Autographs in the Rain

by Quintin Jardine

  'Okay, now I repeat my earlier question. Did you have any knowledge

  that your farm was going to be robbed?'

  194

  'No, I did not. I swear it.'

  'Did you mention to anyone that the police were insisting that you install

  security equipment?'

  'No. Why should I?'

  'Do I have to spell that out?'

  'If you do, Superintendent,' said the young solicitor, a little braver now,

  'I shall have to insist that the rest of this interview takes place under caution.'

  'Okay,' Pringle conceded. 'If she did set the place up to be robbed she's

  no' going to admit it, caution or not.

  'I'll rephrase it then. Did you mention to anyone, however innocently,

  that you were considering installing a system?'

  'I told my bank manager's secretary that that was what I wanted to see

  him about.'

  'Do you know if Miss Adey spoke with anyone, after Mr Martin's visit

  on Monday?'

  'She might have, but only by telephone; she never leave the farm after

  that. I guess she spoke to the video man.'

  'What video man?'

  'A salesman who came see us a few months ago. He left us information

  then, and a card. I told Kate to phone him.'

  'Was his name Anders?' asked McGurk.

  'Yes, I think that was it.'

  Pringle looked at the sergeant, enquiring. 'I found a leaflet and a card by

  the phone in the cottage,' he explained. 'There was an entry in Miss Adey's

  diary, too; she had an appointment with Raymond Anders, of Eildon

  Security, at four this afternoon on the farm.'

  The superintendent drew McGurk into a corner. 'Let's find out whether

  he kept it,' he whispered. 'Let's find out too, but very quietly, whether he

  paid any unsuccessful sales visits to the other two farms.' The tall detective

  nodded and left the room.

  'Just one other thing, Ms Alvarez,' Pringle continued, 'for now at any

  rate. Where were you all day today, when we were trying to contact you?'

  T was with my boyfriend,' she said, hesitantly. 'His name is Glenn Lander.

  He had a dinner party last night; I stayed over and all day. Four of us: his

  cousin from England was there, with her husband. He's a policeman; an

  important policeman, I think. His name is Ted ... Ted Chase.'

  57

  'There's nowhere else to go, sir,' said Stevie Steele, his frustration written

  all pver his face. 'This bloke exists, all right, this man calling himself John

  Steed, but I'm no closer to him now than I was at the start.

  T took the best still print from the Balmoral video that the techies could

  provide for me and showed it to the woman in Newcastle, but she said that

  she couldn't have identified her own son from the view it showed.

  'She said that the guy's hat in the print looked similar to the one her

  customer wore, but let's face it... a black hat's a black hat.'

  'Aye. I've got one myself.' Andy Martin sighed. 'That's the second time

  in quick succession that I've been let down by a video tape. Give a copy of

  the print to Mcllhenney; maybe Louise Bankier or her secretary will spot something in it.

  'Apart from that, there's only one other thing you can do, and that's

  pursue the possibility that this lad really is called John Steed, and that his

  message was badly worded but otherwise innocent.'

  'I'm doing that already, sir,' Steele replied. 'The police on Tyneside

  have reported back to me already; they've turned up three John Steeds;

  one's in jail, another's in his eighties and the third is a hemiplegic.

  'I even asked them to check on people named John Stead, just in case

  the man might have mis-typed his own surname when he sent the message.

  No joy there either. I'm waiting for other forces to report back; I've asked

  for traces as far south as Middlesbrough, and also in London and in our

  own area, where the two incidents have occurred.'

  'Fair enough,' said Bob Skinner, turning away from the window of the

  Head of CID's office. 'It all has to be done, but you'll get nothing from it.

  Big Neil's first instinct was right; the name's a phoney, part of the message

  itself. We'll trace Mr Steed when he has another go at Louise, and not

  before.'

  'And he'll find that difficult while she's under surveillance,' Martin

  suggested.

  196

  AUTOGRAPHS IN THE RAIN

  'Agreed, but next week, Lou starts location work on her movie; that's

  when she'll be vulnerable. We can protect her, and we will, by blocking off

  the streets where they're filming; she'll have a dressing room trailer too,

  but she'll still be an open target to an extent.'

  'What about the crew, sir?' asked Steele. 'Are they being checked out?'

