Autographs in the Rain

by Quintin Jardine

  'I'm a lucky man, eh?' said the inspector. 'What a legacy. Now, what

  dug you two from the bosoms of your respective families? You didn't just

  come to see mine.'

  'No,' the DCC admitted. 'It has to do with Lou. After you dropped her

  off last night, she had a mishap.' He outlined what had happened in Louise

  Bankier's suite, and was struck by the mix of horror and anxiety which

  crossed the face of his exec.

  'Who the hell would do a thing like that to the woman?' he

  exclaimed.

  'I'm betting that it's the same bastard who fired that shotgun in London

  last Friday night. . . not at me, but at Lou. Do either of you disagree with

  that assumption?'

  'No,' said the Head of CID. 'Someone's stalking her, trying to scare the

  life out of her. A blank cartridge, then a smoke bomb; nasty stuff.'

  'Yes, but who's to say that the next one won't be lethal? We have to

  assume that it will be, and we have to give her protection. Who she is, the

  fact that she's a friend of mine, that doesn't come into it. There's a clear

  threat to her safety and she has to be protected. At the same time, we have

  to keep it quiet. This sort of craziness can bring all sorts of bugs out of the

  woodwork; we don't want any copy-catting.

  'However, there's a limit to what we can do. Lou has a movie commitment

  .. . fortunately it's here in Edinburgh, but she won't cancel it.'

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  'No,' Mcllhenney murmured. 'She's not the sort of lady to be frightened

  into seclusion.'

  'Exactly. So we have to help her get on with her life, as safely as we

  can.'

  'We need a safe house then, Boss,' the inspector suggested.

  'She won't have it. But I won't have her in a hotel. Nor will she agree to

  stay at my place; not with the kids there, she says ... as if I couldn't fortify

  it, but there it is. So what I plan to do is have her rent a house for her stay

  here ... a detached house, not a flat or a semi . . . install certain security

  devices that she doesn't need to know about, like geophones to detect

  movement in the garden, and an alarm system linked to the nearest nick, or

  somewhere suitable. Then I'm going to persuade her to bring her secretary

  up here, for company as much as anything else.

  'On top of all that, I want to give her a minder; someone to watch over

  her, to make sure she gets to work safely, then home at night, to take her

  shopping if she wants to go, to keep an eye on her if she wants to go out for

  a meal.'

  'Got anyone in mind?' Mcllhenney asked, casually.

  'Yes. You; but it's not an order.'

  'It doesn't need to be; of course I'll do it.' He frowned. 'There is just

  one problem, though.'

  'I know,' said Skinner, 'and I've anticipated it. If there is an emergency,

  you can't just run off and leave Lauren and Spence. So ...

  'That girl you have as a part-time help. D'you think she'd work for you

  on a live-in basis for the duration of this job? Don't worry about the added

  cost; I can take care of that.'

  Til have to ask her, Boss, but I'm sure she will.' Neil paused. 'But what

  about Sammy Pye? He's single.'

  'Maybe, but he's too young. Whoever does this job has to be someone

  with whom Lou can feel comfortable, and safe. She knows you, plus she

  likes you; I could tell that last night over dinner. Besides, Sammy's full of

  Ruth McConnell at the moment, and Ruthie has her own problems, with

  her uncle's death and its aftermath.'

  He looked from one friend to the other. 'So that's it sorted then. Neil,

  you'll look after her. Andy, you'll catch the bastard who's after her.'

  33

  The approach to Howdengate Trout Farm was the opposite of that to

  Mgllerkirk. It ran along a tight, steep-sided valley, through which a river

  ran; Pringle was in no mood for a walk, so McGurk drove his Astra along

  the rough forest track, looking ahead carefully for boulders.

  They drove through woods for over a mile until they came suddenly to

  an end, and the unmade road opened out into a flat field with hills rising on

  either side. In the middle distance, they saw a number of buildings close to

  the river, and next to several large rectangular tanks half-buried in the ground.

  'Looks bigger than the other one,' the superintendent observed.

  'It is, sir, if the size of the loss is anything to go by. When I spoke to the

  manager he estimated the stock nicked at four tons.'

  'What's his name?'

  'Arthur Symonds,' McGurk replied. 'He'll be waiting for us, with the

  owner. His name's Glenn Lander; like Sir Adrian Watson, he owns the

  estate on which the farm stands. Trout's an extension of his business.'

