Macbeth

‘Inspector Lennox, isn’t it? Anti-Corruption Unit.’

‘Impressive. I apologise for bursting in like this.’

‘How can I help, Lennox?’

‘We’ve had a credible tip-off of an imminent assassination attempt against you.’

The boy gave a start, but Tourtell didn’t bat an eyelid. ‘More details, Inspector.’

‘We don’t have any more for the present, but we’re taking it seriously and I’m to escort you from here to a safer place.’

Tourtell raised an eyebrow. ‘And what could be safer than a hospital?’

‘The newspapers say you’re here, Mr Mayor. Anyone has access here. Let me accompany you to your car and follow you until you’re safe within your own four walls. Then I hope we’ll have time to delve deeper. So if you wouldn’t mind coming with me...’

‘Right now? As you see—’

‘I can see and I apologise, but it’s your duty and mine to protect the person of the mayor.’

‘Stand by the door and keep watch, Lennox, so—’

‘These aren’t my orders, sir.’

‘They are now, Lennox.’

‘Go.’ The whispered, barely audible word came from the woman in the bed. ‘Go, and take Kasi with you.’

Tourtell laid a hand on hers. ‘But Edith, you—’

‘I’m tired, my dear. I want to be alone now. Kasi’s safer with you. Listen to the man.’

‘Are you—’

‘Yes, I’m sure.’

The woman closed her eyes. Tourtell patted her hand and turned to Lennox. ‘OK, let’s go.’

They left the room. The boy a few steps in front of them.

‘Does he know?’ Lennox asked.

‘That she’s dying? Yes.’

‘And how’s he taking it?’

‘Some days are harder than others. He’s known for a while.’ They went down the stairs towards the kiosk and the exit. ‘But he says it’s fine. It’s fine as long as he has one of us. I’m just going to get some cigarettes. Will you wait for me?’

‘There she is,’ Macbeth said, pointing.

Jack pulled in to the kerb opposite the Grand Hotel, between a dry-cleaner’s and a hamburger bar. They both got out, and Macbeth ran his eye up and down the empty street.

‘Thanks for coming so quickly,’ Caithness said.

‘No problem,’ Macbeth said. She smelled of strong perfume. He couldn’t remember having noticed that before.

‘Show me,’ Macbeth said.

Macbeth and Jack followed her down the street. Saturday evening was just warming up. Under a flashing neon sign that read NUDE WOMEN a suited doorman gave Caithness the once-over, then threw his cigarette end to the tarmac and ground it in with his heel.

‘I thought you would bring Seyton with you,’ Caithness said.

‘He had to go to St Jordi’s this evening. Is it here?’

Caithness had stopped by the entrance to a narrow alley cordoned off with orange Homicide Unit tape. Macbeth peered down. It was so narrow that the dustbins outside the back doors on both sides were close. And it was too dark to see anything at all.

‘I was here first. The rest of the SOC team is coming later. That’s the way it is at the weekend. They’re scattered to the four winds.’ Caithness pushed up the tape and Macbeth ducked underneath. ‘If you could go in and have a look at the body alone, sir. I’ve covered it with a sheet, but please don’t touch anything else. We want as few prints as possible in there. Your driver can wait here while I go back to Joey’s and meet the pathologist. He’s supposed to be just around the corner.’

Macbeth looked at her. He saw nothing in her face. Yet. She had thought Seyton would be coming. Strong perfume. Which camouflaged any other smell she might be secreting.

‘OK,’ he said and set off down the alley.

He hadn’t walked more than ten metres before all the sounds from the main street disappeared and all that could be heard was the whirr of fans, coughing from an open window and the drone of a radio: Todd Rundgren, ‘Hello, It’s Me’. He sneaked between the dustbins, creeping forward without quite knowing why. Habit, he supposed.

The body lay in the middle of the alley, half inside the cone of light from a wall lamp. He could make out 15th Street at the other end, but it was too far away for him to see if the alley was taped off there as well.

A pair of feet stuck out from under the white sheet. He immediately recognised the winkle-pickers.

He went over to the sheet. Took a deep breath. The air contained the sweet smell of dry-cleaning chemicals coming from a noisy extractor fan above the door right behind him. He grasped the sheet in the middle and pulled it away.

‘Hi, Macbeth.’

Macbeth stared into the muzzle of the shotgun raised towards him by the man lying on his back in the darkness. The scar shone on his face. Macbeth released the air from his lungs.

‘Hi, Duff.’

Duff studied Macbeth’s hands as he spoke. ‘Macbeth, you are hereby arrested. If you move a finger I’ll shoot you now. Your choice.’

Macbeth looked towards 15th Street. ‘I’m the chief commissioner in this town, Duff. You can’t arrest me.’

‘There are other authorities.’

‘The mayor?’ Macbeth laughed. ‘I don’t think you can rely on him living that long.’

‘I’m not talking about anyone in this town.’ Duff got to his feet without the shotgun veering a centimetre from Macbeth.