'Can I ask you, sir, in which direction do the geese fly?'
'Westward; by evening and night, they fly westward.'
'Good, that tells me from the sound pattern that the cal er was to the east of your home.'
'Anything else?' asked Skinner, eagerly. 'Was there anything else on his track? Can you tell what type of telephone it was?'
The American chuckled on the other end of the secure line. 'We ain't that good, sir. It was a touchtone telephone, and the cal er disabled your 1471 tracing service, but you knew that already. There were other sounds though, faintly, beneath the geese. An automobile passed close by during the call travelling in a straight line at about forty miles per hour. And there was music playing nearby. Further away, there was the sound of a woman, shouting angrily. Does any of that help?'
Skinner grunted. 'It might. Listen, Agent, or whatever I should cal you, that's great work. I want copies of al these tapes sent up here for my people as soon as possible, like today. Can you isolate that woman's voice?'
'Sure. I'll put that on a separate tape. I'll have everything with you by courier by mid-afternoon. Meantime, we'l keep on working.
We can take resolution up practically to the level of an individual goose. You never know what else we might turn up.'
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Detective Chief Superintendent Martin was seated at his desk as Skinner rapped on his door and burst into the room. Detective Constable Sammy Pye, with his back to the door, looked over his shoulder and sprang to his feet.
'I'm just getting young Sammy started on that list you ordered, sir,' said the Head of CID.
'Good,' said Skinner, closing the door behind him, and waving Pye back to his seat, 'but put it on hold for now. Our Friends in the South have come up trumps. We know where the caller was when he phoned me, and you're not going to believe it. The cheeky bastard was within a quarter of a mile of my bloody house!'
Martin's eyebrows rose. 'You what?' he gasped, incredulously.
'That's right. The background noise gave him away. From what I've been told, my guess is that he cal ed from the phone box outside the Post Office, across the road from the pub. However we can't be certain of that. Chief Superintendent, I want to know, from British Telecom, the location of every telephone in Gullane that was used at ten fifty last Saturday night, and I want every one of those subscribers checked out.'
He paused. 'I can't believe that the guy would actual y hide Mark in my home vil age, but it's the first lead we've had and it must be fol owed. Unless we turn up something from the telephone check, I want a house-by-house check of the whole place. You can leave mine out, but I want every other door in that village knocked.'
'What are we looking for?'
'We're looking for a lucky break, Andy.'
The Head of CID grunted assent. 'Yes, like the guy stil being around. It beggars belief, though, to think that he actually lives there.'
'Sure, I agree. But he phoned from there. It's not beyond belief that he might be hiding out there. Remember, there are stil weekend cottages and holiday homes in Gul ane . . . my own among them, til recently at any rate.'
'Do we know which they are?'
'A few, through Neighbourhood Watch, but not al , not by any means. Quite a few are just left from one visit to the next. Some have private caretaking arrangements.'
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'How do you want to play it? What line should our officers take with the householders when they knock their doors? These people are your neighbours, after al .'
Skinner pondered the question for a while. 'Simple is best,' he said. 'Let's have them say that we're extending our enquiries out from Edinburgh. Ask each occupier if he's seen anything out of the ordinary in the area, and ask those with substantial outbuildings - and there are some; you've seen them, up the Hill - whether they've checked them lately.
'Where a house is unoccupied, see if the neighbours know anything about the owner.'
Martin nodded. 'Let's think carefully about all this,' he said. 'We've got an advantage, here. Our man can't know that we're on to the fact that he called from Gullane. We want to keep that information secret for as long as we can.'
'Fine. In that case let's keep it literally to ourselves. Other than you, me, and our staffs, the people doing the rounds can simply be told what we've just decided to tell the punters; that the search is being widened. They'l be al the more convincing if they don't know any different themselves.
'You'l need more leg-power for al this, so you'd better mobilise Brian Mackie and Maggie Rose. All of a sudden this investigation has spilled over into their area.' Skinner nodded to himself, as if in satisfaction. 'How quickly can you get it done?'
'It'll be done within forty-eight hours.'
