Macbeth

‘Only a bit exhausted?’

Duff pondered. Shook his head. ‘No, I’d actually been wondering whether I could have the next two days off. I know we’re in the middle of an investigation, but Caithness can...’

‘Of course, of course, Duff. No point riding a horse to death just because the rider’s in a hurry. Go back home to Fife. Say hello to Meredith from me and tell her you have to stay in bed for two days at least. And those are, believe it or not, the chief commissioner’s orders.’

‘Thank you.’

‘I warn you I’ll come and check you’re resting in Fife.’

‘Fine.’

‘And then you come back with an answer regarding the deputy position in three days.’

‘Deal.’

Duff went straight to a toilet and threw up in the bowl.

His shirt was drenched with sweat and it was only an hour later, as he was finally driving over the old bridge, that his pulse dropped back to normal.

Lady walked through the restaurant and gaming room. She counted nine customers. Tried to tell herself that straight after lunch was the quietest time. She went to see Jack in reception.

‘Any new clients today?’

‘Not yet, ma’am.’

‘Not yet? Will there be any later today?’

He smiled apologetically. ‘Not that I know of.’

‘Did you pop into the Obelisk, as I asked?’

‘Of course, ma’am.’

‘And there it was...?’

‘Quiet, I would say.’

‘You’re lying, Jack.’

‘Yes, ma’am.’

Lady had to laugh. ‘Jack, you’re always a comfort to me. Is it the murders here, do you think?’

‘Maybe. But someone also rang asking specifically for the room Duncan died in. At a pinch, the bodyguards’ room.’

‘People are sick in the head. And talking about sick, I’d like you to do a bit of probing around this boy Tourtell had with him. Find out how old he is.’

‘So you think...?’

‘Let’s hope for the boy’s sake he’s over sixteen. And for ours he’s under.’

‘Any special reason for this information, ma’am?’

‘Storing up ammo just in case, Jack. The mayor appoints the chief commissioner, and even if the mayor usually follows the pecking order, in a case like this we can never be too sure, can we?’

‘That’s all?’

‘Well, we’d like to see Tourtell put more pressure on the Gambling and the Casino Board to scrutinise the Obelisk’s business practices, of course. I’ve been patient and tried the kind approach, but if it doesn’t produce any results soon, we’ll have to take more drastic action.’

‘I’ll see what I can find out.’

‘Jack?’

‘Yes, ma’am?’

‘Have I been sleepwalking recently?’

‘Not on my shifts, ma’am.’

‘Are you lying again?’

‘You might have popped down to reception last night, but I wasn’t sure whether you were asleep or not.’

She laughed. ‘Jack, Jack, if only everyone was as good as you. I had a suspicion. The key was in the lock on the outside of the door when I woke up.’

‘Anything in particular on your mind? You only sleepwalk when something’s bothering you.’

‘Is there anything else but bother?’ Lady sighed.

‘And dreams? Do you have the same dream again and again?’

‘I’ve told you, Jack. It isn’t a dream, it’s a memory.’

‘Sorry, but you can’t know that, ma’am. You can’t know it happened exactly like that if you see it every night. Then the dream becomes a memory. For all you know, the child died a natural death.’

‘The eternal comforter. But I don’t need comfort. I don’t need to forget. Quite the opposite, I need to remember. Remember what I’ve given up to be where I am, to put a price on my childless life every single morning when I wake up between silk sheets beside a man I’ve chosen to spend the night with, and can go downstairs to my place, to a life I’ve created for myself. Where I’m respected for what I am, Jack.’

‘None of us is respected for what we are, ma’am. We’re respected for what we can do. Especially if there’s something we can do to the person we want respect from—’

‘You’re too clever to be a receptionist, Jack.’

‘—and unfortunately that’s why a receptionist’s wisdom doesn’t gain much respect. He’s a harmless observer, a eunuch and occasionally a comfort to those who are respected.’

‘I’m glad you never had children, Jack. You’re the only person I can talk to about neglecting your own baby without it arousing the shocked revulsion it would from parents. You’re a clever, tolerant man who prefers understanding to condemnation.’

‘What is there to condemn? A young girl growing up in impoverished circumstances, who’s raped when she’s thirteen, becomes pregnant and — abandoned and without a roof over her head — gives birth to a child she cannot keep alive?’

‘What if I didn’t try hard enough?’