Skinner's Ordeal (42 page)

`Think your happy thought, Bob,' said O'Malley. `Concentrate on your present happiness, and let it drive everything else to one side. Concentrate, and talk me through it as you do.

What are you thinking about right now?'

`Sarah and Jazz,' he said at last. 'In Spain, by the side of the pool. The sun's going down, and I've got a beer in my hand . . . Alex, on the day when she came back from Europe and took us all by surprise. Sarah again, and me, on the day we got married.'

`Good. That's your reality, remember. That's your life today. The memories that we've unlocked over the last three days might be terrible, but they are things in the past, and they can't hurt you any more than they have already.'

Bob pulled himself up to a sitting position on the bed, drew Sarah to him, and hugged her, hard enough for him to wince from the pain of the healing wound in his ribs. 'I know that,'

he said, looking over her shoulder at O'Malley. 'But it amazes me that I was able to keep them so deeply suppressed, and for so long. Imagine, for all those years, I didn't have the balls to face the truth of my own experiences.'

`No,' said the psychiatrist. 'In my experience your reaction is a sign of exceptional strength of character, and of very strong mental control. You should never have been put in that position at that air crash all those years ago. You were still a very young man, you had been on the same plane a week before; then to find the body of your friend's child . . . To expose you to that was inexcusable behaviour by your commanders.'

Skinner smiled at him. 'Give them a break, Kevin. They really weren't to know, and I didn't say anything. Mind you, it explains one thing. Eddie McGuinness went on to become Deputy Chief Constable, and latterly I worked quite closely with him. Yet I had this in-built dislike of the man that I could never explain to myself. I can now. The fact is that any half-fit man could have climbed up to look in that cockpit window. Eddie ordered me to do it because Pender was throwing up, and because he didn't have the bottle himself to face what might have been in there.'

`What was in there, Bob?'

`Nothing. The crew had run to the back of the plane before the impact. It was the Captain's body that was trapped under the fuselage.'

`Yet when you looked through the window, in the dream’. O'Malley stared at Skinner.

'That was quite remarkable,' the psychiatrist said. 'In fact, I've never encountered anything like it. First, as a very young adult you had an experience which would have left most people mentally scarred for life. You coped with it by taking all the detail of it, walling it up, entombing it in the depths of your mind.

`But then, a few years later, you had an experience that was even worse. Infinitely worse, in fact. You dealt with that by taking it and hiding it, for extra security, actually inside your first terrible memory, behind the wall, in that tomb in your subconscious!

Remarkable, quite remarkable. Bob, if you'll allow me, I'd like to publish a report of your case, on a Mr X basis, of course.' Ì'll need to think about that!'

'Naturally, but I hope you'll agree. You know,' he went on, 'it's pretty obvious how those locked memories were disturbed.'

`Sure, through me being called to a second air crash.'

O'Malley shook his head. 'No. Not just that. I'm aware that you rehearse situations like these — but that hasn't been enough to trigger any memories. The crash itself might have knocked a couple of bricks out of the wall, but it would have repaired itself pretty quickly.

It was the cockpit, and especially the moment when you had to break into it to rescue the child. That's really what knocked down all the mental barriers. Not only were you smashing into that cabin, but also into your own subconscious!'

`The man in the cottage,' said Skinner slowly. 'He appeared in the original dream, the one I had when I was under sedation. Why didn't he reappear under hypnosis?'

'I think he was probably just a side-effect of your sedation. You obviously knew who he was, so I'd say that he relates to a separate experience, but one that you've come to terms with to an acceptable degree.'

The two men looked at each other in silence until Sarah squeezed her husband's arm. 'Bob, how did you come to be at the scene of Myra's accident? Surely they didn't send for you?'

'No, love. I was driving home after my shift. It was as simple as that. I got there a minute after the Fire Brigade and before the ambulance. The car was so smashed up that I didn't even realise it was her . . . until I looked inside, and caught the scent of Chanel No. 5.' His voice tailed off.

`But . . . what you said about the brake-fluid pipe. Why would anyone want to do that to Myra?'

He swung his legs over the side of the bed, and stood up, then took a few steps towards the window. She watched him as he turned back to face her.

