Free Dark Suits and Sad Songs by Denzil Meyrick Page A

and ugly enough to know better. Send him some dinner up to his room, please, and as much coffee as he can drink.’
    ‘Judas,’ Scott muttered under his breath, squinting at the hotel’s proprietor.
    ‘Enough! Get up those stairs!’ Daley shouted. He waited until he had seen Scott, somewhat unsteadily, ascend the staircase and head off to his room, accompanied by the sounds of the Eagles’ ‘Hotel California’ spilling from the bar’s jukebox.
    In the inside pocket of his jacket, he felt his phone vibrate.
    ‘Daley.’ He listened intently for a few moments. ‘I’ll be there in two minutes. Watch him, please,’ he nodded to Annie, who smiled back, sheepishly.

11
    Gary Wilson watched the CCTV footage again, this time with Superintendent McClusky, from the Edinburgh division. Having spent more than thirty years working in the city, there weren’t many cops he didn’t recognise, especially since, up until the formation of Police Scotland, he’d been in charge of recruitment for the old Lothian and Borders force.
    ‘Well, do you know him, Donnie?’ Wilson asked testily.
    ‘No. I’ve never seen him in my life. He’s definitely not one of ours, that’s for sure. What about the press? An undercover job, perhaps?’
    ‘No. Nobody will hold their hands up to it, and trust me, I’ve exerted all the pressure I can. Legally, that is. You’ve got contacts with our friends in dark places, though; can you do me a favour?’
    ‘Spooks? No way. Since the Edinburgh Agreement, everything’s closed down. The London-based intelligence agencies are, no matter what they say, in de facto hush mode. All friendly contact has disappeared.’
    ‘But it could be one of them, yes?’
    ‘Oh aye. When it comes to them, anything could be anything. But why?’
    ‘Cudihey.’ Wilson almost spat the name out. ‘There’s something about him I’ve missed. He wasn’t just some slap-headed yes man, counting down the days before he could retire to Skye, or some other shithole. There was more to him.’
    ‘There is another possibility, of course,’ McClusky said thoughtfully.
    ‘Which is?’
    ‘This Cudihey torched himself in Kintyre, am I right?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Well, as you can imagine, Gary, the amalgamation of our separate little bands hasn’t gone quite as smoothly as our well-spun PR would have you believe. Glasgow still consider themselves to be the centre of the universe, the arrogant bastards. I wouldn’t put it past them to have stuck one of their own men on the job, despite the new protocols.’
    ‘Well, check it out for me, will you? I need to know who and what I’m dealing with here. This is starting to make even the First Minister’s Office a bit jumpy. They haven’t told her in person yet, but they’ll have to soon. It’s a sensitive time for us all.’
    ‘I’ll do what I can, Gary.’
    ‘I would be most grateful. Some nice security consultancy contracts in the offing,’ Wilson smiled, ‘ideal for a newly retired senior officer.’
    ‘Message received and understood.’ McClusky nodded and stood up, replacing his braided cap on his head.
    Once he’d gone, Wilson took a battered diary from his desk, thumbed through the pages, then picked up his phone.
    After a pause, he said, ‘Well, how the devil are you, John? Or should I say Chief Superintendent Donald.’
    *
    As Daley entered the hallway of the flat, his first thought was how different the dwelling’s interior was compared to the dingy, rundown close and staircase that he had just walked through. Though lacking any personal touches, such as paintings or photographs, the flat was well decorated; the carpets thick and clean, the walls freshly painted.
    He was still angry at DS Scott, though he was intrigued by the call from DS Rainsford who’d been vague. Daley wondered why.
    As he walked into the lounge, the answer was obvious. There, amidst a small knot of police officers, lay the body of a young man. He was covered in blood, his eyes frozen