A Measure of Trouble (Alex Warren Murder Mysteries Book 2)

by Zach Abrams

  “I think you'll find a criminal investigation for murder trumps a commercial agreement, but check with your lawyers by all means.”

  “No, you're right, I don't need a lawyer to tell me. Besides, with Hector dead, the agreement is void. It probably wasn't going anywhere anyhow.”

  “Why wasn't it going anywhere?”

  “I'd rather not say.”

  “I think you may have to, but for the time being let's just hear about what happened between you and Hector.”

  “Hector emailed me the data I asked for. He presented it as a formal Information Memorandum and it was just as I suspected; they had the throughput and the market penetration we were looking for. Their figures were even better actually, except for the net profit. That didn't bother us too much as they're a family business so we'd expect a lot of unusual costs. They'd all be cleared out after a purchase. It's the underlying profit that interests us most, not what's declared in their accounts and, of course, even more so, we wanted to evaluate the potential we could exploit. Our combined strength would give us access to some markets that neither of us could penetrate individually. The whole being greater than the sum of the parts.

  “There's no rocket science in any of it, it's standard evaluation tactics in a takeover or merger.

  “Anyway, I met Hector the night before last so we could see where we were taking it. This was the first real meeting and we didn't want it to be too heavy so it was just the two of us. We needed a neutral venue so we met at the Rogano for dinner. Hector brought me a gift of a vintage bottle. That's it over there on the sideboard.”

  “I noticed it earlier. I wondered what it was doing amongst your brands.”

  “You don't miss a lot, do you, Inspector?”

  “Chief Inspector, actually,” Phil cut in, the first words he'd spoken aloud since being shown into the house.

  “My apologies, I'm not familiar with the structure the police have in this country.”

  “No problem,” Alex replied. “Did you talk business over dinner?”

  “A little, although it was mostly talking over old times and about how the business has been changing over the years.”

  “Was your relationship with Hector only ever business?”

  Chuck's face flushed. She chewed on her lip and looked downward, unable to meet Alex's appraising gaze. For the first time, she lost her confident air, but only for a few seconds. In the short space of time, she seemed to be considering how to react; should she be affronted, angry, honest or what? She decided on her course of action and her head lifted and she stared straight back at him.

  “A few years ago, we had a fling. I was between husbands at the time and quite lonely. We were at a marketing event in London and we spent some time together. There was nothing else to it. We were both consenting adults and we had a few days with no strings attached. We parted as friends which was why he felt he could call me.”

  “And what about Wednesday night?”

  “Nothing happened then. True, Hector suggested we could pick up where we left off, but I wasn't interested.”

  “How did all this come about?”

  “Over coffee, we were discussing the business and he suggested taking me out to see the operation, there and then. He placed his hand on my knee, the uninjured one, and it was more than a friendly gesture. I'm not a vain woman. I knew from that moment exactly what he was suggesting. He said he'd take me out and show me the distillery and it would be our secret as nobody would know. He said if I was up for a bit of adventure, we could have some dirty sex on the premises. I think he came out with an expression along the lines that, if I wanted him to let me screw him on a deal, then the least I could do was let him fuck me first. I declined his offer.”

  Seeing Alex's deadpan expression, Chuck continued, “You don't seem shocked, or even surprised?”

  “Not really, we've already heard about some of his exploits. Now, you've said that the distillery visit would have been a secret, did he explain how it could be kept secret?”

  “Not exactly. He did say he could get us in without anyone knowing, but he didn't say how and I didn't want him to think I was interested in his invitation so I didn't ask.”

  “He made no mention of a tunnel?”

  “A tunnel? No, and just as well as I hate small spaces. That would have really put me off.”

  “Not that you needed putting off anyway,” Phil interceded with one of his few remarks.

  “No, young man, I didn't,” she shot back.

  “How far did the business discussions go?” Alex asked.

  “We discussed the figures and I asked why he was looking to sell. He told me he was wanting out and wished to maximise his cash. He said there was no-one else in the company able to take over. Daniel was too old and ill, Georgina hadn't been involved for years, Stanley wasn't interested and he didn't rate Quentin and said he couldn't carry the support of the others anyway.”

  “I don't think Quentin sees it that way.”