'Quicker, if you can. Start today. While that's happening, there's something else we should do. I want officers in all five pubs and hotel bars in Gul ane this evening, checking on everyone who was out for a bevvy on Saturday.
'Someone may have seen our man in the phone box, and may be able to give us a description.' He paused. 'We'll need a cover story for that too. Tell our troops that we're looking for someone who's been using the box to make obscene phone cal s. Christ,' he added grimly, 'that's true, in a way.'
Skinner turned to leave. 'There'll be another line of investigation to be fol owed up also,' he said, 'but I can't do anything about that until a certain tape arrives from London.'
He opened the door, then stopped, and spun round to face Martin and Pye again. 'Call box. Coins. Sammy, get on to Telecom and have them empty the cash from that phone box. You never know, maybe my cal er left a thumbprint on a ten-pence piece that'll help us put a name to his voice.'
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Pamela frowned at him across the kitchen, as she ladled soup into two shal ow white bowls. 'Is this how it's going to be? You nipping home at lunchtime to check up on me?' She handed him a bowl and a plate of thick-cut sandwiches, and gestured him towards the door.
'Don't be daft,' he protested, carrying his snack though to the big living area other top-floor flat, and sitting on the couch which faced the bigW-shaped window, draped with white muslin now, where once it had offered an uninterrupted view of the Water ofLeith as it coursed towards the sea.
'I'm here because I want to be. On top of that, I had that news for you about the phone cal .'
Unsmiling, Pam set about her lunch. 'Look,' she said, final y, 'how much longer do I have to stay here? I feel like a hostage. If I'm supposed to be on leave, can't I at least go out?'
'Yes,' said Skinner, 'if you take your escorts with you.'
'Oh really! This man won't come after me.'
In shirtsleeves, he shrugged his shoulders. 'If there's only one chance in a hundred of that,' he said, 'I'm stil not going to take it.
Whoever this guy is he certainly identifies with me. Maybe it's purely because I'm a high-profile police figure that he can thumb his nose at, but my publicised connection with wee Mark McGrath makes that unlikely.
'Against that background, in the light of the Spotlight story, you have to be protected.'
She looked at him, as he devoured his last sandwich. 'Should I really be scared, then?' she asked, quietly, when he was finished.
'Not while you're here, with protection outside. Not while I'm here. Women and kids are this man's size.'
She looked at him again, sulkily. 'But couldn't you protect me in the office? After all, I'm sure this leave I'm taking will come off my annual al owance ... don't try and tell me different. I can see the Spotlight headline now: "Skinner's girlfriend gets extra holidays!" '
'It's because of Spotlight that we ... okay, I... thought you'd be better away from the office for a few days.'
'What!' She sat bolt upright, sulking seriously now. 'I thought this was al about security. But you mean you and Andy decided I'd 91
be better kept out of the way for a while to save embarrassment.
Whose, in that
case? Mine, or yours?'
His eyebrows came together in a single heavy line. 'I'm still there, remember,' he growled.
'Oh, so you are embarrassed!'
'No, I didn't say that. It's you that I'm concerned about.'
Her expression softened. 'Yes,' she said, 'I suppose you are. But, please, don't make decisions about me without involving me. Even if you are my commanding officer.' She hesitated. 'Let me come back, please. If people point fingers at me it'l be behind my back, and I can take that, I think. Let's do what we've done up to now, travel to and from work separately, and steer clear of each other in the office.'
She slid across beside him on the couch, and poked him in the ribs. 'Come on, I'l bet you need me, too. Don't tel me that the Head of CID isn't short-handed just now. It isn't right to keep me here, when I could be out helping you catch the man who murdered Mrs McGrath and stole her son.'
He laid his plate and bowl on the floor, and turned towards her, his hands gripping her upper arms, gently. 'Okay,' he said, smiling.
'I give up. You can come in tomorrow. But either we go in together or you get a lift from the protection people. Deal?'
'Deal.' She nodded, slipping free of his grasp, threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. 'Now,' she whispered, 'since this is a one-off occasion, what say we take ful advantage of it?'
