by Zach Abrams
“The worst part has been all the rumours that the distillery was up for sale. The managers keep denying it but that's only been adding fuel to the flames. There seems to be loads of meetings all kept very quiet. If anyone enters the room while the meetings are on, then all the talking stops and nobody knows where to look.”
“I thought it was a very successful and profitable business. Why should they want to sell it?”
“I really can't say, Sir. As nobody's prepared to talk about what's going on, they can hardly tell us the reason why. I'm sure the business is good and profitable but it's an awful big family to support, particularly when not many of them are making an effective contribution to running it and, added to that, they've got expensive tastes.”
There was another loud knock on the door and a police constable Alex didn't recognise poked his head in.
“Sorry to interrupt you, Sir. The Medical Examiner, Doctor Duffie, asked me to request you to come down and see him at the earliest opportunity.”
“Tell him I'll be there in a couple of minutes then come back here to sit in with DC Morrison.” Alex turned his attention back to Sandy. “I think I've got the essentials but please stay a bit longer and tell Phil anything else which you think might be relevant. I'll be back soon.”
Chapter 3
“Hi Doc, what have you got to tell me?” Alex enquired before the door had time to close.
“Alex, it's good to see you, too. Okay, you're in a hurry so I'll forgive you skipping the pleasantries. Nothing certain yet, but I've conducted my initial checks and I'm ready to have the body shipped out. I'll get the PM done this afternoon and should have a full report by tomorrow morning. My first impressions, if you want them, death caused by head's impact with a blunt instrument. Something's hit the side of his head with a lot of force. It looks like being murder as he couldn't have done that to himself. I reckon death happened sometime after midnight last night, but I'll know more later on, after the PM. There's a circular indent on the side of his skull and there was some tiny glass fragments next to the wound.”
“What do you think caused it?”
“Hard to say at the moment.”
“What about the broken racks? Could it have been an accident? Could he have fallen into them and they collapsed around him, with some of the debris striking his head?”
“I don't think that's too likely. The type of wound and bruising are not consistent with it. My guess is he was hit and went down. Maybe he fell back into the racking, and it was weak, causing it to collapse. More likely he just went straight down then the attacker pulled the racking over in a crude attempt to cover up or to cloud the issue. The PM might tell us some more. So if there's nothing else, I'll get ahead and do it.”
Alex stood back and watched as the body was carefully loaded onto a stretcher and carried out.
Having already broken from his interviews, Alex took time and enquired about progress from Anne Dixon. Her team had completed their initial checks and samplings from the cask room and were now in the process of examining the adjacent shop. Alex looked around admiringly at the rows of shelves stacked with a variety of bottles. The area was clean and modern with bright, halogen lighting reflecting off the polished floor and glass and metal shelving.
“What are your plans? And when do you expect to have anything for me?”
“I'm not going to rush this,” Anne replied. “There's a big area to cover. When the body was found the door was open between the cask room and the shop. The shop's open-plan onto the café and the public toilets are beyond that. All of this but nothing else is contained in this building and I think we should check every part of it. I also want to go through Mathewson's office with a fine tooth comb.”
“I didn't realise that was still one of the tools you used, with all the modern technology you've got.”
Anne gave a wry smile but didn't take up the point. “We're likely to be at this most of the day. I've spoken to Shirley and told her to cancel any tours and visitor trips booked for today or the rest of this week. She didn't seem too happy and said she'd need to get the okay from Mr Quentin, but she went off to do it. I'll let you know any important findings as soon as we finish and will get the formal report out in due course, just the way you'd expect from Inspector Connors. I've not been here long, but he's taught me well.”
Alex raised his hand as a farewell gesture and marched back to the office building. Sergeant Guptar was just showing someone he didn't recognise out through one of the office doors when Alex caught sight of him.
“Hi, Sanjay. I timed that well. How are you getting on?”
“Slow and steady, Sir. So far, all I'm doing is carrying out very brief interviews and taking folk's details. Just to see who was where and when and see what else they volunteer.”
“What's it produced?”
“Not too much. I've spoken with everyone who was listed on site through the night. No one saw Mathewson or even knew he was there. But I've also found out that it wasn't unusual for him to come in at night and often without his car. Quite frequently the light in his office was seen on and it's not just because the cleaners forgot to turn it off. When security checked, they'd found he'd been in. One that I spoke to said he'd asked him how he'd got in without driving or being clocked by security and he'd gotten his ear bitten off for asking. I've got it all in my notes.”
“Okay, that's good. It's not given us any answers but it's taken us a fair bit forward. Keep up the good work. I'll go back and see what else Sandy has to tell us.”
Alex slipped back into Quentin's office and resumed his seat. Sandy was in full flow, talking about the various members of the Burns family and his discourse was hardly interrupted by the movement.
