Autographs In The Rain Part 45

'Apart from that, there's only one other thing you can do, and that's pursue the possibility that this lad really is called John Steed, and that his message was badly worded but otherwise innocent.'

'I'm doing that already, sir,' Steele replied. 'The police on Tyneside have reported back to me already; they've turned up three John Steeds; one's in jail, another's in his eighties and the third is a hemiplegic.

'I even asked them to check on people named John Stead, just in case the man might have mis-typed his own surname when he sent the message.

No joy there either. I'm waiting for other forces to report back; I've asked for traces as far south as Middlesbrough, and also in London and in our own area, where the two incidents have occurred.'

'Fair enough,' said Bob Skinner, turning away from the window of the Head of CID's office. 'It all has to be done, but you'll get nothing from it.

Big Neil's first instinct was right; the name's a phoney, part of the message itself. We'll trace Mr Steed when he has another go at Louise, and not before.'

'And he'll find that difficult while she's under surveillance,' Martin suggested.

196.AUTOGRAPHS IN THE RAIN.'Agreed, but next week, Lou starts location work on her movie; that's when she'll be vulnerable. We can protect her, and we will, by blocking off the streets where they're filming; she'll have a dressing room trailer too, but she'll still be an open target to an extent.'

'What about the crew, sir?' asked Steele. 'Are they being checked out?'

'Of course they are, sergeant,' said the DCC, testily. 'DI Mcllhenney's getting a list this morning from Judd, the producer; everyone on the team from Elliott Silver, the director, right up to the tea-boy. He'll run a PNC check straight away . . .' He sighed. '. . . and come up with f.u.c.k all too, apart from a couple of pot-smokers.'

'What about Judd himself?'

Skinner frowned at Martin's question. 'He was the first one Neil checked.

He and Louise lived together for a while a few years back; they talked about getting married, but she decided that she'd had enough of that game.

Judd didn't like it, they had a major argument, and they split up, but not before he thumped her.

'She almost turned this movie down because of Mr Judd, but she liked the part, her agent pressed her and finally, he apologised. So she agreed.

'Do not worry, Andy. His was the first name out of the hat when this all blew up. He was even in the hotel on the day that smoke bomb was planted in Lou's room. But he is not the man in the hotel video and he was not John Steed in Newcastle. The physical descriptions just don't match up; the guy in the black hat is slim, and Judd's a wee bull of a fellow.

'On top of that, from the moment that he arrived at the Balmoral, all the way through their tour of Edinburgh, during their meeting afterwards, and right up to the moment he left, Lou swears that he was never out of her sight, and that Silver was with them the whole time too.'

The big DCC scowled. 'I'd love it to be Judd. It'd give me a chance to teach him not to knock women around. But it isn't.' He looked at Steele.

'So that's where we are, young Stevie; waiting for the stalker to pull another stunt. I hope he does too; I don't want him just to fade away. I want him caught.

'Now, will you excuse us, please. I have to talk to Mr Martin about something unconnected with this.'

'Of course, sir, I'll find DI Mcllhenney and give him that print.'

As the door closed behind him, Martin looked at Skinner. 'Well?' he asked.

'Yes.' A grin spread across his face. 'I've spoken to him, interviewedhim even, with the Chief Constable present. Mr Chase and his lovely wife Estelle were indeed entertained by Mrs Chase's cousin on Wednesday night.

They dined on fish soup prepared by Ms Alvarez, braised venison prepared by Mr Lander, and praline ice cream prepared by Haagen-Dazs.

'The a.s.sistant Chief Constable having consumed no alcohol all evening, he and his good lady began the drive back to Edinburgh at 12.45 a.m., leaving the young lovers slightly the worse for the third bottle of Paternina Banda Azul rioja tinto, and about to retire for the night.

'We left him pondering the possibility of being subjected to aggressive cross-examination by a hungry Advocate Depute.'''

"'That was nice of you,' laughed the Head of CID. 'It won't come to that, though. Dan phoned me a while back; Raymond Anders, of Eildon Security, who failed to turn up for his four o'clock appointment with Kath Adey yesterday, has also visited the Mellerkirk and Howdengate trout farms in unsuccessful attempts to sell them video surveillance and alarm systems.

'Every copper in the Borders is looking for him, but he's disappeared.

Dan's about to issue a press statement with a description, and an appeal for public support in tracing him.

'Looks like he could be our man.'198.58.L.

'Just like Rockefeller Plaza.' Louise Bankier looked along the ice rink, thronged with circling figures on silver skates, some steady and a.s.sured, others much less so. 'They do this every Christmas time?'

'Yes,' Neil replied. 'Skating in Princes Street Gardens; it's a tradition already, even though they've only been doing it for a few years. Nice though, especially on a day like this.' He leaned forward on the green park bench, tightening the laces of his left boot. The morning was crisp and cold, the ice hard and inviting.

Spencer and Lauren leaned on the fence at the entrance to the rink, waiting, watching as their father checked the fastenings on the s.h.i.+ny new boots which Glenys AlG.o.don had acquired for Louise the day before.

No one took any notice of them as they readied themselves to take to the ice. The actress wore tight black trousers and a heavy parka with a fur-trimmed hood so enveloping that it hid her face as effectively as a mask.

'Okay,' he said, as she leaned her weight on his outstretched left arm.

'Away you go, then.' She pushed herself away and set off, deliberately and carefully, after the children who were circling and pirouetting with fearless confidence. At the very first turn, her legs went from under her; she fell, with a b.u.mp. Lauren gasped, Spencer laughed, then Neil was beside her, helping her to her feet.

'Here,' he chuckled, 'I thought you said you could do this. I'm supposed to be looking after you; if you turn up for filming on crutches next week I'll be back on the beat.'

T can skate,' she insisted, with mock indignation. 'I'm just out of practice, that's all.'

He steadied her, his strong hands on her waist. 'Get away with you, lady, it's like riding a bike. You never forget.'

'Okay, so let me go and I'll show you.' He released her and she set off once more, slowly, but more steadily this time. He skated easily alongsideAUTOGRAPHS IN THE RAIN.her, watching her closely until finally she gathered confidence and began to move more easily.

'You're quite good,' she told him, when she felt able to speak.

'For a flat-footed copper, you mean?'

Her laugh had a breathless edge. 'If you say so.'

'I played ice hockey when I was a kid,' he replied, evenly. 'After I chucked it, I didn't skate for a while, during my porker years, but then I started roller-blading with those two, and it seemed natural to take them on to the ice and show them the real thing.'

They're really good.'

'Ah, but so am I.'

'Show me.'

'Nah. Too many people on the ice; plus, I don't want to draw attention to us.'

She saw him glancing around. 'You're always watching, aren't you?'

'Always.' At that moment, an unsteady skater, a young man, veered in their direction. Neil swung smoothly round, putting his body between the approaching figure and Louise, then catching him, steadying him and sending him gently on his way.

They skated on for around twenty minutes, Lauren and Spencer weaving patterns around them, until finally she called, 'Enough!'

They left the children to their ice ballet and skated off the rink, reclaiming their shoes from the kiosk and changing into them on their bench. That done, they leaned against the fence, watching the action on the ice, wincing as the occasional beginner came to grief.

'Hey,' she asked, glancing at him from the depths of her hood, 'what did you mean, earlier ... your porker years?'

He smiled, with a touch of shyness. 'I used to be a far bigger boy than I am now. Olive used to go on at me about my weight. My father died of a heart attack at Spence's christening and she was always worried that the same might happen to me.