Autographs In The Rain Part 33

Louise Bankier defused the bomb inside him with a simple laugh.

'Compared to your flat in London, or mine for that matter, we're luxuriating in s.p.a.ce here,' she said. 'What about the South African movie last year, when they wouldn't let us leave the hotel?

'Or that place off Malaysia where we did the location shots for that awful sci-fi epic? You and I, and the make-up girl, had to share a room; and the toilets . . .' She turned, grinning, to the big detective, moving across towards him. 'French style, they were, and the shower head was directly above you. Plus, there was no hot water on the island and the cold was in short supply, so you had to . . .'

She stopped herself short, blus.h.i.+ng slightly, and laid the flat of her hand on his chest, still laughing. 'Believe me, Neil, this house is lovely, just lovely. Plus, as Bob said yesterday, it's just like my mum and dad's place in Bearsden.'

His anger was completely forgotten, dissolved by the music of her laughter and the warmth of her touch. He looked from her to Glenys AlG.o.don. She was smiling too at the Malaysian memory, but he noticed that she did not blush. She was almost as tall as her employer, with copper coloured hair that at first he had a.s.sumed was dyed, until he saw that her skin tone was a very light brown, indicating a mix of ethnic origin, a West Indian grandparent, perhaps or a Mauritian.'I suppose so,' she conceded. 'But do you really want Clarence here at weekends?'

'I don't mind at all,' said Louise, 'if you don't, and if Neil's happy.'

Glenys's frown returned. 'Neil's in charge of my security,' the actress explained. 'He's a policeman, like his colleague.' She nodded towards a second man in the room, standing quietly beside the window.

'Excuse me, boss lady,' the secretary exclaimed, 'but what's this about?

When we talked about this project at first, you said that you might stay in Glasgow with your father and your sister. Now here you are, holed up in a bungalow in the sticks of Edinburgh, surrounded by coppers.'

Louise looked up at the big inspector. 'Neil,' she asked, quietly. 'Do you want to explain?'

'Sure. Let's all sit down, though.'

'No, you go ahead. I'll make us all some coffee; I noticed that someone's done some shopping for us.'

As she spoke the doorbell rang; Mcllhenney went to the front door and opened it. A woman stood in the small porch; she could have been Louise Bankier in her twenties. 'Hi,' she said, with a smile. 'You must be Inspector Neil. I'm Lucy, Lou's sister.'

'Come on in.' The detective swung the door wide. 'She told me you were coming through to see her.'

He led the younger Bankier into the living room, taking her coat from her on the way, and hanging it on a hook in the hall. The reunited sisters embraced. 'Good to see you, Luce!' Louise exclaimed. 'You pitched up at just the right moment, as usual. I'm just about to make coffee. Come with me; there's stuff I've got to tell you.'

The two women headed for the kitchen, leaving the policemen alone with the secretary. 'Okay,' said Glenys sharply, as soon as the door had closed. 'What is this?'

'I didn't introduce myself properly at the airport,' he began. 'My name is Detective Inspector Neil Mcllhenney. I'm the executive a.s.sistant to Detective Chief Constable Bob Skinner. We have reason to believe

'No bulls.h.i.+t!' the woman snapped. 'Plain talk, please.'

'Okay,' said Mcllhenney. 'Lou's got a stalker. Someone set off a smoke bomb in her hotel room early Sat.u.r.day morning; put her in hospital for a few hours. A week before that, she was in Regent Street with my boss, who's an old friend of hers; some b.a.s.t.a.r.d in a car, white male, dark Ford Mondeo, fired a shotgun at them. It was a blank, but DCC Skinner didn't

144.

AUTOGRAPHS IN THE RAIN.know that at the time. He's made a few enemies, so he a.s.sumed at first that it was the real thing and that he was the target. Now we're a.s.suming that Ms Bankier was.

'As long as she's working in Edinburgh, she's under our protection.

Effectively, I'll be her bodyguard.'

'You mean living with us?'

'No, but I'll be very close. My house is a few hundred yards away, and we've installed an alarm system that's linked to there and to the nearest police station. We've got some toys in the garden as well, that'll pick up anything heavier than a cat as soon as he steps over the fence.'

She looked at him. 'Your wife's gonna love that.'

'My wife is dead,' he answered, coldly.

She flicked an apologetic glance at him then looked down. 'Hey, I'm sorry.'

'So am I.' Mcllhenney nodded across to the other, younger, man. 'This is Detective Sergeant Stevie Steele; he's been detached from other duties to the investigative side of this thing, and he'll report directly to DCS Martin, our Head of CID and through him to DCC Skinner.

'First off, he's going to need to talk to you.'

'Sure,' said Glenys. All her earlier suspicion and aggression had vanished, leaving only concern. 'Inspector,' she asked, 'you said that your boss is an old friend of Louise. How old?'

' 'They were students together.'

'Ah. I wonder . . . Maybe it's him.' She smiled at Mcllhenney. 'Louise has had a few male involvements in her life,' she explained. 'Warren Judd was the most serious, but that's over a while now. Yet I've known for almost as long as I've worked for her, that there was someone way back, someone who left a mark on her that ain't never worn off. I don't want to get too corny, but I've always thought of him as the love of her life.

'Friday before last, she told me that she was meeting someone for dinner.

She didn't say who, but from the way she said it, and the way she looked ... real nervous, unlike I've ever seen her ... I knew that it was him.

'I got to get a look at this guy.'

Mcllhenney turned to Steele. 'Stevie,' he murmured. 'You'd do well to forget you ever heard any of that.

'And you too, Ms AlG.o.don. That's a part of Louise's life that you'd better keep very confidential.

'Now,' he snapped, suddenly. 'Sergeant.''Sure. Ms AlG.o.don . . .'

'Glenys.'

'Glenys then. I know already from the Metropolitan Police that you've reported a couple of people to them as, shall I say, unwelcome correspondents. They were both interviewed immediately, and they were both found to be innocent; just fans who had taken adulation a bit too far.

'Very quietly, we've confirmed already that neither of these men was in Edinburgh on Friday night. One of them is dead, and the other is a recluse who conducts almost his entire life over the Internet.

i'Can you recall what alarmed you about them?'

She shrugged. They were persistent, that's all; I thought they were possibly obsessive personalities, so I took no chances.'

'You're qualified to judge, of course,' said Steele, casually, 'having a degree in psychology.'

'How did you know that?' she shot back.

'Same way we know that your boyfriend, Clarence Sparrow, is a solicitor and a West Ham season ticket holder. We take our job seriously, Glenys; I'm sure you do too. I appreciate your ability to make sound judgements about Ms Bankier's correspondence. Can you tell me how you base these?

'First of all, what volume of mail does she receive?'

'Probably less than you'd think,' the secretary told him. 'Louise has a mature following, and the older you get, the less likelier you are to write fan mail. These days more and more of it comes over the Internet. Louise has a website, and there's an e-mail address attached.

'There is an official fan club, and we receive mail through that. Also there are people who just write to "Louise Bankier, London" or "Great Britain" even, and these are pa.s.sed on by the Post Office.'

'Do you get much crank stuff?'

'Very little. Most people just write to thank Louise for a particular movie, or for being like a friend to them. They ain't even looking for a reply usually, but they always get one, sometimes with a photograph, and it's always signed personally, and with a little PS message. She even insists on signing off her own e-mail, even if I draft it. I have her signature programmed in, and we can add it.