by V Clifford
Viv said, ‘I bet there are already a few selfies online.’
‘Well, it’s your job to prevent that. So get started.’
‘I need caffeine.’
Ruddy said, ‘Mac, show her where to get supplies, and she’ll need signing in. Then start to check out the rumblings of Edinburgh’s business establishment and see if there are connections between them and your missing person. Too many eight-pointed crosses involved in this already.’
Mac screwed up his eyes.
Viv said, ‘Is that what he’s gripping in his hand?’
Mac took the photograph again, ‘Okay. What is it that he’s holding? I can only see a tiny edge of it.’
Ruddy took out a clear plastic evidence bag from his jacket pocket. ‘This.’ He handed the bag to Mac.
Viv said, ‘God, there must have been a job lot.’
Mac stood up and stared at the same eight-pointed cross inside the bag. ‘And we’re off!’ His phone vibrated as he went towards the door. He checked the screen and furrowed his brow. ‘What the actual?’
Ruddy said, ‘No calls. In fact, could you turn your mobiles off and I don’t just mean silent, then leave them at reception.’
Mac stared at him in disbelief then turned to Viv and shrugged.
Ruddy said, ‘The fewer people who can trace your whereabouts the better.’
Viv threw her phone to Mac who caught it and said, ‘Back in a bit. I’ll get those forms for you to sign.’
Being asked to give up their phones meant that Ruddy was worried about them being traced to Command Control, or HQ1 as it was often referred to. What on earth was going on? She settled down at the table with the laptop and began to scroll.
Mac returned and looked over her shoulder. He laid a form on the table beside her.
‘I hope you’re not planning on standing there for long?’
He pulled up a chair. ‘Right. So we know that Edinburgh doesn’t actually have a cardinal, in fact Scotland doesn’t have one any more.’
‘No. The brotherhood are too busy fiddling with choirboys to do their actual job. Although I’m sure they convince themselves that since their job is the cure of souls that all sorts of behaviours are justified. Bastards.’
‘No. What I mean is if a visit from a cardinal from Rome was happening I’d have heard about it. Or likewise if someone Scottish had been made a cardinal we’d all have heard about it.’
‘How come? You’re not exactly devout.’
‘No, but my mum wouldn’t let that kind of nugget pass us by. She’d have been preparing for his arrival since the announcement and bending our ears about the gift of the Holy Father etc etc. Not to mention bleating at us about not being seen at mass.’
‘But your mum doesn’t go to the cathedral.’
He snorted. ‘You’ve no idea how important it is for Catholics to have a cardinal in their midst. He’s only one step down from the Pope. So in my mum’s eyes he’s just short of God. Besides it would have been all over The Tablet. It would be a huge deal.’
‘Okay, okay I get it. So what are you saying? Are you saying he’s here unofficially, or maybe he’s just a geezer in fancy dress.’
A look passed over Mac’s face. He leapt up and went back to the table but Ruddy was already stashing the photographs into an envelope.
‘Can I check something?’
Ruddy handed over the envelope. ‘Bring them to my office when you’re done with them but they don’t leave the building in any form.’ He shot a don’t-even-think-about-it look at Viv. She grinned back.
‘I mean it. They are sensitive.’
Mac stared at the print of the body on the floor. ‘I think Viv has something.’
Ruddy stopped on his way out. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean if we could get more detail on this robe we’d be able to tell if it’s real or not.’
Viv strolled over to where they were both leaning over the table staring at the photograph of the man lying on the marble floor. She pointed. ‘Check out those buttons. Plastic by the way. You think reps of the Holy Father are wearing plastic buttons?’ This must have been what she’d picked up as odd.
They both stared at her. Mac said, ‘How come in any world would you notice that?’