`That's the whole point, love,' he said quietly. 'Myra was driving my car that day. It was a souped-up Mini GT job, and it went like shit off a shovel. Hers was an elderly Triumph 2000, a big genteel thing that she took to work, and that the pair of us used to take Alex around in. One of the police mechanics did homers in his lunch-breaks, and he looked after it for me. So I had the Triumph in town that day, being serviced. Normally, I'd have been driving the Mini.'

Was the cut pipe investigated?'

Ì'm sure it wasn't. I have to assume now that it was only me who saw it, and I was in no state to talk to anyone about anything.'

`No,' said the psychiatrist, 'nor to face up to the realisation. That's why your defence mechanism clicked in again.'

Ì guess so,' said Skinner. 'Anyway, after the accident, our traffic guys found some mud on the road. They assumed that Myra had been travelling too fast . . . which she usually was when she drove the Mini . . . and that she'd hit it. The Fatal Accident Inquiry verdict was accidental death, end of story.'

He turned and with a warm smile, leaned across to O'Malley, and shook his hand. 'Thanks Kevin, for the last three days, and for draining the mental abscess.

`How do you feel now?'

`Cleansed. The toothache's gone for good. All of a sudden I feel physically stronger too.

I'm almost ready for action again. Know what? I'm looking forward first of all to a natural sleep, then to getting out of this place.'

‘Woah, hoss,' said Sarah. 'This is your physician speaking. She, and Braeburn your surgeon, are telling you that you have another week in here.'

He glowered at her, in real annoyance. 'Well, if I have, I'm buggered if I'll spend it reading magazines. I want to see Andy tonight for an update on the crash investigation . . . AND I want him to set up a team meeting in here for tomorrow. We've got to get a result from this investigation, and fast.'

She smiled. 'How do you know Andy hasn't made an arrest?'

`Come on, if he had, not even you could have stopped him from telling me all about it.'

'Ah, but you forget. He's not just dealing with your wife now. He's dealing with a potential mother-in-law. In fact, he hasn't just made one arrest. He and Jimmy have made four.'

Skinner's eyes widened in astonishment.

EIGHTY-EIGHT

‘You don't know how good it is to see you looking yourself again,' said Proud Jimmy. 'I don't mind telling you now that it scared me silly, looking at you lying there with that bloody great tube down your throat.'

Ìt didn't exactly fill me with a hell of a lot of confidence,' said Skinner wryly.

`But you were out of it all, weren't you?'

Àye, most of the time, but once or twice I was aware of it. The memories are all coming back now, and one of them is of thinking, "Here, Skinner, this is not too clever." Still, as you say, it's all okay now, or it will be once my lung and my battered ribs heal up.'

For the first time in a week, Skinner was dressed in a shirt and slacks, and seated comfortably in a chair. On the television in the corner, the cronies of
Last of the Summer
Wine
wandered soundlessly through their dales.

`Can you remember the attack?' the Chief asked him.

He flashed his silver-haired friend a slightly scathing look. Òh aye, only too well! Those three clowns!'

The one you hit in the throat; he's still in Ward 23, you know.'

‘life's a bitch, isn't it?' said Skinner. The girl isn't still here, though, is she?'

No. She's on remand on an attempted murder charge.'

‘Mmmm. I can't make up my mind whether she was more scared than vicious. I'm sorry I broke her wrist, whichever it was.'

`Listen man, if you hadn't, she'd have stuck that knife in you again, and we'd have been burying you on Friday, as well as young McGrath.'

Àye, I know, but . . . D'you not think we could drop the charge to serious assault?'

Sir James looked at him sternly. 'Absolutely no way. Whether it was premeditated or not, she was carrying a blade. You know the policy on that. She's going down for attempt to murder, and the Advocate Depute is going to ask for an exemplary sentence. That's cut and dried.' The frown was replaced by an amused chuckle. 'From the sound of you, this experience seems to have changed you. Is it going to be Gentle Bob, instead of the Big Man, from now on?'

`Hah’ Skinner snorted. 'I've come out of this with a new set of objectives, Jimmy. And when I achieve them, you'll see just how soft I've become.' He stared grimly at the wall for a few seconds.

`Talking about McGrath,' he said suddenly, 'Ali Higgins told me about Leona surprising them all, and putting herself up for the seat. She's a great wee woman, that one. Edinburgh Dean will do better with her than it did with her late husband, that's for sure!'

