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And I said, "For what, Mum?" And she said, "For tel ing me. I loved your father." And that was the last thing my mother ever said to me.

'Oh, how I hated him then; far more than ever before. The fact is, I don't think I real y did hate him until that moment; not even when he was doing al those things, because he was my father and I didn't know any different and I didn't understand, until someone at school said something and it al rushed in on me.

'What it al comes down to is this. What I said back there was only partly true. I joined the police because of my father, but not just because of him. I joined because I wanted to change the culture I grew up in, the notion that even in the direst circumstances, the police are somehow the enemy of the working class. I wanted to be an accessible copper, to be the sort that people would rush up to in the street.'

She frowned, a deep dark frown, which pained him for her. 'Yet somewhere along the line I lost that; I became a control freak, an authoritarian, the sort of copper kids run away from in the street. And now, my junior colleagues see me as some, sort of dragon, and maybe, that's what I am.'

He waited, until he was sure that she had finished, that she had drained whatever well had overflowed inside her and brought her to spill out the deepest, darkest truths that she had withheld even from him, until that moment.

'Why haven't you told me al this before?' he asked her quietly, when it was time.

'I suppose I've been afraid you'd look at me in a different light. Now you know why I'm ambivalent about the kids thing. The truth is, there are times when I'm positively glad we can't have any.'

'Why? Because you'd be afraid to trust me with our daughters?'

He put the question gently, yet still her hand flew to her mouth in horror. 'No! Not for a second! No, it's because of me. I never had a proper, natural relationship with my mother; I'm plain scared that I wouldn't know how to begin to build one myself.'

He shook his dark head. 'Of course you would. I'l tell you something else; you're no bloody dragon either. You're a good, a better than good copper.'

'You might not say that if you'd seen a thing that happened this morning.'

'What was that?'

'Something very simple, but I can't get it out of my head. A young probationer came into my office, and he was shaking. The boy was scared, Mario, of me, and that's not right.'

'Course it is,' he laughed, making light of it. 'The traditional function of the probationer is to crap themselves when going into the super's office.' She did not return his smile.

'Look, Mags,' he told her. 'You have to believe this. You are an exceptional, dedicated police officer; Bob Skinner picked you out as that, and shot you up the ladder because of it, and that's all the 30

commendation you need. If you joined the force to be cuddly and nice, you were fooling yourself, for we can't be like that, especially not in CID. You are what you should be, and you are where you should be.

Whether it's in spite of your background or because of it doesn't matter any more than a single bean in my rapidly cooling soup.'

He grinned at her as he picked up his spoon, and this time, she smiled back, weakly.

'This birthday card your sister received; did she say where it was posted?'

'London.'

'And it arrived out of the blue?'

'Yes.'

'Did he put an address on it?'

'No. What concerns me is how he found out where she is.'

'The Internet, maybe,' Mario suggested. 'She has a website, doesn't she, with her design business, and she has an unusual name. That would do it.'

'Maybe. Anyway, she's scared and she wrote to me to warn me.'

'And are you worried?'

She snorted. The? Just let him come near me.' She stopped. 'Now, please; I've told you; can we talk about something else, at least till we get home.'

Mario nodded. 'Sure What did that lad want this morning anyway?'

'Nothing. He brought me Manny English's night-shift reports, that was all.'

'What the hell for?'

'You know Manny. He was away, and he's so bloody rank-conscious that only the next senior officer would do to check them over.'

'A load of crap, were they?'

'Yup. There was a funny one where someone had died in a doctor's surgery, but that was all.'

'Death happens, wherever. There more than in most places, I guess.'

'Yes, but not . . . Ach, let's forget it. Enough shop. Have you had many "well done" calls since the press notice went out?'

Mario nodded. 'A few . . . and one that took my breath away. My Uncle Beppe phoned me. He and my mother want to have a family party to celebrate.'

'Jesus. Your godfather cal ed you? What did you say?'

'What could I say? I said okay. I had to; my mum and my nana might have been upset otherwise.'

'Am I invited?'

'Course you are.'

'Wil I have to learn Italian songs and dances and such?'

