by Zach Abrams
“I can speak to you any way I like. So far I've not lost my temper and I've been very restrained. I can assure you, Sir, you don't want that to change. Now, if you really have some authority then I suggest that other than the employees we identify, your security and other essential staff, all the rest of the employees are sent home to give greater opportunity for my team to gather evidence in the course of the day. Now what's your name?”
As Alex was speaking, the man's face was growing even brighter and the vein on his neck pulsed visibly. His hands were shaking with rage and his eyes looked upwards to Alex's face as if trying to burn their way through him.
“I'm Quentin Burns,” he said, then he turned away and thumped his fist on the table as he sat back down.
A second figure approached Alex, but this one was more respectful. “Good morning, Sir. I'm Sandy Johnston, I'm the security supervisor and I was the one who found the body and called it in. I take it you'll want to talk to me, then I can help with the interviews if you like.”
“I'm pleased to meet you, Sandy, although I'd have preferred different circumstances.” He extended his hand and Sandy shook it enthusiastically.
“You're right. I'd like to interview you. We've still to ascertain the cause of death, but for the time being it can be considered suspicious. Winters has told me that you've been a great help already. You're a key witness and you can also brief me on who's who in this operation with a bit of background too. But you must realise you're no longer a cop and you can't be present when we interview anyone else.”
“Of course, I'll do anything I can.”
A schedule was set up planning the order of interviews and who would conduct them. A number of uniformed officers had arrived and were assisting with the organisation.
Rooms were identified where the interviews would be conducted. Hector's private office was left vacant to enable the scene a crime team to conduct a thorough inspection. If only to assert his authority, Alex decided to commandeer Quentin Burns's office and, accompanied by Phil Morrison, he selected Sandy as an obvious first choice and called him for the first interview.
Chapter 2
The executives' offices were all on the first floor above the reception, and Quentin's office overlooked the main gate. It was large and opulently adorned. All the walls were covered to ceiling height either by wooden shelving or wood panelling. Everything was a rich cherry-wood colour with the exception of the frames of the large windows which took up most of the wall facing the entrance door. These looked as though they had recently been replaced using white uPVC, although the ledges remained consistent with the rest of the room.
On the left wall to the side of the windows was a substantial timber fireplace and in front of the window sat an ornately carved wooden desk with matching armchair. The legs on both were scrolled and the desk's surface was protected by a plate glass cover. The set looked to be eighteenth century and Alex guessed they must be worth a fortune. In front of the fireplace were a further two, stout armchairs, also vintage but not of the same age or quality. The opposite wall was covered ceiling to floor with a bookcase filled with leather bound texts. Close to the remaining wall, beside the entrance, was a solid table surrounded by six chairs, not quite to the standard of the desk but nevertheless an imposing piece. Above the table hung an oil portrait depicting a man who had all the trappings of being wealthy, strong and influential. He was dressed in Victorian garb and had dark hair with flowing side-locks. However, his jug ears and round flushed face had a distinct resemblance to Quentin Burns.
“Is there any way of getting a cup of tea around here?” Alex called as he walked across the room.
“I'll get it sorted,” Sandy offered. “Just give me a sec.”
Alex sat at the table with his back to the wall. Phil took the seat to his left and Sandy returned and pulled up a chair facing him. Phil lifted a notepad and pen from his case then pulled out a portable recorder. Switching it on, he noted and confirmed all the standard information before the interview commenced.
“Right, Sandy, I gather you were the first one to find the body?”
“That's right, Sir. I'd only clocked on a short while before and I was making a regular tour of inspection. When I got to the shop I thought it a bit odd, a lot of the shelves were empty and looking a bit untidy, then I saw the door through to the cask room wasn't closed. It all seemed very strange because that door's always kept locked and it's standard practice for the shop to be cleaned, tidied and restocked every night.
“I went through the door to the cask room and that's when I saw Mr Mathewson lying on the floor. I was pretty certain he was dead but I checked for a pulse just in case. I felt nothing and his skin was cold so I reckoned he'd been dead for some time.”
“Did you touch anything else?”
“No, Sir. I only checked his pulse then I moved away and called in `999.' Fred Winters and Bert Ferguson were here in a matter of minutes and I brought them in to see. We secured the door from the shop so there'd be only the one way in, then we took a look at the body, that's when we saw one of the kegs had a split and was leaking. Fred helped me right it and move it out the way so it wouldn't cause any damage.”
“Yeah, we realised from the smell off his uniform. Did anyone…” Alex's next question was interrupted by a loud knock on the door. Phil jumped up to pull it open.
The receptionist wheeled in an elaborate and well-laden tea trolley. She lifted bone china cups, saucers and side plates from the lower level and passed a set to each of them. A quality, silver-plated tea service was then placed on the centre of the table followed by a large plate piled high with butter shortbread and a second plate full of Tunnock's teacakes.
“Thanks, Shirley. That was perfect timing. We were just gasping for a brew,” Sandy said.
“Would you like me to pour?” she offered.
“No thanks. We can manage just fine ourselves.”
