by Owen Mullen
Geddes announced they were taking a break, turned the recorder off and the policemen stepped into the corridor. The DS said, ‘This guy’s fragile. Going to take a while. Haven’t even got to the crime scene.’
Taylor voiced what both men understood. ‘Still have to charge him and pass it to the PF. Let it be somebody else’s shout.’
Geddes’ mobile rang; he answered it. When the call ended he turned to the DI.
‘Well, well.’
Taylor raised an eyebrow. ‘What?’
‘Joe Melia wasn’t working.’
‘So?’
‘His last job ended four months ago. He got sacked.’
The senior detective wasn’t in the mood. ‘Tell me.’
‘From Crawford Cars, would you believe?’
Taylor said, ‘Get somebody over there to take a statement.’
‘Already done. Lawson’s on her way.’
* * *
Crawford sat forward, shoulders slumped, eyes heavy, but he seemed calmer. Geddes turned the recorder back on and was about to pick up where he’d left off when he thought better of it. In the seat next to him DI Taylor folded his arms across his chest. For now at least, it was Geddes’ show.
The DS said, ‘We’ll come back to how you came to follow him to the Lowther Hills.’ He looked at his notebook. ‘How many dealerships do you have, Mr Crawford?’
Crawford paused before answering. ‘Twenty-four.’
‘Where are they?’
‘Nine in Glasgow, seven in the Edinburgh area, two in Aberdeen and one each in Ayr, Dundee, East Kilbride, Paisley, Motherwell and Hamilton.’
‘So it would it be fair to say you’re a successful man.’
It wasn’t a question. Crawford answered it anyway. ‘In 2017 I was voted businessman of the year by the Glasgow Chamber of Commerce. So yes.’
‘How many people do you employ?’
‘All told, including the service division, rental and leasing: three hundred, three-fifty, something like that.’
‘How well do you know them?’
Crawford was unfazed. ‘Apart from a handful of guys who’ve been with me for years, I don’t. The managers manage the units, I manage the business.’
Roxburgh earned his corn. ‘I’m at a loss to understand where this is going. In case you’ve forgotten, my client is the victim here. His personal circumstances have no relevance.’
Geddes ignored the lawyer and spoke to Crawford, reading from his notes. ‘So you’re not familiar with a salesman who joined the Airbles Road showroom in Motherwell last October and was let go in February?’
Crawford said, ‘You’ve lost me.’
Roxburgh interrupted in lawyer-speak. ‘How is this germane, Detective?’
Crawford gestured to silence the lawyer and nodded at Geddes to continue.
‘A bit of a rising star before he got found out. The top salesman in January.’
‘So why did we let him go?’
‘Turns out he was in business for himself; cutting the margins to the bone and doing side deals with some of the customers. Nice scam while it lasted. Bound to catch up with him and it did.’
Crawford was defensive. ‘His references must’ve checked out or we would never have taken him on.’ He made a dismissive sound in his throat. ‘Mind you. References? These days? Telling the truth means opening a can of worms. Employers keep their comments neutral and kick the problem down the road for somebody else to deal with.’
Geddes doodled on the pad in front of him. ‘Melia wasn’t prosecuted. I wonder why?’
‘That’s a no-brainer. Can answer it without moving out of this chair. The manager who hired him was covering his arse. When what this guy was doing was flagged up he decided to get rid as quickly and quietly as possible. Don’t blame him. Would’ve done the same to protect the business. “Conman Car Dealer” isn’t the sort of publicity we need. Though I don’t understand what this has to do with anything.’
‘Would it surprise you to know that salesman was Joseph Melia?’
The policemen could almost see the wheels turning behind Crawford’s eyes, demanding his memory reveal anything he might know about this man. The lawyer seized on what he was hearing. ‘So you’re saying the abduction was motivated by revenge?’
Geddes wasn’t prepared to concede that much. ‘I’m saying the man who abducted Mr Crawford’s wife was a former employee.’
‘But if this ne’er-do-well had an axe to grind, then surely it isn’t a stretch to assume this was a reprisal?’