“I was just telling Phil more about all the different members of the remote family. As I'd said before, Quentin, Georgina, Stanley and Samuel are the only ones who actually work in the business, but the three other children as well as about twenty cousins are involved in the family trust and they all take money out. Some of them I've never seen. I don't think they even live in Scotland, Monte Carlo or somewhere like that, I think. Most of them turn up though from time to time if there's a family dinner or sometimes when there's a big promotion and they want to be seen with celebrities. When they do come, they always go away with a suitcase full of product. I suppose it's none of my business but it's a bit different for the workers. If we were to find any of them trying to sneak out a bottle they weren't meant to have, then they'd be out on their ear and collecting their P45.
“Oh, by the way, I've arranged for some fresh tea to be brought in.”
“Sandy, I'd like to go back to what you were saying earlier. I've heard that Mathewson was in the habit of coming in at night.”
“Yes, Sir. It had happened a few times before. We'd just find out he was on the premises. Either he'd be seen in his office or else walking about the yard or the shop and we didn't know how he'd got in.
“We tried to ask him about it but he just chased us. Even when we explained we only wanted to ensure the security was working. He'd have none of it. He was a law unto himself, a bit of an arrogant prick. He only spoke to us when he wanted something or wanted to tell us something. The rest of the time he didn't want to know.”
“I'm guessing he wasn't too popular then?”
“Aye, you can say that again.”
“How do you think he got in?”
“I truly don't know, Sir. We checked round all the walls and the perimeter fence and didn't see how he could have done it. There's the main entrance with the security gate and that's always manned. I suppose he could have walked through on an odd occasion without being seen but that meant he'd been able to slip past the man on duty. I could see that happening very occasionally, but it was more often than that.”
“What about other entrances?”
“The store shed over there,” he said, pointing into the distance, “has a doorway straight out onto the road, but it's never used these days and when we
checked there was no indication that it'd been opened in years. The same applies for a gate in the fence on the far side. There's an old pathway that leads out to the woods but the gate has a padlock and it's covered in rust.”
“There are no breaks in the fence or weak points someone could have climbed through?”
“No, Sir, we checked. The fence is all thick mesh and it's covered in razor-wire so no-one in their right mind would try coming over it. Where there are buildings instead of fence, there's the same razor-wire around the guttering so no-one tries to climb over, no sane person anyway. The entranceway and main courtyard have security cameras and PIR lighting, but we've never picked up anything to explain.”
“It was a bit of a mystery, then. Was it only Mathewson? Or was anyone else able to miraculously appear and disappear?”
“As far as I know, it was only him. It wasn't that often either.”
“You mean, `It wasn't that often that you were aware of.' If he had a way of popping in and out whenever he wanted and without being seen then there's no telling how often he did it without you knowing.”
“Aye, I suppose that's true.”
“From what Winters told me, all the owners arrived at once. He thought you must have called them. Is that right?”
“Not exactly, Sir. Mr Quentin's always in early and very often he brings in Mr Samuel with him because they live in the same house. As far as I know, Mr Stanley's not here, I haven't seen him. He's rarely seen before midday. When Mr Quentin arrived, I told him what I'd found. Ally, Bert and I were just trying to keep a lid on things `til you arrived.”
“Did you know officers Winters and Ferguson before this?”
“Oh yeah, I've lived in this area for a number of years and, being an ex-copper, I know all the local boys.”
“Okay, back to this incident. Has the widow been told?”
“No, Sir. When Mr Quentin heard, he wanted to phone her right away but I told him that he shouldn't and he needed to leave it for the police to handle. He seemed to think about it for a second and then backed down.”
“Okay, I'd like to do this myself and I'll take Mary with me. Can you give me directions to the house?”
Chapter 4
Fifteen minutes later, Alex, accompanied by Police Constable Mary McKenzie, turned the Santa Fe off the road into the driveway of a large, modern, architect-designed villa, sitting alone on a wide stretch of land atop a small hill.
They climbed down from the SUV and crunched across the red blaize pathway, halting on the penultimate of the four approach steps before ringing the doorbell. They heard thunderous movement from within and the sound of loud barking.
A few moments passes before they heard, “get down, get down,” and the metallic click of a lock turning. The door pulled open a few inches.
“Yes, can I help you?” They were addressed by a dour looking middle-aged woman. She was plump and her round, red face was accentuated by her long greying hair being tied up in a bun. She was dressed all in black, wearing a tight fitting sweater and leggings and she was holding a rag in her left hand.
Alex held out his warrant card. “I'm DCI Warren and this is PC McKenzie. We're here to speak to Mrs Mathewson.”
The door was promptly opened fully and they were invited inside. Two young but large dogs circled and sniffed at them as they advanced. They were Rottweilers, speckles of dark brown interrupted their otherwise solid black colouring and they had broad muscular shoulders, square-shaped heads with alert but kind looking eyes. They looked well exercised, not an ounce of fat on either of them. Alex judged that standing on their hind legs they would each be taller than Mary and probably almost as heavy in weight. The housekeeper pushed the dogs away to clear a path and Mary walked briskly, clearly uncomfortable with having the powerful beasts so close. Alex, by contrast, extended his arm with a closed fist in introduction, allowing the dogs to become acquainted before stroking and ruffling their sleek coats. Alex and Mary were shown into the lounge and invited to take a seat while the housekeeper went to find her employer. The dogs stopped at the open door and lay down in a `V-shape' pointing in, acting as sentries, keeping a close watch on the visitors.
