Thursday legends - Skinner 10 (7 page)

Martin
pointed to the camcorder. 'You played that back yet?'

'No
fear, sir,' said the Inspector. 'That quick look through the viewfinder was bad
enough; I've got no wish to see it blown up. I'll only watch that again if you
order me to.' He paused. 'Oh, by the way, there was nothing on the still
camera, other than pictures of wee boats sailing in the bay out there. I've
told the lab to print them anyway, but there'll be bugger all in them for us.'

Skinner
tapped the pile of papers on the desk. 'There may well turn out to be bugger
all in these too, but we'll still have to go through them.' He turned back to
Rose. 'This is something your old man could do, Mags. If Alec hung on to any of
his old SB contacts, Mario might recognise the names.

'Arthur,
you'd better go for a walk on the beach now. DC Ghosh, you're excused too. The
front-line officers are going to have to look at that video now.' Dorward and
his assistant looked at him gratefully and headed for the exit. For a moment,
Skinner thought about following them; instead he switched on the monitor,
picked up the camera, found the 'play' button and pressed it. Rose and Steele
crossed the room to stand between him and Martin.

For
around ten seconds a scrambled image appeared on the screen, until it turned to
black. Then gradually a picture appeared; Alec Smith, hanging, naked, from his hook.
His mouth was covered by the brown tape, but his eyes were blazing with fury.
Skinner used the remote to turn up the volume, and the room filled with the
sound of the trussed-up ex-detective cursing unintelligibly behind his gag.

'No
blood,' said Martin. 'The head wounds aren't there at this stage. So how the
hell did they get him up there?'

Suddenly,
out of shot, they heard a click, followed by a soft hiss, which mutated into a
husky roar. As they watched the look in Smith's eyes changed from belligerence
to terror, as the nozzle of a blowtorch appeared in shot.

'The
same person.' Rose's voice was almost matter-of-fact, but a slight tremor gave
away her horror. 'It's the same person holding both the camera and the
blowlamp.'

'Look
for shadows,' Martin whispered. 'Anything, any sign of anyone else coming into
shot.'

But
all they saw was a hand in a red rubber glove, with a long cuff, gripping the
roaring torch as it moved towards Smith. 'How tall do you think the person
holding the
...'
Steele began, but
his voice tailed into a gasp as the white flame seared against the helpless
man's penis. The twisting victim's eyes bulged, threatening to come out of
their sockets. His shouts became an awful, muffled scream. His back arched as
he tried to pull away from his torturer, but he had been hauled so high up on
his toes that he was completely helpless.

'Try
not to look at him,' Skinner barked, urgently. 'Look for the killer instead,
listen for him; any sights, any sounds that aren't Alec'

He
tried to follow his own instruction, but it was virtually impossible in the
face of the most awful horror movie any of them had ever seen. The blowlamp did
its work on the genitals, charring, scorching, blackening, then moved up to the
nipples, the heat melting Smith's chest hair. Finally, Skinner looked away as
the lance of flame aimed for the eyes. He tried to shut his ears against the
awful noise. There was a scrambling beside him, Stevie Steele heading for the
door, yet no other sound, only Smith's choking screams, rising to a crescendo,
then gradually, weakening and fading. Then the roar of the flame dying away,
replaced by another noise, a rending, tearing sound, and by one last muted howl
from the doomed man on the hook.

At
last, Andy Martin pressed the remote to switch off the monitor. 'My God,'
Maggie Rose whispered, over and over again, until a sob forced its way out.
Skinner leaned on the table, grasping it almost hard enough to splinter the
wood, staring once again at the empty screen, listening to the hum as the camcorder
continued to replay its tape.

'No
other officer is to see that recording,' he ordered. 'Chief Inspector, I want
you to take personal charge of it. Take it back to Haddington when next you go
there, and lock it in your safe.' He turned to look at her with a gleam in his
eyes that she would rather not have seen. Two people had; they were both dead.

'When
we arrest this beast, Maggie,' he said, grinding the words through his teeth,
'you'll have to interview him. But not alone; with Brian, if he's back by then.
If not, with someone other than one of us, someone who hasn't seen that. I
don't know about you, but if I caught the people who did that right now, I'd
have a hell of a job keeping my hands off them
...
I
don't think I'd
even try.'

Martin's
voice broke the silence. 'There was nothing on it to help us catch them,' he
muttered. 'Mags was right, the killer held the camera while he did that stuff
to Alec. There's not a sign of anyone, not a sound
...
and no indication that there was more than one person in the
room.'

'What
a terrible person, though.' The DCC looked at his colleagues, as Stevie Steele
came back into the van, sheepishly. 'What the hell could Alec Smith have done
for someone to do that to him?'

'Like
I said to Karen,' Andy Martin murmured, 'that sort of mind doesn't necessarily
need to have a reason.'

'Don't
say that, for fuck's sake!' said Skinner, urgently. 'If that's true, he might
do it again!

'I
don't need to say it, people, but I will. All the stops! Maggie, what are you
doing about the press?'

The
DCI glanced at her watch. 'Alan Royston's issuing a statement around now, up in
Edinburgh. I'll take a press conference once we've done the initial
door-to-door sweep.'

'Where?'

'Here,
if can find a suitable room. I'll try the community centre.'

'Fine.
You get that rest now; if you want me to see the press with you, you only have
to ask. But first of all, I've got to tell the Chief Constable what's happened
here.'

He
caught her glance. 'Don't worry,' he reassured her. 'I'll tell him he's not
seeing the video. Jimmy's made a good recovery from his heart attack, but I
doubt if he's up to that.'