The detective ignored him and turned to Crawford. ‘Did you receive a demand for money?’
‘Obviously not or the police would’ve been brought in.’
‘Not everyone goes down that road. So what did Melia hope to achieve?’
The lawyer jumped in. ‘How can my client possibly answer that?’
Geddes let it go. ‘Buchanan Street. Let’s get back to it. You were saying your wife pointed a man out and you wouldn’t listen to her.’
Crawford drew a weary hand over his face; his head went down. He looked up at the policemen, willing them to understand how it had been. ‘Mackenzie’s a lovely person, but when she drinks she changes. The things she says. Talks as if she hates me. Threatening to leave is par for the course. I suppose I’d had enough of it. I’m ashamed to say I lost patience with her.’ The recorder would capture his story but not the expression on his face. ‘She ran out of the restaurant. I caught up with her in the street. She was shouting. People were staring. Then she saw him. I saw him too.’
‘Melia?’
‘Yes. Mackenzie said he was following her.’
DI Taylor spoke for the first time. ‘So why didn’t you believe her?’
‘He waved. He waved at her.’
‘And you assumed they knew each other?’
Desperation choked him. ‘I thought it was a set-up. I thought he was waiting for her.’ Crawford’s eyes were wild with regret. ‘Later at the party she confessed he was her lover in front of everyone. They all heard her, ask them. When we got home she screamed it at me. The next day she announced she was leaving.’
He threw up his hands, frustrated and angry, appealing to them. ‘What the fuck was I supposed to think?’
Geddes waited a moment before lobbing a hand grenade into the interview. ‘Do you always carry a knife, Mr Crawford?’
The lawyer seized on the question. ‘I demand you retract that. May I remind you again my client’s wife is the victim here?’
Geddes didn’t miss a beat. ‘Why did you have a blade with you?’
Roxburgh banged his fist on the table. ‘That’s an outrageous assumption.’
Crawford put his hand on his arm; his eyes met the policeman’s. ‘The knife wasn’t mine. It belonged to that bastard. If I hadn’t got there when I did we’d be having a different conversation.’
* * *
Blair and Adele Gardiner needed to talk, and it wasn’t going to be easy. While Mackenzie remained unconscious they avoided it. Gavin watched his sister sitting by the bed, noticing the strain she was under and understanding why. Adele had been Mackenzie’s harshest critic, irritated by what she believed was the adult manifestation of parental over-indulgence. The events in the house in the Lowther Hills had changed her mind. She held her sister’s hand, gently caressing it, whispering. Blair stood behind her. She wouldn’t have to search to find him – he was there.
Monica wasn’t. She was at home looking after Adam and Richard and Alice. Gavin missed her. Suddenly, Adele cried out and startled them. ‘She moved! She moved her fingers!’
Blair knew the guilt his wife was suffering and how much she needed it to be true. He chose his words. ‘Are you sure?’
She turned to Gavin. ‘She moved her fingers.’
Mackenzie’s unlined features said it wasn’t so. Adele saw the doubt on his face and reacted. ‘You think I imagined it. I didn’t. I really didn’t.’
Frustration turned to anger. ‘Call the nurse,
Blair.’
He pressed the buzzer by the side of the bed. A moment later a nurse arrived and made a show of taking Mackenzie’s pulse. The others waited for her verdict and were disappointed.
‘We’ll keep monitoring her.’
* * *
Mackenzie Crawford was still unconscious in the ACCU in Wishaw Hospital. Her husband should be at her bedside instead of a room in Aikenhead Road police station. The last time he’d seen her was in the basement in the Lowther Hills. Geddes and Taylor had no desire to drag the interview out.
The DS said, ‘Describe how you came to be at the house.’
Tiredness made Crawford irritable. He barked his reply. ‘I saw the guy from Buchanan Street…Melia…in Glasgow. Behind the wheel of a Toyota at traffic lights on Cathedral Street. I made a U-turn and went after him.’
‘Why?’ In light of what came later the question seemed stupid.
‘Why?’ Derek Crawford spat out the word like it had a bad taste. ‘Why do you think? Mackenzie was with him.’