The room was cavernous and very bright with floor to ceiling sized windows on two walls. In the far corner where the windows joined sat a heavily lacquered, boudoir-sized, grand piano. Vertical blinds offered it limited protection from the daylight. The walls were painted in a rich gold colour and the seating comprised of four, large, deep buttoned, chesterfield couches surrounding an oak, opium table.
Alex and Mary had only just settled onto a couch but bounced back onto their feet as steps approached.
The dogs also jumped attentively, standing apart to clear a channel to permit access.
“Good morning officers. I'm Georgina Mathewson. If you're looking for my husband, then I'm afraid you've had a wasted journey,” the lady called as she walked through the door. The dogs resumed their sentry duties but this time in a sitting position.
The lady was tall, about five-foot-ten and very thin. The skin of her face was parchment white, almost transparent and it was punctuated by neat delicate features and powder blue eyes. She was dressed in a brightly coloured wrap, worn in the style of a sari. Alex judged her to be of similar age to his own forty-two years. She was far from the most beautiful woman he had ever met but her appearance was attractive, striking and most certainly memorable.
“Good morning, Mrs Mathewson. It's you we're looking to speak to, not your husband. Please take a seat. I'm afraid we have some very bad news for you.”
She did as suggested and her eyes darted back and forward between the two of them.
“Is it Daddy? Oh no. What's happened?”
“I'm sorry to have to tell you that your husband was found dead this morning.”
“Hector?” she exhaled long and slowly and Alex interpreted her reaction more as being one of relief rather than surprise. She regained her composure following the momentary lapse. There was a further pause as she looked enquiringly at their two faces. “You're a DCI and you've come to tell me this so I don't suppose it was a traffic accident?”
“No, you're right, it was nothing like that. His body was found this morning in the cask room of the distillery. The circumstances are suspicious and there's a distinct possibility it was murder.”
Georgina said nothing at first. She sat impassively, staring straight ahead. They could see her eyes flickering, deep in thought as she collated the implications of what she'd been told.
“Where are my manners? Can I offer you a cup of tea?”
“No, Madam, we're fine. But I think maybe you should have one yourself. PC McKenzie can get it for you.”
“That won't be necessary. I'll have Agnes bring a tray.”
Georgina called instructions to the housekeeper. Alex looked on with interest. He wasn't certain if she might be in shock or if she was just a very cool customer. He had only limited exposure to the aristocratic classes and in all cases to date it had been with men. She was clearly used to being in control and no doubt had vast training and experience of how to behave in company. But, nevertheless, he'd just told her that her husband had been found dead, probably murdered, and she'd shown no emotion. Surely that was carrying the `stiff upper lip' a bit far.
“You've had some shocking news. Would you like me to call your doctor or one of your family or friends to be with you?”
“No, I'm fine. I'll need to let the boys know what's happened. They're away just now. They're skiing in Klosters.”
“How long have they been away? And when are they due back?”
“They've been gone about ten days, in London to start with and then Switzerland. They're due back tomorrow.”
“We haven't released anything yet but it's only a matter of time before there'll be a news report. Your husband was well known in business circles and it's certain to make the headlines. You'll want your sons to hear before the news goes public. We can arrange for the local police to vi
sit them if you'd like.”
“Certainly not, I'll call them myself.”
“There are a number of questions we'd like to ask you and, if you're up to it, we'd like to try and do it now.”
“Yes, of course. Please go on.”
“It's believed that your husband's time of death was in the early hours of this morning. Can you tell me when you last saw him?”
“He came back from the office mid-afternoon yesterday. He changed and then went back out again because he had a meeting last night in Glasgow.”
“Do you know who the meeting was with? And where it was?”
“Yes, he was meeting an American, Chuck Holbein, the CEO of Hanser, the international drinks conglomerate. They were having dinner together at the Rogano.”
“Do you know what the meeting was about?”
“I'd rather not say.”
“We've heard rumours that the distillery was being sold. Is it anything to do with that?”
Georgina gave a weak smile. “You may think that, I couldn't possibly comment.”
As he was a fan of Michael Dobbs' books and in particular the `House of Cards' series, Alex smiled back and nodded, acknowledging the reference.
“We'll maybe have to come back to that. Hector never came home last night. Did that not surprise you?”
“No, I hadn't even realised actually because we sleep in separate bedrooms. He snores so badly I couldn't possibly sleep in the same room,” she replied candidly.
“Would you not have expected to see him in the morning?”
“It wasn't unusual for him to stay out. He quite often stayed at his Club in Glasgow, particularly if he'd been entertaining and had a drink. That way, he wouldn't have to drive home late and under the influence.”