A Brush With Death

by Quintin Jardine

  ‘Very,’ he replied. ‘I found the victim, and was involved in identifying your potential client. You shouldn’t do it, but your associate could, if you don’t discuss the case with her at all . . . and if you think she’s up to it.’

  ‘Cecily? She’s been straining at the leash waiting for something like this. I take it that her client speaks English?’

  ‘As well as she does,’ he assured her. ‘He’s a TV personality of sorts. And for your ears, not hers, as she has to come to it fresh, he is also as guilty as sin.’

  Forty-Two

  In Skinner’s working lifetime, Scottish lawyers, like cops, had become younger as a group, bright young things, with an increasing proportion of them being female. Cecily Marsden was not one of that generation; she was in her late forties, and had returned to practice after an extended career break to raise her children.

  She had joined Alexis Skinner’s growing practice to handle most of the sheriff court work that came its way, Legal Aid summary cases that mostly required two pleas, ‘Guilty, my lord,’ followed by mitigating circumstances. Alex had taken her on as an associate because she had seemed to be a safe pair of hands, but had realised quickly that she was more than that and had come to value her opinion.

  She was all business as she stepped out of the Pitt Street interview room to face Mann and Provan, dark suited, ash-blond hair perfectly arranged, cut short to fit under a wig whenever an old-style sheriff required it to be worn. She and Swords/Mechikov had been closeted for twenty minutes.

  ‘My client is ready for you, officers,’ she said. ‘One thing before we begin. He wishes to be addressed as Mr Swords; that’s the name under which he was naturalised.’

  ‘We’ll call him Ishmael if it gets his co-operation,’ the DS grunted. Both the DI and the lawyer stared at him. ‘What?’ he exclaimed. ‘Have ye never read Moby Dick, or are you surprised that Ah have?’

  ‘I’ll never stop being surprised by you, Dan,’ Mann said. ‘Sorry, Mrs Marsden; my colleague’s an acquired taste. Your man will be charged under both names, so what we call him on the record doesn’t matter to us. Before we go in there, is there anything you want to ask us?’

  ‘Will Mr Skinner be here?’ the solicitor responded. ‘I understand that he’s involved in the investigation in some way.’

  ‘He’ll be a Crown witness when this goes to trial, so it wouldn’t be appropriate for him to be in there.’

  ‘What’s his locus, exactly? He’s not a police officer any longer. My client seems to think he’s working for an insurer.’

  ‘That’s not something we can discuss. When we get to the stage of formal disclosure to the defence, you’ll see the extent of his involvement. Are we ready?’

  ‘Almost,’ Marsden said. ‘Can you tell me whether the fiscal is immovable about the charge? Is he wedded to prosecuting for murder?’

  ‘The only betting there’ll be on this one,’ Provan told her, ‘will be on how long the jury takes to convict. I’ll have fifty quid on forty minutes maximum, and it’ll be unanimous. I’ve been in CID for a quarter of a century and I’ve never taken a stronger case tae court. That’s me being frank,’ he added, ‘because you’re connected tae Big Bob’s daughter.’

  ‘Thanks for that courtesy, Detective Sergeant,’ she replied, looking from him to Mann. ‘I asked the question because there are circumstances in which my client might be prepared to plead guilty. He has certain information that might be of interest to you in a broader context, even if it relates only indirectly to your case.’

  ‘Plead guilty to what?’ the DI countered.

  ‘To a charge of culpable homicide as opposed to murder.’

  ‘The problem with that is, we believe he was surprised by the victim returning to his room and catching your client in the act of stealing his computer. He killed him after a struggle. You can argue it wasn’t premeditated, but it happened in the course of a crime, and that’s premeditation.’

  ‘I could argue that my client was only defending himself against a younger, fitter man.’

  ‘We have information about your client’s early career, before he left Russia. You might not want to go there. Look, to save time, I’ll tell you that we also have him on CCTV, approaching the hotel, and we’ve matched fingerprints taken in Newcastle by the arresting officers with those found in the room and on an entrance hatch on the roof of the building. In addition, yesterday evening we recovered the victim’s computer and phone in the hotel where your client was staying. We have his prints on those too. That’s how done he is, Mrs Marsden.

