I went through to tell her that Sarah was in Edinburgh and that she was in full charge of the brood. Then I went upstairs and dug out my running gear. At least twice a week, all year round, I run in the morning. In the summer I can go where I want, but when the nights are long, and the sun comes up with the eight o’clock news, I have to keep to the village, where there’s enough light.
A complete lap of my route is just over four kilometres. I did that easily in under half an hour, concentrating on nothing but the music from my iPod. My choice varies; it’s dependent on how fast I want to run. I had stuff to get out of my system, so that morning I chose Status Quo.
When I was done, rather than tackle another lap, I went into the village gym and spent some time on the weights. I’ve never been one for bulking myself up, but I do have levels that I like to maintain, although it’s harder now that I’m past fifty. Fifteen minutes in the sauna and I jogged home for my second shower of the day, feeling more like a human being and much less alone.
I called Sarah from the bedroom. I was taking something of a chance; the two autopsies might have gone on into the early hours and she might have been trying to grab some sleep. But no, she wasn’t. In fact, she was in her office.
Pathology is a big subject in university terms; she works entirely on the forensic side, and with Joe Hutchinson’s retirement looming, she was about to become head of a five-person unit that is part academic, part NHS, providing services under contract to the Crown Office, not only in and around Edinburgh, but in Fife and across much of the Scottish Central belt .
She could have based herself pretty much anywhere, but she had chosen the Royal Infirmary, the department’s administration centre. That’s where she was when I reached her.
‘Have you been home?’ I asked. She still has her own house, a relic from when we were still apart. It had been useful until then, but it was something we had to address.
‘Not for long,’ she admitted. ‘I didn’t get cleared up in the mortuary until much before three, but I needed to be around early to take the first lab results.’
‘Everything as expected?’
‘Pretty much. There’s something in the tests that might help the guys, but then again, it might not.’
‘The guys?’
‘Sammy and Sauce. Mario’s decreed that the links between these murders and the child are so close that they’re a single inquiry.’
‘I’d have done the same,’ I admitted.
‘Yes,’ she laughed, ‘and when you were chief, if your head of CID had taken a different view you’d have overruled him.’
‘That’s how bad I was?’ I asked.
‘From everything I’ve heard . . . although I wasn’t around for much of that time. How were the kids? Good night?’
‘Better than I had. That package I got from Mario wasn’t exactly full of information. In fact it was bloody annoying; a real shoddy job done by a real shoddy operator. I know I wasn’t in Strathclyde long, but honest to God, love,’ I grumbled, ‘I should have had a better grip on it than that.’
‘So think of this as your second chance,’ she suggested. ‘Got to go now. Have a good day and I’ll see you later.’
‘With that testing kit?’
‘Yes, I promise. I’ll call by Boots on the way home.’
Downstairs there was peace and quiet in the kitchen, with all three youngsters having gone off to school in my absence. I made myself a slightly late breakfast, melon, muesli, rye toast and mineral water, then carried it to the office, on a tray, to enjoy it at my leisure.
I had finished, and was taking a second look at the online Saltire, paying particular attention to the coverage of Sammy Pye’s investigation . . . by that time the Flotterstone deaths were being reported but not labelled as homicide, or linked to the other . . . when my email alert pinged.
I checked my box and saw a message from Luisa McCracken. I opened it and read:
Mr Skinner,
Please find attached a list of all guests and other attendees at events and receptions on board MV Princess Alison over the period requested by Mr Higgins. Should you need any more information, please give me a call.