,’ Skinner declared. ‘Let’s get our priorities sorted out. The most immediate is Alex’s short-term security, the second is me briefing Lottie Mann, and the third is getting in touch with Carrie McDaniels. Alex, you can do that while I make a call about priority number one; I have just had the brainwave to end all brainwaves. When it comes to bodyguarding you, my first two choices would be Mario here, and Neil McIlhenney. They’re not available, so it takes me to the third name on my list.’

  ‘Who is it?’ she asked.

  Bob grinned. ‘Let me make that call first.’

  ‘Who is it?’ Mario repeated.

  The grin became a chuckle. ‘DCC McGuire, you probably don’t want to know.’

  Twenty-Three

  ‘Who was that?’ Dan Provan asked, glancing up from the sofa, where he sat beside young Jakey Mann, each with a game controller in hand. ‘There was a lot of “sir-ing” going on, whoever it was. Not that useless divisional commander, I hope, interrupting our hard-earned Sunday.’

  ‘Our?’ Lottie Mann laughed. ‘Hard-earned? Are you telling me you regard three lectures a week at the Jackton police college as hard work? From what you’ve told me, you spend more time in the gym there than you do in the classroom.’

  ‘I’ve got to embrace my new persona, Lot.’

  After over thirty years of police service, most of it spent in Strathclyde CID – for whose senior command he had developed a level of cynicism that bordered on contempt – a lifestyle that if not self-destructive had shown little concern for his long-term welfare, and a broken marriage, Detective Sergeant Provan had been persuaded to take a sabbatical to visit his daughter on Australia’s Gold Coast. The man who returned had been so radically different that even Mann, who had spent most of her own service under his guidance, even after she had risen above him in the ranks, was astonished, and barely recognised him when she met from the airport. The boozy cynic had become a fitness fanatic, with horizons broadened and a new set of ambitions, none of which related to continuing his police career. He had taken the retirement package that had been his right for several years, and had been signed up immediately by the senior command of the new national police service to share his experiences and imbue the professional education of a new generation of detectives with practical policing common sense.

  ‘Operate by the book, always,’ he told his students. ‘That’s your job. But never be afraid to edit it when the need arises.’

  His relationship with Lottie had changed almost as much. As a young detective she had looked up to him, even when he cut corners and did some extreme editing of the rule book. She knew that she was twice the cop for him than she would have been without. She had always liked him, and yet there had been something else too, something living just beyond her imagination. It had f
allen into place after the Australian metamorphosis: she had feelings for him that went beyond admiration. When Dan accepted that he felt the same things that she did, the realisation had astonished them both.

  Their relationship was still based on fellowship more than on physicality. They had tried that, shyly, a few times, always on neutral ground, with Jakey in the care of his aunt. It had been good, but in truth, sex had never been a driving force for either of them. There was talk of moving in together – Dan’s house was bigger than hers, and mortgage-free – and there was a tacit agreement that it would happen. They had gone as far as to take Jakey to meet the head teacher of the primary school that he would attend, without putting a date on the move.

  ‘Embrace it as hard as you can,’ she replied, ‘and one day it might be able to beat a pre-teen at a video game.’

  ‘Don’t wait up,’ he muttered. ‘Have you seen how complicated these things are? I had trouble with that tennis ball that went in slow straight lines; I’m right out my depth here. Jakey,’ he pleaded, ‘gie’s a break, son. Is there no’ a handicap system or something like that?’

  The boy laughed and exploded another mutant with a rocket.

  ‘You going to tell me who it was?’ Dan asked again, as the carnage continued.

  She dropped on to the sofa beside him. ‘It was the DCC.’

  ‘The big DCC? McGuire?’

  ‘Himself. He called to warn me that wee John Cotter and I are heading up a major new investigation. Suspicious death.’

  Provan frowned. ‘Then what are you doin’ here? Should you not be on your way to the crime scene?’

  ‘There is no crime scene. It’s an old case where some new evidence has been uncovered. We’re to give it top priority, I think because there’s politics involved.’

  ‘Holyrood?’

  ‘No, local level; the West Coast Council. That’s all I know; he said we’ll get the briefing, me and Cotter, tomorrow morning, my office ten o’clock.’

  ‘No’ exactly a sense of urgency. Bugger it,’ he snapped as he failed to dispatch a titanic orc. ‘Who’s doing the briefing?’