  The sergeant drew to a halt beside half a dozen cars which were parked

  beside the first building. As the detectives climbed out two men walked

  towards them. They were both in their twenties. One was very tall, taller

  even than McGurk by a few inches, but more heavily built, with fair hair;

  the other was stocky, with a ruddy complexion and very wide shoulders. In

  build, he reminded Pringle of Andy Martin; as he approached with hand

  outstretched, he imagined him, too, in the back row of the scrum. Looking

  at the other man, he guessed that he might pack down immediately in front.

  'Mr Pringle? I'm Glenn Lander. And this is my manager, Arthur

  Symonds.'

  'Morning.' The policeman shook the landowner's hand, and nodded

  sideways. 'This is DS McGurk.'

  He was pleasantly surprised by the contrast between Lander and Sir

  Adrian Watson, but he saw no reason to show it. 'Well, gentlemen,' he

  barked. 'Have you two been living on another planet? I mean after what

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  happened last weekend, how the hell could you manage to lose another

  farmful of fresh fucking fish?'

  Arthur Symonds blushed bright red. 'It was my fault, I'm afraid.'

  'I'd have done the same thing, Art,' said Lander, at once. 'Don't blame

  yourself, because I won't.'

  'So what did happen? You guys were warned, weren't you, to keep the

  farm guarded overnight.'

  'Aye, we were,' the giant agreed. 'And I was here; only I had a phone

  call just before midnight. From the police in Hawick, or so they said. They

  told me that my father had been hit by a car on his way home from the pub

  and that he was critical. They told me that they were taking him to the

  Borders General, but that it was touch and go whether or not he made it.

  'I never thought, or doubted it for a second. I just jumped in the Land

  Rover and bombed out of here. When I got to the hospital they didn't know

  what the fuck I was talking about. Eventually I worked out what might

  have happened and called Glenn.'

  'You never thought to call home before you went tearing off?'

  'My dad lives alone, Mr Pringle. He's in the pub every Friday night, and

  every Friday night he's the worse for drink... no' just Fridays, either. I just

  took it at face value.'

  'So how long would it have been before you realised you'd been set

  up?'

  Symonds knotted his eyebrows. 'I never thought to c
heck my watch, but

  given the time it took me to get up to Gala, then the time I spent farting

  about the place trying to find my old man, it would have been over an hour,

  anyway.'

  The superintendent looked at the young estate owner. 'And you, Mr

  Lander? How did you react when Mr Symonds called you?'

  'Apart from calling him a dim-witted fucking second-rower, you mean,

  then having to apologise to my girlfriend for my language? After what

  happened to Mellerkirk last weekend, I jumped straight out of bed and

  drove to the farm. I was here inside ten minutes.'

  'Didn't you ever stop to wonder what you'd have done if you'd driven

  right into the middle of them?'

  'No, but I'd a shotgun in my jeep.'

  Pringle ran a hand over his eyes. 'I never heard that, son,' he murmured.

  'So what did you find?' he continued.

  'An empty farm, basically. There was nothing here but a lot of tyre tracks,

  a few fish left swimming in the tanks, and a few dead ones, on the ground

  and floating on the surface.'

  'Did you pass any large vehicles heading in the opposite direction as

  you were driving here?'

  'I didn't pass anything, Mr Pringle. I hit a deer on the road but that was

  all I saw.'

  'How many people do you employ here, sir?'

  'Two, in addition to Art. Then we have a vet who looks in regularly to

  check on the stock.'

  iWe'll want to speak to all of them.'

  Glenn Lander reached into a pocket. 'I guessed as much,' he said, pulling

  out a single sheet of paper. 'There are their names and addresses.' He made

  to hand it to Pringle, but Jack McGurk took it from him.

  'Do you have doubts about any of them?' asked the sergeant.

  'No. I've known the two workers since I was a kid, and Mr Gibb, the

  vet, has looked after the estate since God was a boy.'

  'We'll talk to them, nonetheless,' said Pringle. 'Who are your insurers?

  I assume you are covered.'

  'Royal Sun Alliance.'

  'Mmm. Mellerkirk's with CGU.'

  Lander laughed. 'Just as well. One company might not have fancied two

  claims in a week.'

  The bluff superintendent snorted. 'I think you'll find that the big

  commercial insurers all compare notes. You'd better budget for double the

  premium next year. Unless...' he barked, suddenly, 'you finally take police

  advice and install decent security.'