Now, now Bob of the dead, and all that.'

`You mean it ill becomes me in the circumstances?'

Proud Jimmy laughed heartily. 'Something like that, I suppose. Here,' he said, 'I'll tell you of someone who didn't share your enthusiasm for the Widow McGrath as a candidate: her agent, Marshall Elliot.'

Èh?'

`Yes. I was speaking at the funeral to Dame Janet, the Tories' head cheerleader in Scotland. She told me that Elliot had been spitting blood about it to her, on an Agent to Agent basis, last Friday afternoon before her adoption meeting. He said that he felt she was doing it from the wrong motives.'

Ànd what did Janet feel?'

The Chief chuckled again. 'She said that deep down, every Agent feels that he can do it better than the candidate, or the MP. She said also that Elliot is the most fanatical Tory she's ever met, and that he'd been going out of his mind with worry because he was convinced that Roland McGrath didn't have the stuff to hold the seat at the next election.'

`No matter,' said Skinner. 'From what I've seen of Marsh Elliot, he's a good bloke.

Whatever his private view, he'll give her his very best in her campaign, I'm quite certain of that. Remember that guy I nicked last summer?'

The one who tried to kill you? Who could forget him?' `Well, I quite liked him, but I still put him away for life.' Proud Jimmy laughed out loud. 'Yes, and he sent you flowers and a

"Get Well" card.'

Skinner stared in astonishment. 'You're kidding,' he gasped.

`No. Sarah has all your cards at home. You'll find it among them. Anyway, to go back to Elliot for a moment, I think you're right in your judgement of him. I chose my word carefully when I said that he didn't share your enthusiasm for Leona. Dame Janet went on to tell me that they watched her together at the adoption meeting, and Elliot changed his mind on the spot. She won him over, convinced him that whatever her motives, she'll hold the seat.'

Too right she will,' said Skinner. 'That's not me revealing my politics,' he added, 'it's just a statement of fact.' Smiling to himself, he stood up and stretched, gingerly. 'Anyway, enough of the side-show. What about you, eh? Tell me, Chief Constable, when was it that you last arrested someone?'

`God alone knows,' said Proud Jimmy. He grinned at his deputy. 'But at least when I arrest them they're taken away in a car, not a bloody ambulance!'

`Still. Sir Stewart Morelli, and the whole surviving Noble family, save the cat: that's quite an afternoon's work. Andy told me all about it when he and Alex were in earlier. He brought me up to date on the whole investigation. I rather think we've got a problem — an embarrassment of suspects. You were dead right to pass it on to the Fiscal.'

Sir James grunted. 'Morelli. Bloody man! I don't really think he had anything to do with the bomb, but the circumstances indicate that he could have. You know, when I got down to London, he'd got some of his courage back and tried to bluster his way out. Tried to treat me like some backwoodsman. Talked to me as if I was one of his tame Generals!'

`Must be the uniform, Jimmy!'

`Maybe. He's got more respect for it now, anyway. I wound up telling him that he was a suspect and that I was a copper, and that whether or not we were both knights of the same order he was getting no fucking favours from me, and that he and Mrs Noble would be putting their weekend travel bags to good use by travelling up to Edinburgh, under arrest.'

Suddenly he gave a wicked smile. 'You're wrong about the cat, too. The woman insisted on bringing it with her.'

Skinner laughed out loud. 'So what did you do with them last night?' he asked. lock them up in cells in St Leonards?'

`Hardly. I wasn't that tough on them. In fact, I was probably too bloody kind in the end. I put them in rooms . . . separate rooms . . . in the Ellersley, with Donaldson and Mcllhenney as baby-sitters. The soldier, Noble's half-brother, spent the night in Redford Barracks, with Arrow and his sidekick.'

Idly, Sir James strolled across the room and picked a handful of green grapes from a bunch on Skinner's bedside cabinet. `Morelli was a deal less bumptious this morning,' he said. 'Arrow sent copies of the tapes of their conversation at Swinbrook to the Cabinet Secretary, as soon as they were transcribed. They can move fast when they like, those buggers in Whitehall. The new Secretary of State for Defence was appointed this morning

... a man from the Northern Ireland Office . . . and at the same time they announced that Morelli had taken early retirement, because of shock over the murders of Davey and Noble and over his own narrow escape.'