He disengaged himself, still grinning. 'One triumph per lunch hour's enough for you,' he said. 'I have to get back to the office.
There's a hot tape coming up from London. Meantime, you can spend the afternoon deciding whether you intend to sue the Spotlight for defaming your impeccable character.'
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Sammy Pye was waiting in the Command Corridor as Skinner bounded up the stairs from the smal entrance hal way. The DCC
knew at once that, whatever news he had brought, he would not be starting his afternoon with a smile.
'What's the damage?' he asked the glum young detective.
'It's that phone box, sir,' said Pye, heavily. 'The cash compartment was emptied at half past nine this morning. By the time I spoke to Telecom the money was back at their regional office, mixed up with the takings from about thirty other kiosks.
'I've told them not to bank it til they hear from us.'
Skinner shook his head. 'Sam, with that number of boxes, even if we had enough technicians to dust all those coins, we'd be cross-matching prints from now til Christmas. You tell Telecom they can bank their cash. Let them concentrate on giving us that list of numbers in use last Saturday night, at eleven.'
The young man's earnest face brightened. 'I've got that already, sir. There were six phones used in Gullane at that time, as well as the cal box.' He caught Skinner's expression and nodded. 'Yes, sir, BT
confirmed that it was used at the time in question.
'Mr Martin told me to give the list to Superintendent Mackie,' he went on, quickly, 'for him to check it out.'
'That's good. Thanks, Pye.'
The young man nodded and made to leave, but hesitated. 'Yes?'
said Skinner. 'Something bothering you?'
The constable took a deep breath. 'Well, sir, couldn't we just check the subscribers and see who they are? I mean most of the folk in Gul ane are . ..' He stopped, sensing a chasm before him.
Skinner smiled. 'Are old bufties, you were going to say? Like me, you mean?'
'Well, eh.,.'
'You're right, of course. I'l probably know most of them. No, Sam, the main reason for checking every call is to prove beyond doubt that it was the phone box that was used.'
Pye nodded, and headed off, back to the CID suite to pass his message to BT. Skinner stepped into his secretary's office. 'Any deliveries?' he asked.
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Ruth nodded and picked up a tape cassette box from her desk, waving it in the air. 'Ten minutes ago,' she said.
'Excellent,' said the DCC. 'Let's hear it. Full blast.'
On her side table, his secretary kept a radio cassette player, which was used mainly for monitoring radio news bulletins. She took the tape from its box, inserted it in the slot and pressed 'play', twisting the volume control to a high setting.
At first they heard only hissing, but after thirty seconds or so, the sound changed. There was no background noise at al , only a woman's voice, shouting but slurring, her words insistent, but thick, as if with alcohol. 'Lemme go, lemme go,' she called out.
Then a man's voice - not so loud, flatter, but sounding just as drunk. 'Fuckn' bitch,' he said.
'Lemme go, ya bassa.' Another slurred shout. Then a sound, a crack, the noise possibly of palm meeting cheek.
The hissing resumed once more. Ruth pressed the stop button and rewound the tape. 'There's a note with it,' she said, handing Skinner a folded sheet of paper. He opened it and read.
' This is what we were able to do. The man s voice was a bonus. I guess your cal er used a phone box and that he had the door open!
Skinner smiled, guessing why he would choose to do that at such an hour on a Saturday night. 'The mikes on your public phones are very good. The people you hear on the tape could have been up to twenty-five yards away. Good Luck, Caroline Farmer.'1
He looked at Ruth. 'Some bonuses from my Saturday cal ,' he said. 'It was made from the phone box near my cottage.'
'Mmm,' she said. 'You do have the nicest neighbours, don't you?'
Skinner grinned at the waspish dryness of her humour. 'Aye,' he nodded, 'and I'm going to find out who they are too. Have a copy made, and give it to me. I'll send Mcllhenney out to Gullane to play it, discreetly, to the pub owners and bar staff in the vil age.
'He should get a laugh from them, at least, and maybe, a couple of names.'