‘If something is tailored it would have covered buttons.’ They continued to look at her blankly. ‘It’s no secret how pedantic the Vatican are about their clothes. People have written PhDs on it, “Spiritual Cross Dressing in the Church” was a particular favourite of mine. Cardinals wear the haute couture of the religious world: silk stockings, brocade capes, fabulous hats not to mention the jewellery. They are not wearing cheap Poundland buttons, they are wearing top-drawer kit and those buttons,’ she stabbed a finger at the image, ‘are not.’
Ruddy scratched his head. ‘Okay. So what does that mean for us?’
Viv said, ‘I’m guessing we’ve got someone dressed up as a cardinal and someone has killed him either thinking he was a real one or because he was kidding on that he was one. Either way he’s got to be an imposter. Unless he’s got a cheap and cheerful robe for travelling.’
Mac shook his head. ‘It’s even more important to the Church that people see how grand they are when they travel. The other thing is where is his entourage? No self-respecting cardinal travels alone, which makes the idea of an imposter more convincing.’
Ruddy nodded and rotated his shoulders. ‘An imposter would make our life easier.’ He let go of a breath and headed out the doors. ‘Carry on checking that laptop, though. We’ve still got a corpse on our hands.’
Viv whispered to Mac, ‘By the way, what was that face for when you got the text earlier?’
‘God knows. I’ll follow it up when we get out of here. How long do you think you’ll need on that?’ He nodded at the laptop.
‘No idea. Depends how juicy it gets.’
‘You are incorrigible. I’ll come back in a couple of hours.’
She interrupted him, ‘What about my coffee?’ She mimed hanging herself. ‘If I don’t get caffeine soon God knows what’ll happen.’
‘I’ll bring you some.’
‘I need chocolate as well.’
‘Demanding or what? I’ll see what I can do.’
To his credit he returned within minutes with coffee and Twixes. ‘All I could find.’
‘Perfect. Ta. See you later.’
Before he was out of the door she had her head down, trawling through an email correspondence. The email address belonged to ‘Judas Iscariot’. Someone in the Church had a sense of humour.
The laptop was relatively new, with only a month of search history to look through. It was enough, though, to give up a few telling links. Grindr and Fierce and Foxy were the two that featured most. So was it likely that the user was a gay gambler? Not a great combo in the life of a priest but probably more common than people thought. She started on the Grindr account. Nothing untoward that she could see, more a voyeur than participant. Fierce and Foxy on the other hand had been blocked. He’d reached his spending limit and been desperately trying to get back in. His attempts were into double figures. Poor sod. The place she’d find most info was social media assuming he’d had accounts. Would she find a Facebook account for Judas Iscariot? Only one way to find out. She glanced round the room, everyone busy. She downloaded what she needed to continue work at home then went in search of Mac.
‘Are we still going to take a look at David’s flat? I’ve had enough of being underground.’
‘Okay. A quick scan. See what the flat has to offer.’
They pulled up in Grosvenor Crescent, a beautiful early Victorian sweep of town houses now mostly divided into flats. Mature private gardens set them apart from another Crescent mirroring them on the opposite side. Within easy walking distance of the West End and the financial district off Lothian Road it was now populated by white-collar execs, immaculate four by fours not exactly testimony to their offroad predilections. They circled but couldn’t get legally parked s
o dumped the Rav on a yellow line. Worth the risk, since they were both fatigued from lack of daylight. David’s flat was nothing like Sholto’s mews. A large sitting room still had its original cornicing but was otherwise modernised to within an inch of its life. Clean lines, white walls and charcoal accessories with a wall of bookshelves, mainly with titles on the law although he obviously had a penchant for thrillers since there was a whole section dedicated to them. She smiled at these since they were what relieved the room of complete austerity. There was a faint smell of cleaning fluid but she discovered that it was coming from a loo that had recently been doused with some sort of mock pine concoction. Apart from that there was little to see. No computer, not many clothes in the closet or drawers. He wasn’t spending much time here. The mews was probably where they were living and David’s place had become an annexe or place to store what he wasn’t using.