  ‘Look, you know we can’t make a deal,’ Mann concluded, ‘only the fiscal can do that. But we can make a recommendation, depending on what your client has to say. That’s the best I can offer at this stage. If you want, you can go back in there and put it to Swords, if that’s what he wants us to call him. He doesn’t want to piss us about, though; there could be a difference of ten years’ jail time in the outcome. Make sure he knows that.’

  The lawyer sighed, then nodded. ‘Give me a minute.’

  The minute stretched into three, until Marsden reappeared and gave another nod. The detectives followed her into the interview room, where their suspect was waiting. It was difficult for them to judge his height, as he was seated, but the forearms that protruded from the rolled-up sleeves of his white shirt suggested that his stocky build was more muscle than fat. As he peered at them, his eyes were so puffy that Provan was momentarily suspicious that his Geordie colleagues might have given him a slap, until the paleness of his face brought him to realise that the man was showing the effects of lack of sleep. He had a grizzled stubble on his chin that was at least two days old, and as they seated themselves across the table from him, the detectives realised that he was as badly in need of a wash as he was of a shave.

  ‘Welcome back to Scotland, Mr Swords,’ the DI said. ‘We haven’t met before, but we know who you are . . . both of you. To complete the formalities for the recorders, I am Detective Inspector, Acting DCI, Charlotte Mann, and my colleague is Detective Sergeant, Acting DI, Daniel Provan. I believe you were cautioned and advised of your rights when you were arrested at Newcastle airport, is that correct?’

  ‘Yes,’ the prisoner replied, his mouth tight.

  ‘You were told also that you were being detained in connection with the unlawful killing on Monday of Aldorino Moscardinetto, in a hotel called the Stadium in West Campbell Street, Glasgow. We believe that you strangled Mr Moscardinetto with a curtain tie-back. Do you wish to make any statement about that accusation?’

  Swords glanced to his right, at Cecily Marsden. She spoke for him. ‘My client will offer no comment at this time on the killing. However, he does wish to make a voluntary statement about the break-in and the theft.’

  ‘He’s aware it may be seen as an admission of guilt?’

  ‘As an admission to those charges, yes.’

  ‘Very good.’ Mann gazed across the table. ‘But before we go there, I’d like to ask him a couple of questions about a matter separate to this investigation. He hasn’t been charged with that, but we’d like to give him the chance to eliminate himself as a suspect. He hasn’t been cautioned so technically I’m free to do that anyway, but in these circumstances I’d like your approval on the record.’

  ‘You have it,’ Marsden agreed, ‘on the basis that I will intervene if I think you’ve crossed over.’

  ‘We won’t,’ Provan said, looking directly at the prisoner and seeing nothing but curiosity. ‘Mr Swords, last Friday evening, you attended a social gathering in a place called the Blacksmith, right?’

  ‘Right,’ he agreed. ‘It was Leo Speight’s official retirement party for his friends and family. He asked me to be master of ceremonies.’

  ‘Ye know that a few hours afterwards Mr Speight was found dead in his house in Ayr?’

  ‘Yes, I know, God keep him.’

>   ‘I’m sure he will. When did you leave the party?’

  Swords frowned, but otherwise looked unconcerned. ‘It must have been not long after eight,’ he replied. ‘I told Gino Butler, Leo’s guy, that I’d have to leave early as I had a gig in London at a darts tournament next day. You can check. I was there; it started at two thirty.’

  ‘Aye, we know, but our clever young DC Gowans can place you at Beedham’s hotel at half past midnight. What we don’t know is where you were during that four-hour gap, or how you got to London, ’cos you didnae fly out of Glasgow.’

  ‘No,’ he shook his head, ‘I didn’t. I flew through Edinburgh, eight o’clock flight Saturday morning, but I booked as Mechikov, because the card I used to pay was in that name. I am naturalised British, but I am Russian too, by birth. I have dual nationality. As for that three hours that you’re worried about, I don’t like the chef at the Blacksmith. Last time I ate there I was sick, and with my flight next morning I couldn’t take the chance of it happening again. So I didn’t eat there. Instead I stopped in Glasgow on the way back to Beedham’s and I had a curry in a restaurant called Shish Mahal. You can check; I’m known there so they’ll remember me. Also I paid with a card, another one, a Billy Swords card.’