8

When
Skinner and Martin arrived back at the DCC's house in Gullane, Alex's car was
parked in the driveway. Sarah's was gone.

'Ah,
my kid's here,' said Bob. 'I guess she's child-minding while her step-mother
works on poor old Smith. Good, that means I can go and see Jimmy, rather than
just phoning him.' As he opened the door of the sports car, Bob looked at his
friend. 'I'll bet you haven't had any breakfast. Come on in and have something,
a coffee at the very least.'

Andy
shook his head. 'Thanks, but
...'

'Listen,
son. The two of you can't avoid each other for the rest of your lives. You'll
be sad bastards if you try; now come in, and no "buts".'

Reluctantly,
Martin climbed out of the MGF and followed Skinner into the house.

Alex
was in the kitchen, emptying the dishwasher, with her back to the door. 'In you
go,' said Bob, in a whisper, then turned towards the stairs, leaving him there.

For
a second, he thought about turning to go, but instead he stepped into the
kitchen.

She
heard his footfall and straightened up, a plate in her hand. 'Hi, P—' she
began, her voice tailing off as she glanced over her shoulder. If anything she
was even more beautiful than he remembered her. He guessed that she had lost a
little weight; her face seemed more angular, her eyes deeper.

'Hello,
Alex,' he said. 'How are you doing?'

She
turned to face him, with an awkward smile which eased the tension. 'Oh, fine.
Still stuck in the bloody kitchen, as you can see. You?'

'Okay.
Getting on with the job.'

'I
heard you've moved house. Dean Village, eh? Going upmarket.'

He
shrugged, self-consciously. 'It was just something I felt I had to do. It's
better for the collection,' he added lamely.

'Collection?'
She smiled, her eyes sparkling - a flash of the old Alex. 'Ah, you mean the
paintings
...'

'Call
in and see them if you like.'

'What?
As in "Come up and see my etchings?" We're a bit beyond that.'

A
corner of his mouth flickered; more of a grimace than a grin. 'Maybe... But
come up anyway. I've missed you.'

For
a second, her eyebrows came together in a frown, a trademark gesture inherited
from her father. 'I've missed you too. And I'm sorry for the way I behaved
...
for everything but one thing, that is,'
she slipped in, quickly. 'But when we split up, Andy, we didn't just burn the
bridges between us - we mined the bloody river.'

'Maybe,
but we were friends before we were ever lovers. Can't we get back to that?'

'I
didn't think you wanted that.'

'Come
on, I hated what you did, but I couldn't hate you, not ever. Anyway, I was way
in the wrong too, before then.'

She
picked at her fingernails. 'Friends then?' she murmured. 'Okay. I'll come and
see the paintings in your new house. I'll call first, of course, just in case
you've got company.

As
a matter of fact, a colleague of mine called me last night to say she saw you
muscling your way into One Rutland Place with a very tasty blonde.'

He
flushed; there was no way of preventing it. The girl next door,' he protested.

'That'll
be handy for you.' She smiled again, wickedly. 'Does Karen Neville know about
her?' His mouth dropped open as he stared at her, as the smile became a laugh.
'Andy, this is a village. When will you realise that?'

'Hey,
since when did you listen to gossip? Karen's an off-duty pal, that's all. Just
like McGuire and Maggie.'

'Maybe,
but my friend Liz's taxi-driver brother didn't pick you up from their house at
ten o'clock on a Sunday morning a couple of months back.'

It
was his turn to laugh. 'Jesus wept, woman, I'm supposed to be the detective in
this relationship.' The last word hung awkwardly in the air for a few seconds,
until he pressed on. 'But you tell your pal Liz to tell her brother to be a bit
more discreet. One word from me to the traffic boys and he could find life
becoming very sad. There are so many reasons for us to pull a black cab over,
he could wind up spending more time in the garage than on the road.'

'Andy,'
Skinner's voice boomed from the doorway. 'It looks as if you're making your own
breakfast at this rate.' He was carrying the baby, carefully, in the crook of
an arm. 'Alex, your sister was crying. I think she needs changing.'

'So
change her. I'll do a couple of bacon sannies for my ex - just this once,
mind.'

He
helped Alex make his breakfast, then ate it with her watching him across the
kitchen table. 'I couldn't help noticing,' she said, as he sipped his coffee,
'that all that time I was ragging you about your sex life, you were gallant
enough not to interrogate me about mine.'

He
flashed a look across the table. 'None of my business -as you told me once, I
seem to remember.'

'I
remember; and I suppose I have to admit to having been wrong, since we were
still engaged at the time. Anyway, for what it's worth, I don't have one right
now. One thing that you and I did have in common - we were neither of us very
good at celibacy. When we broke up, I decided that I should learn. You know,
it's quite good for you, really.'

'What
is?' asked her father walking back into the room, carrying a newly changed
Seonaid.

'Bacon.'
Alex looked up from the table. 'You staying for a bit, Pops?'

'No.
I've got to go and see Jimmy.'

'Give
me ten minutes before you leave. Come on, Andy; finish your coffee and take me
for a spin in this new car I've heard about.'

He
did as she asked, handing her the keys and allowing her to drive the two-seater
out of Gullane, down the Luffness straight, around the Witches Hill Country
Club, as far as Ballencrieff, then back through Drem towards the village. He
watched her as she flicked the car through the gentle curves of the road as it
ran alongside the railway line, nodding approval at the smooth way in which she
took the tricky hairpin beyond Drem and accelerated away. She looked as if she
had been driving an MGF all her life.