  'Of course they are, sergeant,' said the DCC, testily. 'DI Mcllhenney's

  getting a list this morning from Judd, the producer; everyone on the team

  from Elliott Silver, the director, right up to the tea-boy. He'll run a PNC

  check straight away . . .' He sighed. '. . . and come up with fuck all too,

  apart from a couple of pot-smokers.'

  'What about Judd himself?'

  Skinner frowned at Martin's question. 'He was the first one Neil checked.

  He and Louise lived together for a while a few years back; they talked

  about getting married, but she decided that she'd had enough of that game.

  Judd didn't like it, they had a major argument, and they split up, but not

  before he thumped her.

  'She almost turned this movie down because of Mr Judd, but she liked

  the part, her agent pressed her and finally, he apologised. So she agreed.

  'Do not worry, Andy. His was the first name out of the hat when this all

  blew up. He was even in the hotel on the day that smoke bomb was planted

  in Lou's room. But he is not the man in the hotel video and he was not John

  Steed in Newcastle. The physical descriptions just don't match up; the guy

  in the black hat is slim, and Judd's a wee bull of a fellow.

  'On top of that, from the moment that he arrived at the Balmoral, all the

  way through their tour of Edinburgh, during their meeting afterwards, and

  right up to the moment he left, Lou swears that he was never out of her

  sight, and that Silver was with them the whole time too.'

  The big DCC scowled. 'I'd love it to be Judd. It'd give me a chance to

  teach him not to knock women around. But it isn't.' He looked at Steele.

  'So that's where we are, young Stevie; waiting for the stalker to pull another

  stunt. I hope he does too; I don't want him just to fade away. I want him

  caught.

  'Now, will you excuse us, please. I have to talk to Mr Martin about

  something unconnected with this.'

  'Of course, sir, I'll find DI Mcllhenney and give him that print.'

  As the door closed behind him, Martin looked at Skinner. 'Well?' he

  asked.

  'Yes.' A grin spread across his face. 'I've spoken to him, interviewed

  him even, with the Chief Constable present. Mr Chase and his lovely wife

  Estelle were indeed entertained by Mrs Chase's cousin on Wednesday night.

  They dined on fish soup prepared by Ms Alvarez, braised venison prepared

  by Mr Lander, and praline ice cream prepared by Haagen-Dazs.

  'The Assistant Chief Constable having consumed no
alcohol all evening,

  he and his good lady began the drive back to Edinburgh at 12.45 a.m.,

  leaving the young lovers slightly the worse for the third bottle of Paternina

  Banda Azul rioja tinto, and about to retire for the night.

  'We left him pondering the possibility of being subjected to aggressive

  cross-examination by a hungry Advocate Depute.' ''

  "'That was nice of you,' laughed the Head of CID. 'It won't come to that,

  though. Dan phoned me a while back; Raymond Anders, of Eildon Security,

  who failed to turn up for his four o'clock appointment with Kath Adey

  yesterday, has also visited the Mellerkirk and Howdengate trout farms in

  unsuccessful attempts to sell them video surveillance and alarm systems.

  'Every copper in the Borders is looking for him, but he's disappeared.

  Dan's about to issue a press statement with a description, and an appeal for

  public support in tracing him.

  'Looks like he could be our man.'

  198

  58

  L

  'Just like Rockefeller Plaza.' Louise Bankier looked along the ice rink,

  thronged with circling figures on silver skates, some steady and assured,

  others much less so. 'They do this every Christmas time?'

  'Yes,' Neil replied. 'Skating in Princes Street Gardens; it's a tradition

  already, even though they've only been doing it for a few years. Nice though,

  especially on a day like this.' He leaned forward on the green park bench,

  tightening the laces of his left boot. The morning was crisp and cold, the

  ice hard and inviting.

  Spencer and Lauren leaned on the fence at the entrance to the rink,

  waiting, watching as their father checked the fastenings on the shiny new

  boots which Glenys Algodon had acquired for Louise the day before.

  No one took any notice of them as they readied themselves to take to

  the ice. The actress wore tight black trousers and a heavy parka with a

  fur-trimmed hood so enveloping that it hid her face as effectively as a

  mask.

  'Okay,' he said, as she leaned her weight on his outstretched left arm.

  'Away you go, then.' She pushed herself away and set off, deliberately and

  carefully, after the children who were circling and pirouetting with fearless

  confidence. At the very first turn, her legs went from under her; she fell,

  with a bump. Lauren gasped, Spencer laughed, then Neil was beside her,

  helping her to her feet.

