Free Pray for the Dying by Quintin Jardine Page A

live, sir?’ Payne asked as he led the way up a flight of stairs towards the third floor.
    Skinner stopped. ‘Lowell,’ he said, ‘I don’t expect to be “sirred” all the time by senior officers, least of all by you. You want to call me something official, call me “Chief”. When there’s nobody else around and you ask me something you’d ask me over the dinner table, call me Bob, like always.’
    ‘Fair enough. Although,’ he added, ‘it was really a professional question, since I’ll have to know where to raise you in an emergency.’
    ‘True. The answer is that as much as possible I plan to live in my own house. I will have a driver and I plan to use him.’
    ‘That’s in Gullane?’
    ‘Sure. Where . . .’ He halted in mid-sentence. ‘Ah, you thought I might stay in Aileen’s flat.’
    ‘Well, yes.’
    ‘That won’t be happening. It will become apparent soon, if only because we’re both public figures, that she and I are no longer together.’
    Payne was silent for a few seconds, as they resumed their climb. ‘I see,’ he murmured. ‘I’m sorry to hear that. So that’s why you weren’t with her at the concert.’
    ‘That was part of the reason. Anyway, it’s not public knowledge yet, although I came close to making it so in my press briefing, when that bloody News person wound me up. It is something I’ll have to deal with, and soon, but not right now. Once we’ve both calmed down, we may issue a joint statement, but we’re both too hot to discuss that just now.
    ‘So,’ he continued, ‘Gullane is where you’ll reach me most of the time. When I have to stay here I’ll use a hotel; Hanlon’s already said he’ll pick up the tab for that . . . without me even asking, would you believe.’
    They reached the top of the stairway; Payne turned left, and headed along a corridor that was blocked by a glass doorway, with a keypad. He opened it with four digits and led the way into a complex with more than a dozen rooms around a small central open space, with four chairs surrounding a low table, on which magazines were piled.
    ‘This is it, Chief, your new command suite. Your office is facing us.’
    Skinner stared ahead. ‘It’s got glass walls,’ he exclaimed.
    ‘Relax,’ his aide said, noting his indignation. ‘There are internal blinds between the panels. I’m told that Chief Constable Field kept them open all the time.’
    ‘That will change; they’ll be closed permanently. I never did like people watching me think.’
    ‘There’s a bathroom and a changing room as well. They have solid walls,’ he added.
    ‘Just as well, or I’d be going back to Jock Govan’s old suite. Do I have a secretary?’
    ‘Of course, but she isn’t here today. I called her and told her what was happening, about you, and your appointment. I didn’t want her finding out from the telly. She offered to come in, but I told her not to.’
    ‘What’s her name?’
    ‘Marina Deschamps.’
    ‘Mmm,’ Skinner murmured, then he blinked. ‘Deschamps, you said? Wasn’t that Toni’s birth name?’
    Payne nodded. ‘Yes. It’s her sister; the chief brought her with her. She insisted on it, apparently, before she accepted the job.’
    ‘Eh? The bloody Human Resources director didn’t think to tell me that last night.’ He frowned. ‘What about the mother? Are we flying her up here?’
    ‘The Met took care of that. They got her on to the first Glasgow flight this morning.’
    ‘I wish to hell they’d left her down there.’ He sighed. ‘I know I have to pay her a courtesy call, but I’ll leave that until tomorrow. Meantime, the sister should be regarded as on compassionate leave. Does she have a contract of employment?’
    ‘I don’t know for sure, Chief, but I’d imagine so.’
    ‘She’s a civilian, yes?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Okay. Tell the Human Resources director that her contract will be honoured. If she wants to stay here in another capacity, she can. If she wants to leave, then