Shirley parked the trolley against the side wall and pulled the door closed behind her with enthusiastic words of gratitude ringing in her ears.
“This sure beats the sludge served in Styrofoam cups we get in the office,” Phil said while taking the initiative and serving the tea. “Do you want a break, Sir?”
“No time. There's far too much to do. We can have our tea while we keep going.” Alex carefully lifted the fragile teacup, the delicate porcelain looking incongruous, lost in his meaty hands. Much as he enjoyed the finer things in life, Alex would have felt more at home with a robust mug. Instead, he felt a little bit uncomfortable, with the dilemma of being keen to quench his thirst but being wary of crushing the crockery. He tried to refocus on the interview.
“Did anyone know Mathewson was here?”
“That's the problem. Security records show that he left at 3 o'clock yesterday afternoon when he drove out and his car's not been back in since.”
“Did he live close-by? Could he have walked?”
“He's not that far away, maybe a couple of miles, but it's not been the weather for walking and Mathewson didn't go in for unnecessary exercise at the best of times. Not unless he was posing, that is.”
“Are you sure it was him who left at three? Or could someone else just have taken his car out?”
“No, the records show it was him leaving. Besides, there were stories he had an important meeting in Glasgow.”
“Yeah, what was that about?”
“Well, you know there's been talk about the business being up for sale.”
“Sorry, Sandy, you're assuming too much. This is the first time we've been out here and it's to investigate a suspicious death. Don't assume we know about anything else that's been going on. But it could be relevant, so I'd like you to go back to the beginning and tell me what you know. I need as much background information as you can give me. How is the business structured and who's all involved. Most of it will be irrelevant but it'll help us build up a picture.”
Alex's concentration became slightly distracted as out the corner o
f his eye he caught sight of Phil trying to stuff a teacake into his mouth in one piece. Inevitably he failed and the chocolate covering broke up, spreading glutinous, white marshmallow across his lips and chin, which he then struggled to lick clean.
“For God sake man, can't you show some decorum?” he exclaimed, but was unable to keep the laughter out of his voice. “Besides, don't you know where all those calories will end up?”
“Not much worry there,” Phil replied. “When I'm not working, I'm forever running after the two wee ones.”
The words were out his mouth without thinking and he regretted them immediately when he saw a brief flash of pain showing in Alex eyes. Alex's marriage had ended a couple of years beforehand and his two sons lived with their mother with Alex only having limited opportunity to exercise his custody rights.
“I'm sorry, Sir. I didn't mean…”
“Let's stay focussed. We've got a hell of a lot to get through. Right, Sandy, what can you tell us?”
“A quick history – the Benlochy Distillery was first set up here on this site in the first half of the nineteenth century. There's stories about an illegal still on this same site going back long before that. I don't know if it's true but it's something to do with the burn flowing past the door. There's also talk of a natural spring just the other side of the hill. Anyway, the distillery was created by Samuel Burns and it's been a family business ever since. His grandson was also a Samuel Burns and that's his portrait up on the wall.”
Alex turned to again examine the picture occupying a large section of the wall. The subject was an austere looking man standing in front of what was now the main building. He was dressed in a dark velvet cape and holding a cane in his right hand and a book, possibly a bible, in his left.
“It's been there for the last hundred years and more.” Sandy continued, “His great-grandson is Daniel Burns. It was always a good business but Mr Daniel really built it up over the last thirty years or so. He increased production and added another still. He modernised the place and built storage. He had the brand recognised as one of the best known, single malt whiskies in the world. There are three main marketing brands, the 12, 15 and 18 year old. But there's a whole load of other specialities as well, sometimes using different types of cask. Also there are bulk sales for supermarket and blend products. On top of that, we have whiskies which have been bottled in different years and they're sometimes supplied to collectors and clubs. The 12, 15 and 18 are the number of years the whisky is left to mature in the casks before it gets bottled because, unlike wine, it doesn't continue to mature in the bottle.”
Sandy's pride in being associated with the product was obvious. Phil was fascinated with his explanation. Alex was already aware of much of what he was being told and, much as he too was interested in what he was hearing, he was aware it wasn't what he needed now.
“Thanks, Sandy. We'd like to hear more about the product but let's leave that part until later. Tell us more about the people for just now.”
“Yes, of course, Sir. Sorry, I was getting a bit carried away. When Daniel took over, he owned or controlled most of the shareholding, but as part of the growth strategy he allowed in some outside investors. Even so, the family still controlled the vast majority. Some years ago he got involved in tax planning and a lot of the shares went into a family trust and others were distributed to his three children. Georgina is the oldest, that's Hector Mathewson's wife. Then there's Quentin who you met a few minutes ago and his young brother Stanley. They were each given an equal number of shares so they had some of the ownership, but Daniel used to be a bit of a tyrant and he kept absolute control himself.”
“How do you know all of this? Is it public knowledge?”
“It used to be very confidential but it all came out a couple of years back when Daniel took ill. As I said, Daniel was a bit of a tyrant and he kept control of absolutely everything. Georgina worked in the business and used to look after the office. After she married, Hector came to work here too. He was an accountant, at least that's what he claimed but he didn't show much sign of it. He had no idea about controlling money but he certainly knew how to spend it. Georgina gave up working when her children were born and more's the pity because she knew what she was doing in a way that Hector never did. Quentin's always worked here and he's the director of sales and marketing.”