‘But you’d washed your hands of her, hadn’t you?’
He smiled a sour self-deprecating smile. ‘Did I say that? I suppose I did. I was worried about her. The whole family was worried.’
‘You wanted to be sure she was all right?’
‘No, there was no reason to think she wasn’t all right. Mackenzie’s family has been torn apart by this. It was a chance to put their minds at rest. For me…I just needed to know.’
‘So that’s when you called your brother-in-law?’
‘Yes.’
‘What was going through your mind?’
Crawford drew Geddes a sharp look. ‘I wasn’t thinking of killing him if that’s what you mean.’
‘I’m not suggesting you were, Mr Crawford.’
Roxburgh touched his client’s arm and he got himself back under control.
‘It’s hard to remember. The further we went the more I wondered where the hell he was taking me. When he turned off at Abington and headed into the back of beyond…it’s another world…couldn’t imagine Mackenzie living out there. I saw the car parked outside a house with the bloody roof caved in.’
Crawford took a minute before he went on. ‘You’ve been there, you’ve seen it.’ He shuddered and rubbed his injured arm. ‘When I went to the basement he was standing over her with a knife.’ He looked at Taylor and then at Geddes. ‘Christ only knows what he was going to do.’
‘Did he attack you or did you attack him?’
‘He came at me, and I knew I had to take that knife away from him before he had a chance to use it.’
‘What happened after that?’
The lawyer started to speak and changed his mind.
‘There was a struggle, that’s all I remember…until Gavin pulled me away. That’s when I saw what he’d done to Mackenzie.’
Crawford bent over the table and broke down, sobbing uncontrollably. Andrew Geddes didn’t wait for the DI’s say-so, he switched off the recorder.
The interview was over.
* * *
An hour later, DS Geddes explained to a shattered Derek Crawford what was going to happen. Crawford’s eyes were empty and lifeless. Geddes said, ‘You’ll be formally charged with the murder of Joseph Melia.’
‘Murder? You’re doing me for murder? You saw what he did. Doesn’t that matter?’
The detective put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. ‘In a case like this the police always bring a murder charge. Standard procedure. The procurator fiscal will make the final decision.’ He looked hard into Crawford’s ravaged face. ‘And to answer your question – it does matter. In fact, it matters a great deal. Under the circumstances we won’t be opposing bail. This time tomorrow you’ll be able to visit you wife.’
Crawford didn’t raise his head and was taken to the cells. The next afternoon he would appear in court. Out in the corridor, the three men were sombre. What they’d witnessed had been rough – on all of them. Roxburgh spoke to the detectives with more than a trace of flint in his voice, appreciating they had a job to do but not liking them any better for it.
‘We’ll be entering a plea of not guilty and of course, requesting bail. The physical and psychological trauma Mrs Crawford has suffered may well have repercussions which publicity would exacerbate, inhibiting her recovery, and taking into consideration the damage to my client’s business reputation, I’ll also be asking the judge to impose a reporting ban.’ Roxburgh nodded stiffly and left.
Geddes checked his watch. DI Taylor said, ‘Caught me off-guard with the knife, have to say. Wasn’t expecting that approach.’
‘Just making sure, Sir. If Melia had been his wife’s lover, Crawford would’ve had quite a resentment going. In the circumstances it was a whole lot worse. According to PC Lawson, the manager who fired him clearly remembers that when he told him he was out, Joe Melia was calm. Derek Crawford played no part. He wasn’t involved.’
Geddes asked his superior for direction. ‘When do you want me to get the brother-in-law in? He’s an eye-witness.’
‘We have his initial statement, don’t we?’ Geddes told him they had. ‘Then there’s no rush. Let’s see how it goes after tomorrow.’
‘Any idea what side the PF will come down on?’
‘My guess is they won’t proceed. It’s an open and shut self-defence. Culpable homicide at best.’
‘You sure about that, sir?’
‘Not sure about anything these days. Are you?’
