were going to pay her two whole grand more than she was getting in the police. She was a sergeant at the time, about to be promoted to inspector, which made your offer worthless, even in financial terms.’
It was my turn to sigh. ‘Eden, you have your business empire and you have your executive toys, like this one, although it has to work for its keep as well, and I’m sure it’ll be tax-deductible in some way. But you’re a cold little man, with no real insight into the feelings of those closest to you. Honest to God, I’m amazed that people love you, but they do.’
‘I want his name,’ he snapped.
‘Whose?’
‘The name of the other man who stole my boat.’
‘No,’ I laughed. ‘You’re not having it. I told you, he borrowed it.’
‘He stole it!’
‘Look, just shut up!’ I shouted, forgetting for a moment that I wasn’t there to lose my temper. ‘Do you know what that man is doing now? He’s with his wife, in Edinburgh Royal, where she’s recovering from the fractured skull that Francey gave her. When she’s fit enough, their first priority will be to bury their dead child. You will forget about him.’
‘He should be prosecuted,’ Eden muttered.
‘Not going to happen,’ I told him, back in control of myself. ‘The Lord Advocate will never allow it, and your friend the First Minister won’t either. Leaving aside the fact that there’s precious little evidence against him, other than his own confession, which isn’t recorded anywhere, he’s protected. Don’t go after him, Eden. I’d a tough enough job stopping him from going after you.’ I raised my plastic flute to my lips and sipped some flat champagne. ‘Cheers, by the way.’
He scowled at me. ‘So that’s it? I get my boat back and nothing else. Walter’s death is suicide and the whole case is closed?
‘I wish it was,’ I said.
‘What more is there?’ he protested.
‘Walter Hurrell didn’t kill himself.’
‘What?’ He looked at Mario, then Mann. ‘But you said he did.’
‘Oh, he fired that gun all right,’ Lottie replied. ‘But he was well dead when he did. When we took another look at the flat, we found another bullet, on the right side of the bed, wedged between the floor and a skirting board. Whoever shot him wiped the pistol clean, put it in his hand, fired again, and then put another bullet in the magazine. Only Hurrell’s prints were on the weapon and it appeared that it had only been fired once.’
‘Whoever shot him,’ Eden repeated. ‘It could have been anyone.’
‘But it wasn’t,’ I said. ‘My other half is a pathologist. She did Hurrell’s autopsy, and she is meticulous. One of the things that she checks for as a matter of routine is sexual activity; when she did that with Hurrell she noticed something unusual. There were traces of soap in his pubic hair. She gave it a good comb through and she found something else; it wasn’t all his. There were a few hairs in there that had become detached from another person . . . female, in case anyone’s wondering.’
I looked around, steadying myself with a hand as the boat rocked on a sudden swell. ‘A further detailed search found matching hairs to those, attached to a large blue towel in the bathroom. The hypothesis is this. Hurrell’s partner washed his genitalia after he was dead, in an attempt to remove all traces of herself and then washed herself, possibly took a shower.’ I paused. ‘Now why would she do that?’ I asked.
‘Why?’ Rory repeated.
‘Possibly because she had to be somewhere in a hurry,’ I replied. ‘What time did you take off from Edinburgh last Thursday night? ‘
‘Nine o’clock. It was supposed to be eight, but we were held back because Mum was . . .’ He stopped, abruptly. ‘Hold on a minute. What are you suggesting?’
‘Yes,’ Eden exclaimed, ‘be very careful here , Bob.’
‘I’m being as careful as I can, but this is a fact. There’s a CCTV camera at the end of Moray Mews. It covers the front entrance of every property there. Walter Hurrell died around seven on Thursday evening. The street camera shows nobody entering or leaving his flat at all on that day, yet somebody left there.’
‘Then it must have been by the back entrance,’ he declared.
‘Agreed,’ Sammy Pye said. ‘Your house has a back door as well, doesn’t it, sir, through the garden flat where Rory lives? And you have a security system, professionally installed, professionally maintained, with central