‘I wonder if the person you chased earlier had keys for here?’
Mac took out the set that had been left in the door of Sholto’s place and tested them on the front door. ‘Yes. So maybe the guy does come in and clean for both of them.’
‘They ought to tell him to stop using that poison that he’s putting into the water system. It reeks.’
Mac shook his head. ‘I’m not getting a sense that David is spending nights here. I mean check that bed.’
She slipped into the bedroom. ‘I can see what you mean. But he does live more simply than Sholto ever could. I mean there’s nothing in here that shouts “old money”. But you’re right everything here, and you’ve got to admit there’s not much, doesn’t seem to be getting used.’
An en suite shower room had had the same pine treatment as the other loo off the hallway. ‘I’m thinking that the mews is where they hang out and this has become unloved. There’s not even a TV. Who doesn’t have a telly?’
‘Tons of people don’t have TVs now. They watch everything on an iPad or iPhone. Keep up, Viv. I bet you watch more on Netflix . . .’
‘Actually I do use it but I’m more of a news junkie and I need a telly for that. Unless I want real news, then I have sources.’ She smirked. He wanted to know this kind of stuff but wasn’t officially meant to know it.
He sat on a dark grey tweed sofa that faced the window to the back of the flat. ‘Not much of a view. I wonder if he did once have a TV over there.’ He pointed. ‘Makes sense of having the sofa in this position.’
‘Hard to get any sense of him as a man in his own right. I got them as a couple earlier but here there’s not much personality coming through. I wonder what his office is like? There’s nothing to say he worked from home. Even a laptop needs cables. That desk should have clutter. It’s too clean.’ She pulled out the only drawer. ‘I think he’s moved out. This place is probably being kept as back-up. That’s what I’d do.’
‘Of course you would. Can’t imagine you completely committing to anyone.’
She sighed, ‘Just haven’t found the right person.’
‘Sure. As if there is such a thing.’ He stood with his hands on his hips surveying the sitting room again. ‘It’s a nice place. Probably worth a bob or two. I think I like this guy.’
‘Funny you should say that. I get that feeling too. But I’ll let you know once I’ve had a better look at his personal stuff.’
‘What, you want to go back to the mews?’
‘No. I’ll poke about online. Are we done here?’
‘I think so. Did you check the en suite for a cupboard?’
‘Yes. Zip. Not even an emergency razor.’
‘Fair enough. Let’s head.’
Chapter Thirteen
They drove back to Fettes. Mac took a terse call on the way. Both exhausted by looking at computer screens and the absence of natural light had killed off their energy. David’s place had done nothing to raise their hopes.
As they pulled into the car park Viv said, ‘Well, are you going to tell me or not?’
Mac knitted his brows. ‘What are you on about?’
She could tell from his tone that he knew exactly what she was on about but was trying to avoid telling her.
‘You know I’ll bug you until you tell me. It’s not as if you don’t wear your emotions on your sleeve. In fact you wear them all over when it’s something big so spill the beans.’
He sighed, as if weighing up the consequences of letting her in on whatever was troubling him. If it was to do with work, he’d have no issue keeping it to himself. Her guess was that it was personal.
‘If I tell you you’ve got to keep it to yourself.’
She crossed her heart. ‘Guide’s honour.’
He snorted. ‘Not exactly the model Girl Guide, were you?’
‘I’ll have you know I’ve even got my toymaker badge. Okay, so it was just to keep me quiet but I’ve still got it somewhere.’
‘You were supposed to sew it onto your uniform. That’s what I mean about you not being ideal.’
‘Sure. But if you think that all this talk about Girl Guides is going to get you off the hook then you’re sadly mistaken. Come on, get it off your chest. You know you want to.’ She play-punched his arm.
He glanced at her. ‘Remember Fiona?’
It had been a while since Mac had entertained a woman friend and Fiona, if she had the correct woman, had been a control freak of the highest order. ‘Are you talking about Mrs Squeaks when she walks she’s so anal?’
