Free Murder in Adland by Bruce Beckham

shadows them to their car and lowers
her moon face close to the open driver’s window.
    ‘Did I mention
Ivan and Krista Morocco?’
    ‘Er, I don’t
believe so, Mrs Goldsmith – was there something?’
    ‘Well, of
course... its just the old industry grapevine – but word is they had a
clandestine fling before Ivan married Miriam.  In those days Krista was a
client of Ivan’s former firm, before she joined us.  Naturally, client-agency
liaisons are frowned upon – never mind the fiancée, eh, Inspector?’
    ‘We’ll bear
that in mind, Mrs Goldsmith.’  Skelgill is fumbling for reverse
gear.  ‘You’ve been very helpful, madam.’
    As she
waves them off, Skelgill notices through his rear-view mirror that she hauls a
mobile phone from the hidden depths of her ample chest.

15. CALTON HILL
     
    ‘She
obviously didn’t want to let go of her cheesecake, Guv.’
    ‘Aye
– what was all that about?’
    ‘I got a message
from the office, Guv – the fingerprints on the dish that you tasted in
the Tregilgis’s room were hers.  I thought it would be interesting to ask
her how it got there.  It seems the beer bottles had been left by a couple
of the lads who’d gone in to help.’
    Skelgill
nods pensively.  He has decided to postpone their interview with Dermott
Goldsmith.  The more they hear the more he feels it is important to be
fully informed before that meeting takes place.  Instead, and perhaps with
an ulterior motive in mind, he has suggested they kill a little time in order
that he can show DS Jones “the best view in Edinburgh”.
    To this
end, they have parked near St Andrew’s House, home of Scotland’s civil service,
and climbed the stone steps to the summit of Calton Hill.  One of
Edinburgh’s ‘Seven Hills’, and just two minutes from the east end of Princes
Street, a short scramble rewards the breathless visitor with what is arguably
the most dramatic urban panorama this side of the Atlantic.
    Now DS
Jones’s mobile rings.  Suitably awed by the vista, she continues to gaze
out over the ancient town as she takes the call – it is from her team at
headquarters.  Skelgill saunters away and joins the queue at a burger van
stationed beside the old City Observatory.  His philosophy is that, in
their job, you never know when you might get your next meal, so if an
opportunity presents itself it is important to grasp it.  Thus he returns to
the viewpoint with various packets, and teas in disposable paper cups.
    He sits
down on the bench beside her, in the shadow of the Nelson Monument, and begins
to tuck in contentedly.  As he munches thoughtfully, he snatches glances
at his new colleague.  He might well be reflecting that – against
his better judgement – he is actually enjoying working with her.  She
is far less antagonistic than his regular partner, DS Leyton, and frankly is
smarter and naturally harder working.  Moreover – and something he
probably wouldn’t admit to himself – she panders to his ego.
    ‘Guv, how come
you’re such an expert on Edinburgh?’
    ‘I lived
here.’
    ‘When you
were a student?’
    ‘I’d call
it more of a gap year.’
    ‘What did
you do?’
    ‘I was in a
band.’
    ‘Really
– what kind?’
    ‘Punk
– well, sort of folky rocky punk.  We were called Against The
Grain .’
    ‘What
instrument did you play?’
    ‘I was lead
singer.’
    DS Jones
looks like she might be about to giggle.  She has already been subjected
to several tuneless renderings during their travels so far.
    ‘Wow
– that’s – amazing, Guv.’
    Skelgill
looks a little sheepish.
    ‘I had to
get drunk – to get up on the stage – but it kind of went with our
image.’
    ‘Don’t
suppose you’re on YouTube?’
    ‘Luckily it
hadn’t been invented.’
    DS Jones
grins – more openly now he has admitted to his failings.
    ‘It looks
like a great place to live – Edinburgh.’
    ‘Aye
– it was alright – excellent ale.’  He casts about and takes a
deep breath