the woman in the purple tweed suit said, as she rose from her desk.
‘Ma’am,’ Lorimer replied, taking her hand and noting the firm handshake as well as the fact that in real life Felicity Stewart looked smaller and more careworn than she did on the television screen or in press photographs. Her steel grey hair was smooth and sleek and her make-up had been applied carefully to conceal her naturally ruddy complexion, but nothing had been done to take away the frown lines from around these penetrating grey eyes or the wrinkled flesh on her ageing hands. She had twisted a green and blue silk scarf around her neck, and, apart from her trademark pearl earrings, there was little other concession to fashion or femininity.
‘Sit down, Lorimer,’ she said, ushering him towards a chair. ‘Now, I don’t know what you expect me to say, but I’m not going to utter meaningless platitudes about Edward’s death. I’ll save those for the press.’
Lorimer’s raised eyebrows elicited a small smile from the first minister.
‘You said on the telephone that you wanted to let me know more about Mr Pattison, ma’am,’ Lorimer began. ‘And I’ll certainly welcome any background information you can give me.’ He looked at her, wondering just what was going on inside the first minister’s mind.
‘You’re shocked that I don’t put on a long Presbyterian face and say how awful Edward’s death is for us all, admit it.’ She gave a mirthless laugh. ‘Why do I say that? Well, I’ll tell you because you will want to know the truth about this man.’ She leaned forward, one finger shaking at the policeman as though he were being given a lecture. ‘Edward Pattison was a conniving bastard who would gladly have seen me sacked from this office.’
‘The press always described him as an ambitious man,’ Lorimer said tactfully.
‘Ho! Ambitious doesn’t cover it, Superintendent. Edward was totally ruthless and would have stopped at nothing to realise his plan to run the country.’ She smiled again, sitting back and folding her arms. ‘Suppose that gives me a motive for wanting to see him dead,’ she chuckled. ‘Lucky for me that I have an alibi for all of last night.’
‘Are you trying to suggest that there may have been a political motive behind Mr Pattison’s killing, ma’am?’
‘I have absolutely no idea, Lorimer. All I want to do is to give you the facts. I knew Edward Pattison as a colleague and, yes, as a rival. I cannot tell you everything about his personal life, of course. What Edward did in his own time was none of my business. What he did in parliamentary time certainly was and I want you to be clear about the sort of man he was, not what the papers will have you believe.’ She snorted. ‘I expect they’re already making him out to be some sort of Braveheart who would have led the country to independence. He wanted to project that image when it suited him, of course.’ She stopped, her eyes sliding away from his, her expression thoughtful. ‘It was something we all wanted at one time,’ Felicity Stewart remarked. Then she sighed and shook her head. ‘Edward was good at rallying the people. That was why I didn’t make any attempt to block his political career. But I want you to know, Lorimer, there are several people within this building who would happily have seen Edward come to grief. Now whether any one of them would have stooped so low as to take his life is something you have to find out. But he certainly had plenty of enemies, both within the present government and in the Labour Party.’
‘You think there might have been someone bitter enough about his defection to have had him killed?’ Lorimer’s tone held a note of scepticism.
‘Stranger things have happened,’ Felicity Stewart replied. ‘Though I admit it is more likely that someone would have brought him down by rumour and innuendo.’ She grinned, showing a set of perfect teeth. ‘After all, that’s exactly what he was trying to do to me.’
‘Really?’ Lorimer could not stop himself remarking. But there was a steeliness in those grey eyes that made him believe her.
‘It would be very helpful, ma’am, if you could give me the names of any persons who might have had reason to harm Mr Pattison,’ he continued, deliberately trying to keep the conversation on a formal footing.
‘Hmm, where do I begin?’ She leaned back, her cheek resting against her hand as she considered