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Detective Superintendent Brian Mackie's expression was usually deadpan, and so, as the McGrath investigation team filed into the conference room at the St Leonards Divisional Police Office at exactly 9 a.m. on Tuesday morning, Andy Martin was surprised to note that he looked a shade nervous.
He strolled up to the head of the table, where Mackie stood. 'Chin up, Thin Man,' he whispered. 'You should be pleased that the Boss asked me to have you run the morning briefing, and on your turf too.'
'Sure,' said the newly promoted divisional CID commander, 'but it'd be easier if he wasn't here himself. This is the first time I've done something like this, outside Special Branch, and that wasn't the same at all. You know what the boss is like. He can't stop himself from jumping in, even when he isn't in the chair.'
The Head of CID grinned. 'Don't I bloody know it. But don't worry. I've asked him to be on his best behaviour.'
Mackie, his shiny bald head adding to his cadaverous look, looked unconvinced. 'Aye, but even at that. I really feel in the spotlight here, considering who I've taken over from.'
'You put that right out of your mind. With hindsight, you should have been in this job before him anyway. If you hadn't been so valuable in SB, you probably would have been.'
For the first time, the slim detective looked reassured. 'Kind of you to say that, Andy, true or not.' He paused, and looked around the room as if searching for a face. Skinner, making his way along the far side of the room, caught his eye and nodded.
'The boss is here, but is your sergeant coming?' the Superintendent murmured.
'No way,' replied Martin, quietly. 'He's let her come back to work this morning, but I'm going to make sure that they're never in the same room, not with other officers around anyway.'
Mackie nodded. 'Good. Especially not with Maggie Rose. She's good at studied disapproval, is my second-in-command.'
He looked up to see Skinner reach Detective Chief Inspector Rose, his Executive Assistant before Pamela Masters' brief tenure in the post. 'Mornin' Mags,' said the DCC. 'How's the new boss?'
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Rose looked over her shoulder towards Mackie. 'Strict but fair just about covers it, sir,' she said with a faint smile. If Skinner noticed that it was less warm than usual, h
e gave no sign.
'Bit like me, you mean?' He reached out to shake the Superintendent's hand. 'Mornin' Brian. Christ,' he said suddenly. 'Look at the three of you. Al graduates from my private office. A certain route to the top, indeed.' Skinner rarely said anything simply to make conversation, but the words were out before he could stop them. Had he not known Maggie Rose so well he would never have noticed the slight change in her expression.
'Anyway,' he said, quickly. 'Let's get on with it.' He nodded towards a chair at the side of the table. 'Brian, I'll sit over there, and I'll try to keep my mouth shut, honest. Arrange the rest as you like.'
Mackie nodded and rapped the table. 'Okay, ladies and gentlemen,'
he called out, 'if you'll all take seats, please.' He looked around the room. In addition to Skinner, Martin and Rose, by his side, Sammy Pye and Neil Mcllhenney faced him across the table, together with three other officers, two men and a woman.
Quickly, the room came to order.
'Very good,' said the Superintendent, flanked in his seat by his deputy and by the Head of CID. 'This briefing has been cal ed to review progress yesterday in our enquiries in Gullane, where a lead has developed in the McGrath Murder investigation.' He glanced round at Martin. 'Of the officers involved in the investigation, sir, only the people in this room know the ful story, that Mr Skinner's cal on Saturday was made from Gullane.'
Briefly, but comprehensively, Mackie related the developments since Skinner's unexpected telephone call, and since the discovery of its point of origin.
'First of all,' he said, once everyone was up to date, 'let's deal with the follow-up visits to the six telephone subscribers on that BT list.
Sergeant Reid, you handled that...'
The second female officer in the room nodded, and sat straighter in her chair. 'Yes, sir. They've al been checked out, as far as possible.'
'How did you go about it?' asked Martin.
'Discreetly, sir, as ordered. Mr Mackie said that what we really wanted was to get a look at these people. So I told every person I visited that I was investigating reports of nuisance phone cal s in the area, and was checking to see whether they'd had any. Just to make it convincing, sir, I cal ed on al the homes around each of the names on my list.'
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