He snorted. ‘She wasn’t that bad. But yes. She’s had a child.’
Viv spun round in her seat. ‘No way! And she’s claiming . . . ‘
He nodded. ‘She wouldn’t have told me but the boy is in need of a donor.’
‘Oh my God. Are you sure it’s yours?’
‘How could I know that? She says that I was the only one it could have been.’
‘And you believe her?’
He shrugged. ‘Even if he isn’t mine, if I could help with a donation, I’d still want to do it.’
‘Honourable or what?’
‘But it does throw a rather large and heavy spanner in my works if he is mine. I can’t even begin to think about what happens next. She’s desperate, though, so I’ve got to do something.’
‘Well well, daddy Marcus.’
It was his turn to return the play-punch. ‘Don’t laugh. It’s not funny. Can you imagine what my mum will say? There are all sorts of implications.’
They sat in Mac’s allocated space and he rubbed his face with both hands. ‘Holy shit.’
‘Abso-fucking-lutely. Just when you think life is going all peachy for you the Holy Father strikes and you’re doing the school run, the maths homework, and you’re having daily contact with a woman that you sighed with relief at the prospect of never seeing again. Best make sure he is yours before you start with the parenting malarkey.’
‘God, Viv, you’re all heart. Fiona’s really struggling, otherwise she’d never have made contact.’
‘And that would be my other point. Do you really want to be involved with someone who would have kept the fact that you’d become a father a secret?’
‘You know, for an intelligent woman you sometimes say the most ridiculous things. I wouldn’t have known, would I.’
‘Well, not until she needed you for something else. What does she want you to donate?’
‘I’m not sure yet. Could be bone marrow. I’m going to meet her now.’
Mac stepped out of the car and walked round to her window.
She said, ‘Are you coming back to Doune tonight or are you staying in town?’
‘I haven’t decided. I’ve got food in Doune but nothing in the flat here. Least of my worries, don’t you think?’
‘Don’t, you sound like one of my ex-clients. Ring me if you are coming to Doune. I’m dying to get back to see Moll. Take care Mac, you’re a soft touch.’
Chapter Fourteen
When she drove over the humpback bridge and entered through the gates to the estate she felt her heartbeat slow and her shoulders
release. She’d never have believed that she could relax in the countryside but the thought of a long walk with the dog certainly did it for her. She’d phoned ahead and asked Brian if he could drop Mollie off, so she was expecting a warm welcome. She heard her barking as soon as she got out of the car and felt an unusual sensation on her face as she grinned a proper heartfelt grin.
Mollie bolted out of the door and ran round her legs desperate to jump up but resisting with all that she had. Viv knelt down and snuggled into her neck. The smell of dog was so reassuring. She dumped her rucksack then clipped a lead onto Mollie’s collar. With the sound of the river burbling she drew in a long breath of clean country air and watched Mollie in pursuit of invisible foes, her nose never lifting off the bank. Viv recalled the photographs of the dead man lying on the cathedral floor. Who dresses up as a cardinal and why? Fun? Fraud? Revenge? Money? Love? Requited? Unrequited? That left lots of options open but she mustn’t forget the eight-pointed cross in his hand. Surely that was a blatant message if ever there was one. They weren’t dealing with anyone too sophisticated.
She walked as far as the chapel then took a route back through the woods. An earthy smell of damp rotting wood underfoot reminded her of the many conversations she’d had with Sal who was a huge fan of getting her hands into the earth or walking on grass in her bare feet. Viv hadn’t got the hang of any of that, in fact she’d thought Sal slightly unhinged when she’d tried to get Viv to do the same. Viv was a strictly shoes-on kind of woman. Any notion of wandering around out of doors in bare feet was for muesli-belters. Who knew what could be lurking down there? She breached the edge of the wood, took in the view of Ben Ledi, and let go of a huge breath. Now that was something worth experiencing.