'Hardly,' he laughed. 'However he acts, my Uncle Beppe was born in Newhaven, not Napoli.'

32

8

This time, Sarah was awake when the phone rang. 'How're you doing?'

he asked.

'Better,' she answered, not because she was, but because it was what he wanted to hear. In reality she felt cold and shivery, slightly out of touch with the planet. The initial shock had worn off, to be replaced by a stunned disbelief that what had happened actually involved her, and a feeling that instead she was a spectator looking in on someone else's nightmare.

'That's good,' said Bob, knowing that she was putting on a front, but going along with it. 'You were zonked when I called earlier. Lou said you'd taken a couple of pil s.'

'Yes, on top of a couple of brandies; not such a good idea.'

'It was if it did the job.' He hesitated, and background noise flooded into her ear. 'My love, I'm so sorry,' he blurted out. 'I wish I was there with you. Maybe that's where I should be. I'm at KL airport, but I haven't picked up my tickets for the States yet. If you want, I'll cancel them and come home instead. I sort of went off at half-cock earlier, when Andy cal ed and told me what had happened.'

'No,' she said, quickly, almost sharply. 'You go to New York. I might want you here, but I need you there. I'll come over as soon as I can, once I've had a chance to make arrangements for the kids. Meantime, please, you take care of everything that needs doing . . . and make damn sure that the police throw everything into the investigation.'

A quiet chuckle sounded down the line. 'Hey, this isn't just someone else's force, it's someone else's country. I'll need to tread softly there.'

'You don't know how to do that,' she exclaimed. 'I mean it, Bob; keep them on their toes.'

'I'll do what I can,' he promised. 'Do you know this man Dekker?'

'The county sheriff? No, I don't; I've heard my dad mention his name, though. He's been around for a while; he's an elected official and he's part of the civic furniture in Buffalo.'

'Is he a talker or a doer?'

'You'l have to make up your own mind on that one.'

'I wil , don't worry. I'l see him soon enough.'

'What time is it with you?'

'Around three a.m. It'l be the middle of yesterday afternoon in New York right now, so I should get there early this morning ... I reckon.'

'What time does your body think it is?'

She heard him chuckle again. 'My body doesn't have a bloody clue, love. I just have this strange feeling that when I get to the States I'll be a day younger.'

'Lucky you!' she muttered, instinctively, unable to keep the bitterness at bay. 'I feel about ten years older.'

'Hey, I'm sorry. Look, it's still not too late. Shouldn't I come home first?'

'How many times do I have to say it?' Her voice rose; he had never heard her sound so strained, not even at the worst of times in their marriage. He knew how tough she was, but he understood that this had to be the worst day of her life.

'Okay, okay. I'l go straight there. I'l cal you again from Buffalo.'

'Is that where you're going first?'

'No. I've asked to be taken straight to the crime scene. They'l fly me from place to place. My US geography's crap, but as I understand it the Adirondacks are a couple of hundred miles east of the city.'

'Then call me from the cabin.' She sounded calmer, and he sensed her need to be involved.

'If that's what you want.'

'It is. Where are you planning to stay in Buffalo?'

He paused. 'I haven't given that any thought. I suppose I'l check into a hotel.'

'No. I want you to stay in my folks' house. Get it ready for me. I'l be over as soon as I can. I'l arrange for Trish to live in, and ask Lou, or Karen Martin, to look in every so often, just to see that the kids aren't giving her too much trouble. I can't just sit on my ass here; it'd drive me crazy.'

'Are you alone now?'

'No. Lou's here; the men have gone, but she's going to stay over tonight. With her having lost her dad last month, we're sort of good for each other.'

'Sure. Just watch the brandy, the pair of you. Alcohol's a depressant.'

'But like you said, it also helps you sleep. Don't you worry about your Remy Martin, though; we're not going to touch that.'

34

'That's good.'

'No. We plan an evening on the Martinis, American style.'

'What, as in wave the vermouth lightly over the gin?'

'No, that's too much. I'm going to make them my dad's way. He believed that the gin and the vermouth could be allowed in the same room, but only for a few moments, that's all.'