“What about Stanley?”
“He never wanted to be involved. He's a lot younger than the other two. He wanted to go to university and study medicine and he had the grades to do it but Daniel wouldn't let him and insisted he come in and learn the business. He was smart too, but never fitted in. He and Quentin never got along. They couldn't stand the sight of each other, actually. After a few years, his father let him go off and travel. By then it was too late for him to take up the medicine offer and he wasn't interested in studying anything else. He's bummed around ever since. Every so often he comes back and does some work for a few months and then he buggers off again.”
“What was the cause of the aggro?”
“I can't say for sure but Stanley was always the blue-eyed boy, his mother's favourite, and I think Quentin resented it. He always wants to be the centre of attention and he'd quite often create problems for Stanley or undermine his efforts and then tell everyone about how useless he was. He's a bully and Stanley was an easy target. His father's a bully too, but at least Daniel had real ability which goes some way to make up for it.
“Like I was saying, Daniel ran this place with an iron fist. But then a couple of years ago he had a stroke. It was a bad one and completely floored him. At first, no one thought he would pull through but he's an incredibly strong man. It took him months but he got back most of his mobility. He's got a limp now and uses a stick and his speech is a bit slurred but he's made a remarkable recovery. It's really weakened him though and sapped his confidence.
“When it first happened, the family got together. They knew they had to do something to keep the business going. As part of his planning, Daniel had set up a living Power or Attorney and the children used this to take over control.”
“What about his wife?”
“Oh, she died a number of years ago so it was all down to the children. In theory they had equal say but Stanley still didn't want to be involved and used his influence to stop Quentin getting control. As a result, Hector, using Georgina's shares, became the managing director. Quentin was livid. He thought the company was his birthright and he also thought he was the natural successor as he knew the most about how the company functioned. There were some major squabbles but there was nothing Quentin could do. Even the investors backed Hector because they'd been led to believe he was a professional. Quentin had threatened to walk out but it was all bluster. Since then they've worked together okay but the atmosphere has not always been pleasant.”
“This sounds a right hornet's nest.”
“Aye, you could say that.”
“Who else is involved?”
“On the senior management side there's a couple of others. Patrick Gillespie is the Company Secretary. He's in his seventies, probably about the same as Daniel and he's worked for the company all his life. He started as a junior clerk but he was given training as a boy and sent off to college to get his qualifications. He always deferred to Miss Georgina when she worked here but he really ran the office when Hector was supposedly in charge. He looks after all the office staff, the general admin, the accounts and the sales and export administration. I suppose in a modern organisation he'd be called the Finance Director or Chief Finance Officer but we're still a bit old fashioned here so he's just the Secretary. The other manager is Callum McPherson and he's responsible for materials control. He takes care of stock control, buying and inventory management.
“On top of that, we've got the children. Hector and Georgina have two and so do Quentin and his wife Fiona. Stanley's never been married and there's talk that he never will, if you know what I mean. As for the children, they're all pretty much a waste
of space. They swan around here as if they own the place, which I suppose they do in a way, but not yet. They all take out a salary but they don't do very much. Quentin's oldest, Samuel, is the only one who even tries. He was named after some of his fore-bearers but that doesn't seem to have gone for anything as he's as daft as a brush. Quentin gets him to go on sales trips and to stand at our stall at whisky exhibitions, but pouring the whisky seems all he's good for, and drinking it, of course. He seems to have developed quite a taste for the product.”
Phil had been taking his own notes to supplement the recording but he saw a natural pause to put down his pen and refill the teacups. All three slurped down the hot liquid and Phil took the opportunity to devour a thick slab of shortbread.
“Have you had no breakfast, son?” Alex enquired.
“No, Sir. I'd been planning to pick up a bacon roll before going into the office but Donny phoned to tell me about coming out here first thing. I'd thought of getting something to eat on the road out but I couldn't take bacon or sausage into the car with Sanjay. It wouldn't have been right with his religious beliefs.”
“Very thoughtful,” Alex added sardonically.
“Thanks for all that, Sandy. Now we know the main players and we also know that Hector wasn't meant to be in last night. We can easily check who else was meant to be here, but as the records don't show Hector Mathewson as being on site then there's every chance he could have had others with him who also weren't on record. We now need to get a better understanding of what's being going on. What can you tell me about Mathewson? What was he like? How did he get on with the others? You know the sort of things we're looking for.”
“Well, Sir. To start with, that's easy, but it won't help you too much. I think you'd have difficulty finding anyone around here with a good thing to say about him. He wasn't liked and didn't get on with anyone. He was a bully, but that's no surprise, it was a pretty consistent family trait. But while folk were wary and even a bit scared of the other members of the family, at least they were respected. That wasn't the case with Mr Hector. He was only a member of the management because he married in, so he was never seen to have the same right to be here or be in command and, worse still, everyone thought he wasn't making a very good job of running things.