Day Fourteen
Derek Crawford walked out the side entrance of the court building and took a deep breath. The taste of freedom was a cliche but even after one night in the cells it was true. And it was sweet.
Not far away, traffic raced from Trongate down Saltmarket, while across Clyde Street the river sparkled in the afternoon sunshine. It had gone well. His lawyer’s request for bail had been granted, unopposed by the police and, by order of the magistrate, a reporting ban was in place. And thank God. The last thing he needed was to have this plastered on the front page of every bloody rag. The fewer people who knew the sooner they could get past it.
Roxburgh joined him full of cheerful reassurance and placed a friendly hand on his shoulder, pleased with the work he’d done on his client’s behalf. Crawford shrugged it away. The rejection didn’t register. Roxburgh said, ‘Only the first obstacle but it’s better to have it behind rather than in front of us, eh?’
‘What happens now?’
‘Depends on the procurator fiscal. If he decides to proceed to trial we’ll start preparing our defence. I believe – and it’s only my view – he’ll conclude there’s no charge to answer and drop the case. In any event, I wouldn’t be overly concerned if I were you.’
‘But you’re not me.’
Crawford took off his jacket and untied the bandage on his arm; the wound was already healing. His lawyer hadn’t learned his lesson and offered an unwelcome opinion.
‘Safer with it on I should’ve thought.’
Crawford ignored him and threw the soiled cloth on the ground. ‘Reminds me of what I want to forget.’
Roxburgh pretended to empathise. ‘Quite so.’
‘The policemen were in court. Is that significant?’
‘Not particularly. It’s not unusual. No role at this stage, of course. Whether they ever do will be determined by others. You haven’t got a car. Can I give you a lift anywhere?’
‘Yes. Wishaw.’
DS Geddes saw them leaving and hurried to catch up. ‘Mr Crawford?’
It was too soon to have forgotten the interview and Crawford eyed him suspiciously. Geddes said, ‘Got good news for you. Your wife’s regaining consciousness.’
* * *
Gavin and Adele had stayed in the hospital overnight, taking turns at trying to sleep. Neither had managed more than a few minutes and they were exhausted. The sight of their sister blinking at them made it worthwhile.
It had been a long vigil, spent mostly in silence. At 2am. Mackenzie�
��s fingers tightened round Adele’s hand and this time Gavin saw it, too. Nothing else happened until a quarter to six when she moved her head – not much; a fraction. But enough to breathe hope into their tired bodies.
Adele was elated. ‘She’s coming round. She’s coming out of it. Thank God.’
Gavin held his enthusiasm in check. He’d been in the basement. He’d seen what Adele hadn’t. She couldn’t know the horror Mackenzie had endured or begin to guess the aftermath. The hospital staff were cheerful and gentle but wouldn’t be drawn on their patient’s condition. While Gavin went to make a few calls. Adele stayed by Mackenzie’s side until Doctor Chilolo arrived on his rounds and a nurse asked her to leave.
Downstairs in the tearoom she talked excited gibberish for Scotland. Her brother listened, understanding that more than any of them she needed it to be all right.
‘How soon do you think they’ll let her go home?’
The question was unrealistic, impossible to answer, and an indication of how divorced from the reality of the situation she was.
‘No idea. We have to understand how serious this is. She was in that dungeon for nine days. Whatever the damage is, it may not be only physical. It’ll take time.’
Adele brushed her brother’s dark speculation aside. ‘Of course. But love will make her well, and there’s no shortage of that.’
Gavin recognised denial when he heard it. If only it was so simple. His fears were rooted in the memory of the derelict house: coming down the wooden stairs, seeing Mackenzie unconscious on the bed and Derek in a fight to the death with the man who’d abducted his wife. Dwelling on what she’d suffered before they arrived was more than he could handle. He said, ‘The doctor will decide. We’ll be led by him.’
That wasn’t enough for her. ‘Yes, but I’m asking what you think.’
He struggled to be patient, knowing she wasn’t ready for the truth, whatever it turned out to be. ‘Honestly, I haven’t a bloody clue. She’s coming round. Let’s take it one step at a time, eh?’