  Provan grunted. He leaned towards Mann and whispered, ‘Looks like that big bugger might be right. The two murders arenae connected.’

  Her face impassive, she looked straight ahead. ‘Thank you for that,’ she said. ‘That was helpful. Feel free to make your statement now, in your own time.’

  Swords nodded. ‘First of all,’ he began, ‘I don’t know why this thing was wanted, this laptop. I don’t know and I didn’t ask, because I thought it might be better if I didn’t know, just in case something went wrong . . . as it has done. I was told to go and get it, that was all.’

  ‘By whom?’ the DI asked. ‘For the record,’ she added, with a nod to Marsden.

  ‘By a man named Bryce Stoddart; he’s the head of Stoddart Promotions, the crew who promoted all of Leo Speight’s fights. Even the one in Russia against Yevgeny Brezinski. The co-promoter there was a Russian outfit called Zirka, but it was the Brits who called the shots, specifically Leo Speight himself. As I said, I don’t know why Bryce wanted it, but he did, and he said it was urgent. He gave me the man’s name, his hotel and his room number, and told me that he wouldn’t be there for a couple of hours in the afternoon, because he had a meeting with Gino Butler. I didn’t want to use the front entrance of the hotel in case there was a camera, and so I studied it from the lane and saw that I could get in across the roof. I recovered the laptop from the safe – these things are easy to crack – and also obtained the target’s phone as a bonus. Then I returned to Beedham’s and handed them over to Bryce. I stayed there overnight, but when I heard that the man was dead, I thought I had better make myself scarce. I left my car in a car park near the Central station, took a train to Manchester, and then another to Newcastle, where I was arrested. That is it; Bryce Stoddart is the man you want.’

  ‘We have him, Billy,’ Provan told him. ‘He’s being held in this building after we found the laptop and phone in his safe. We also have Gene Alderney under arrest. She’s being held on suspicion of passport fraud, for starters. We’d be interested to hear anything you know about her.’

  Swords surprised them by laughing. ‘You have her?’ he exclaimed. ‘If I tell you about her, will it help me?’

  ‘We can’t make that promise,’ the DS replied, ‘but if you don’t tell us everything you know . . . You’re a smart man, work it out.’

  He looked at his solicitor once more; she nodded.

  ‘Gene came to Britain after the Brezinski fight. She ran Zirka; Yevgeny was a simple guy, only a puppet. When Leo knocked him out, Zirka was in trouble, financially and I think in other ways I never knew about. The Stoddarts – father and son it was before Benny retired – encouraged her to get out of there and move to London; they even arranged a new identity for her. She didn’t keep her old name like I did; she became Gene all the way.’

  ‘Hold on,’ Mann called out. ‘Zirka’s still active in a small way. Who runs it now? Yevgeny?’

  ‘I do,’ Swords replied. ‘You’re right, it isn’t much, but I keep the name alive for Gene. I can go back and forward to Moscow as I choose. I’m Mechikov there, Swords here.’

  ‘And when she was there, who was Gene Alderney?’

  ‘Her name was Lyudmila Brezinskova. She’s Yevgeny’s mother.’

  Forty-Three

  ‘Where’s Detective Inspector Mann?’ Moss Lee demanded. ‘She’s the SIO in this case; we should be speaking to her, not you.’

  ‘She’s recused herself from this interview. Cracking word that, isn’t it,’ Provan observed. ‘Sounds very American. She’s sittin’ it out because she feels that it wouldn’t be appropriate with the two of you being on opposite sides in another matter. You’re stuck with me and Detective Constable Gowans, whether you like it or not. To be frank, I don’t like it myself, Mr Lee, but it’s my job and I’ll do it.’

  ‘You realise that was recorded,’ the lawyer said. ‘Your superiors will hear that remark.’

  The DS chuckled. ‘A shit I could not give; they’ll hear that as well, I’m sure. You can leave if you like, but your client stays.’ His gaze left Lee and moved to the man by his side. ‘Now, do we get down to business, Mr Stoddart? You should understand, this conversation is between you and me, not us and him.’