  'Here,' he chuckled, 'I thought you said you could do this. I'm supposed

  to be looking after you; if you turn up for filming on crutches next week I'll

  be back on the beat.'

  T can skate,' she insisted, with mock indignation. 'I'm just out of practice,

  that's all.'

  He steadied her, his strong hands on her waist. 'Get away with you, lady,

  it's like riding a bike. You never forget.'

  'Okay, so let me go and I'll show you.' He released her and she set off

  once more, slowly, but more steadily this time. He skated easily alongside

  AUTOGRAPHS IN THE RAIN

  her, watching her closely until finally she gathered confidence and began

  to move more easily.

  'You're quite good,' she told him, when she felt able to speak.

  'For a flat-footed copper, you mean?'

  Her laugh had a breathless edge. 'If you say so.'

  'I played ice hockey when I was a kid,' he replied, evenly. 'After I chucked

  it, I didn't skate for a while, during my porker years, but then I started

  roller-blading with those two, and it seemed natural to take them on to the

  ice and show them the real thing.'

  They're really good.'

  'Ah, but so am I.'

  'Show me.'

  'Nah. Too many people on the ice; plus, I don't want to draw attention to

  us.'

  She saw him glancing around. 'You're always watching, aren't

  you?'

  'Always.' At that moment, an unsteady skater, a young man, veered in

  their direction. Neil swung smoothly round, putting his body between the

  approaching figure and Louise, then catching him, steadying him and

  sending him gently on his way.

  They skated on for around twenty minutes, Lauren and Spencer weaving

  patterns around them, until finally she called, 'Enough!'

  They left the children to their ice ballet and skated off the rink, reclaiming

  their shoes from the kiosk and changing into them on their bench. That

  done, they leaned against the fence, watching the action on the ice, wincing

  as the occasional beginner came to grief.

  'Hey,' she asked, glancing at him from the depths of her hood, 'what did

  you mean, earlier ... your porker years?'

  He smiled, with a touch of shyness. 'I used to be a far bigger boy than I

  am now. Olive used to go on at me about my weight. My father died of a

  heart attack at Spence's christening and she was always worried that the

  same might happen to me.

  'I just laughed it off; I was big, sure, but I wasn't that unfit. I could

  still chase the bad guys. And, like everyone else, I had this notion that I

  was immortal, that the two of us were. Then Olive fell ill, and we knew

  that we weren't.

  'I didn't entertain the idea that she would die; right up to the very last

  second in that wee side ward, I didn't believe that she would. But the mere

  thought that she could, that was enough.

  'One of my nightmares is that anything might happen to me while those

  two are still kids, while they still need me. So I do everything I can to make

  sure it doesn't. I'm thirty pounds lighter than I was back then. I go to the

  gym, run a bit, and play football with the boss's crowd once a week. I drink

  very little alcohol any more, and I'm careful about what I eat.

  'Plus I have a job that takes me out of the line of fire.'

  She looked at him, surprised. 'Then what are you doing with me?'

  He scratched his chin. 'That's a good question. I asked it of myself and

  I asked it of Olive ... I talk to her a lot, you know; all the time, in fact. The

  answer is that I'm doing what she would want me to do.' He gave her a

  confessional smile. 'She likes you, you know.'

  'I'm honoured,' Louise whispered, sincerely.

  'So?' he asked her, suddenly, ending that moment. 'Warren Judd?'

  'My last big mistake,' she sa'id. 'And he will be. I thought I knew

  everything there was to know about men; I thought I was always in control.

  I thought that he was safe, but he was anything but.

  'I made it clear ... or I thought I had . . . that I wasn't interested in

  marrying again. I believe I'm jinxed in that department. But Warren started

  on about it, and he wouldn't let go. I told him to forget it, but he kept

  bringing it up.

  'Finally, we had a big argument and I told him to get out of my house

  and out of my life. He did . . .' Her voice dropped to a whisper, '. . . but

  before he did, he beat me up, and he raped me.'

  When she was able to look at him again, she saw him as she had never

  seen him before. His face was dark with anger. 'The little bastard,' he

  growled.

  She laid a hand on his arm. 'No, Neil, no. It's in the past; let it stay there.

  I've dealt with it, and with him. He crawled to get me to do this movie; I