  'It'd still have to be cost-effective, Mr Pringle.'

  'We can arrange that, by advising the companies to adjust their

  premiums accordingly. They take police advice as well, you know, and

  I'll make damn sure they get it. I don't like being hauled out on a Saturday

  because you boys are too tight to pay for proper alarms and surveillance

  equipment.'

  The landowner shrugged his wide shoulders. 'Do that if you must. Now

  can Art and I go? We've got a game up at Raebura Place this afternoon;

  Edinburgh Accies Seconds.'

  'Don't let us keep you, then,' the superintendent muttered. 'But don't

  let the opposition sell the Big Yin here any dummies. He's bought one

  already this weekend.'

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  Lander laughed, and the two turned to leave, Symonds wearing a wounded

  look on his lofty face.

  The detectives watched them as they drove off, then walked across to

  one of the men who were left on the site. He was wearing a white tunic

  with black Wellingtons, and he had red hair. 'Morning Arthur,' Pringle

  called out. 'Solved the crime yet?'

  Detective Inspector Dorward, head of the forensics unit, turned and

  scowled at him as he stepped out of a taped-off area. 'You wish, sir,' he

  said, sourly. 'I got no fingerprints off any dead fish last week, and I don't

  suppose these'11 be any different.'

  'Can you tell us anything?'

  'Oh, yes. I can always tell you something. Last week I told you that

  there were four people involved in the raid, going by the footprints that

  were left around. They were all wearing wellies; we established from the

  casts we took that three sets were cheap own-brand jobs, bought almost

  certainly from Milletts, but the fourth was a more expensive brand whose

  stockists include Dickson and Tiso, both of Edinburgh, and various other

  country-wear specialists.

  'Judging by what I've seen so far, I'd say that the same people did this,

  and going by the tyre tracks, I'd say that they used the same two vehicles.'

  'Two?'

  'Oh yes, sir. That volume offish, and water, takes some shifting.'

  'Is there any chance of you being able to follow the vehicles to their

  destination by following the mud on their tracks?' asked Jack McGurk.

  Dorward eyed the tall sergeant up and down, then looked at Pringle, as

  if over the top of imaginary spectacles.

  'Who is this, Dan?' he murmured. 'Your faithful Redskin companion?'

  He turned back to McGurk. 'If you look up,' he said, 'you will see dark

  clouds; you should see them okay, since you're a lot closer to them than I

  am. It's going to rain, any minute now, and the forecast is that it will spread

  to all parts by mid-afternoon. On top of that, the track through those woods

  leads to a minor road which leads very shortly thereafter to a trunk road,

  which in turn has had traffic pounding up and down it all night.

  'I can take a sample of mud here, and if you find these vehicles I'll

  probably be able to prove for you that they were here. That's bloody clever

  as it is, lad; I draw the line at the impossible.'

  The red-haired inspector turned, and went back to his white-coated team.

  Pringle grinned up at his aide. 'Nice one, Tonto,' he chuckled. 'Now here's

  what you will do. Everyone's come up kosher at Mellerkirk so far, but the

  possibility remains that it was an inside job. If this was an inside job as

  well, then with the same thieves involved there is a chance that it's a

  conspiracy.

  'So I want you to have our people check into all the staff at the two

  farms, to see if there's any connection between any of them. But if it's

  anyone, I fancy the managers. Gates just happened to be off watch last

  weekend and Symonds says he had what turned out to be a hoax phone

  call.'

  i.But we can verify that he had a call, sir.'

  'Can you verify that he wasn't expecting it? I tell you, Jack, the team

  that's doing it either has inside info, or it's done its homework bloody well,

  to know about Symonds' father being a piss artist. The lad Gates and big

  Lurch, there; I want them watched.'

  'I'll get people on to it, sir.'

  The superintendent scowled again, and tugged at his moustache. 'One

  thing does seem bloody clear, though, Sergeant. These people must have

  an outlet, somewhere. They stole three tons last weekend; now another

  four. There's no way they're going to stockpile seven tons of frozen trout.

  'They've found a buyer for the first lot already; it's the only explanation.

  And if they can shift this lot quickly as well. . .'

  'They'll be on the lookout for more.'

  'Exactly, son. So it's up to us to be waiting for them if they do. And if

  there is someone on the inside, th
at could be bloody difficult.'