  The promoter nodded. ‘I know that, but I’m still going to take his advice, which is that I should make no comment at all.’

  ‘Your choice,’ the DS conceded. ‘I don’t care whether you do or don’t. Either way, you’re going to be charged with conspiracy to steal a laptop computer and an iPhone from Aldorino Moscardinetto, and you’re also going to be charged with his murder.’

  ‘His murder?’ Stoddart squealed.

  ‘Of course. Billy Swords will be charged with that, and so will you.’

  ‘I never told him to kill the guy!’ Lee tugged at his client’s sleeve but he shook him off.

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ Provan told him, not bothering to conceal his smug satisfaction. ‘You sent him out on a criminal enterprise. The Crown will argue that makes you as guilty as him; art and part, as Scottish law puts it. Isn’t that right, Mr Lee? You’re lucky you’re no’ in England; we cannae charge you with being an accessory after the fact as well, because we don’t have them up here. What we have will do fine, though.’

  ‘Okay, I’ll co-operate,’ Stoddart sighed.

  ‘It’s a few hours too late for that. You were given every chance to come clean earlier on today, but you didn’t. Mr Swords got in first, and that’s how it works.’

  ‘You mean he gets off for grassing on me?’

  ‘Was “grassing” common parlance at Harrow?’ the DS chuckled. ‘Oh no, he gets charged as well. It might get interesting, though, if the Crown decides to accept his guilty plea to culpable homicide; that’s manslaughter to you English folk. That usually carries a fixed-term sentence, not life. You could be tried separately from him and be convicted of murder even though you were nowhere near the place.’

  ‘That’s unlikely, Mr Provan,’ Lee protested. ‘You’re trying to intimidate my client.’

  ‘And succeeding, from the smell in here,’ he replied cheerfully.

  Stoddart was trembling. ‘I’ll tell you everything and take my chances,’ he said.

  ‘I really don’t think—’ his lawyer began.

  ‘I don’t care what you think or otherwise,’ the promoter shouted. ‘In fact, you can leave now.’

  ‘No!’ Provan snapped, surprising himself and astonishing DC Gowans at his side. ‘He stays. I’m not having this blown on some technicality. Get on with it, Mr Stoddart; say what you have to.’

  The man drew a deep breath, then he began. ‘You’ve seen a copy of
the video we found on the laptop. You’ve seen me on it, you’ve seen Butler, Trudi, Gordon and also Gene’s intemperate outburst. We were all asked separately if we’d contribute to research for what Moscardinetto told us was a boxing documentary. We didn’t know that Leo was involved, and we sure as hell didn’t know that he’d been interviewed. Our first clue to that came when Moscardinetto asked me about the offer made to Leo to throw the Brezinski fight. That was only known to three people other than me: my dad, who is beyond any memories these days; Gene Alderney, who made the fucking offer . . .’ He broke off. ‘Her real name—’ he began, but Provan stopped him.

  ‘We know who she is; Swords told us that.’

  ‘Yeah,’ the promoter sighed, ‘he would, wouldn’t he. The third person was Leo himself. That was when the alarm bells started to ring.’

  ‘Did Gino Butler not know?’

  ‘No, never. Leo warned me that he never should; when he felt the need to warn you about something, you heeded it. Anyway, when Moscardinetto turned up at the farewell event, those alarm bells turned into a full-volume siren. Then when Leo died . . . fuck’s sake, we were bricking it that everything would come out. Gene and I decided that we needed to get hold of the laptop Moscardinetto had with him on Friday. He never put it down all night; even when he ate, he secured it to himself. We knew those interviews had to be on it, so we told Billy to steal it for us. Billy has previous on that sort of thing, as you probably know by now. When the Italian interviewed us, he’d given us his card with a mobile number on it. I cleared the way for Billy – or thought I had – by sending the guy a text that was supposed to be from Gino, asking him to meet Gino at his office at half past four. Moscardinetto texted me back, saying he would. I don’t know what happened to stop him; whatever it was, he walked in on Billy opening his hotel safe. There was a fight; Billy told me he subdued him, that was all.’

  ‘It sure was for the Italian,’ Moss Lee grunted, unable to keep silent even as a spectator.