They lay in the dark, silent but awake. They had finished their celebration meal in a sombre mood, had come home and gone straight to bed. They had made love, intensely, passionately, as if each had something to prove to the other, only neither was sure what it was.

Maggie rubbed the flat of her hand over the ridged muscles of her husband's abdomen. 'Not bad,' she whispered, 'not bad.'

'Hard enough for you?'

She slid her hand down and held him. 'Not any more.'

'Give it time.'

She eased closer to him, her head in the crook of his arm. 'Isn't it good,' she said, suddenly. 'You don't have to cal me ma'am any more.'

'I wonder how long that'l last.'

'For good, I think. I reckon my only way up the ladder is to go for Manny English's job in a few years, when he chucks it... but I won't do that. I'm tied to CID; it's what I do best.'

'Don't be so inflexible,' he cautioned. 'You put down English, but we're all in the same job.'

'What? Would you leave CID?'

'I will if I have to. I don't feel tied to it at all. For example, I fancy commanding the city centre unit some day.'

'From what I hear, you'll have to shoot Brian Mackie if you do. He's next in line for that job, so they say.'

'Yeah, I know,' he conceded. 'But still, we're living in times of change, with Andy going to Tayside and Haggerty in from Glasgow.'

'Yes, that was a surprise.'

'Which?'

'Haggerty's appointment. Not Andy; I know exactly why he's gone to Tayside, and I know who put him there.'

'Who? The Chief?'

'No. Big Bob.'

'Why? So he can bring him back, eventual y, as his deputy?'

She laughed softly, almost in his ear. 'You surely have been locked 36

away in Special Branch for long enough; you're out of touch with the politics. No, the whisper is there's another plan being drawn up.'

'Such as?'

'We'l al know that when it happens. But don't underrate Andy Martin; he's his own man. He was never going to live all his life in Bob Skinner's shadow . .. any more than you were in mine.'

'I'm happy to be in your shadow, my love. The prince consort, that's how I've always seen myself; three paces behind, hands clasped behind back.'

'Bullshit.'

He gave a mock sigh. 'Aye, okay. Bul shit.'

The silence returned, but neither felt remotely like sleep. 'Your Uncle Beppe,' Maggie began, taking a guess at his thoughts. 'Why don't you get on with him?'

'Because he's a tit.'

'There's more to it than that.'

'Wel , okay,' he conceded. 'It's not that I don't get on with him; it's more the other way round. When I was a kid, my Papa Viareggio, my grandfather, and I were very close. I worshipped that old man, and he trusted me with his confidence, in a way he never did with my cousins Paula and Viola; they were that bit younger . . . and also, they were girls.

Beppe didn't like that; he had always disapproved of my mother marrying a non-Italian ... Catholic or not. .. even though my papa and my nana were both fine about it.

'When I was a wee boy, he called me a fucking half-breed once, in front of my papa. The old fellow carried this stick ... he didn't need it, it was just for effect. . . and he cracked Beppe right across the shoulders with it, whipped him as if he was a kid.

'That didn't help things, but the real problem was that Beppe was afraid of me. He was scared that Papa would leave me control of the family business, the cafes, the delicatessen chain, the properties, the lot.

He might have too, only he died, and in the will that he left Beppe was to be in control of the trust which is the legal owner of all the family businesses.'

'Yes,' said Maggie. 'I knew that. You told me, but why have things stil been cool between you, since Beppe is in charge?'

She felt his shoulder twitch in a slight shrug. 'I suppose it's to do with a clause in the wil . I try not to think about it, because I don't like it any more than Beppe does.'

'What clause? You never told me about that.'

'Like I said, I don't like it myself. You see, Beppe inherited control of the business all right, but it's not as simple as that. There are two trustees; him and my mother, but he has the casting vote. But when my mother dies, becomes incapacitated, or just plain decides to retire, the old man's wil says that I take her place. When Beppe dies, Paula, the older of my cousins, succeeds him, but control passes to my mother, and through her to me.'

She sat bolt upright. 'What!'

'Like I said, it's the evil day I try not to think about. I love the force, Mags; no way would I want to have to leave it.'