  “That's what I said too. I've known Quentin for years as well, our fathers' friendships went back even longer, but I was never close to Quentin.”

  “Not the way you were with Hector?” Phil enquired.

  “No,” she replied frostily. “I asked him how the family felt about the sale and he just soft soaped the answer. When I pressed, he said there would be some resistance but he was convinced he could pull it off. He said he'd want us to be a bit creative in the package though, with either retained employment or generous payoffs for those family employed by the company. I told him I wasn't going to waste time and expense pursuing a valuation and an offer until I knew it would be properly considered. I asked him to provide me with a board statement approving a sale or at least consideration of a sale.”

  Chuck paused for a few seconds, her eyes scanned around the room. She appeared uncertain whether to continue. “There's something else, I don't know if I should be telling you.”

  “Let me be the judge of that, if you please. Any information could be relevant and important.”

  “Hector told me there was a second business, run on the side. He said all the Benlochy turnover didn't go through the accounts and that he had a special operation which provided a very useful cash stream, the emphasis being on `cash.' I asked if it was legitimate and he didn't answer, he just raised his eyebrows and said he didn't believe in paying tax and duty that he didn't have to. I was curious and asked him how he sold it and he told me he had special contacts. I stopped him and told him not to go on. I said, in no uncertain terms, that Hanser was a big company and totally above board. Yes, we use accountants and lawyers to ensure we present figures the right way and to ensure the structure and residencies are optimised to reduce tax, but we won't break the law. We have major ambitions and we have a Wall Street listing. We're not going to prejudice our position by becoming involved in anything dodgy and we certainly aren't going to get involved with criminal distribution channels.”

  “I think we already know what that's all about so you needn't worry about betraying confidences,” Alex advised her reassuringly and she seemed to visibly relax.

  “I think that's all I have to ask for the time being, but we may want to speak again. How long are you staying in Glasgow?”

  “I'm flying back to New York on Monday. Melissa needs to be back for school. You can always get hold of me though. Here's my card, it has my private cell and my email. Please excuse me if I don't get up to show you out but I'll get Jeeves to do it.”

  “Jeeves?” Alex and Phil questioned in perfect harmony.

  “His real name is Hartley, but it's our little joke.”

  Chapter 13

  Once back in the car, Alex turned to Phil. “If Mathewson was supplying underworld contacts with illegal whisky, then he must have been mixing with some very dangerous people. That industry is controlled by organised crime syndicates and the gang lords involved are not ones you'd want to mess with. If he'd welched on a deal or let someone down or if he'd let them get
wind that he was pulling out of the business, then they'd have thought nothing of squashing him. This whole business is taking on an even nastier taste.”

  Before switching on the engine, both Alex and Phil checked their phones, recovering them from silent mode. Alex saw he had two missed calls from Sandra as well as a voice message. He pressed and held down the `1' key.

  “Hi, Alex, I'm in the flat and it's great. I'm planning to go up and confront the neighbours soon and thought I'd just check in the unlikely event that you could be available.” Alex checked the detail and saw the recording was made only three minutes before. He called back, and while it was ringing, he quickly got out and stood beside the car.

  “It's great, Alex, it's just perfect.”

  “I can't chat just now, I'm outside Holbein's house and I've got Phil in the car. Hold on there for twenty minutes and I'll join you so you don't have to go upstairs alone. I'll go now, see you soon.”

  Without waiting for a reply, Alex clicked off then climbed back in the car and switched on the ignition, made a U-turn and retraced his earlier route.

  Phil started, “I've had some feedback from the enquiries this morning. First, Stanley Burns is at home and will be in all afternoon so we could go there now if you want as we're already on the South Side.”

  “I'm afraid I've something to attend to first. I'll drop you back at the office and pick you up half an hour to an hour later, okay?”

  “Sure thing. You're the boss. I'll grab a bite of lunch in between.”

  “You said `firstly,' what else have you got?”

  “Sorry, I nearly forgot. It's just a bit of feedback on the enquiries you asked me to make. Carpenter came up clean. No criminal record, not even a parking ticket. He's married with two children, both at primary school. He graduated with a 2/2 honours from St Andrews and then went to Jordanhill teacher training college. Eastfarm is his second teaching job and everything sounds kosher. He met his wife at TTC and she taught primary until their sprogs came along and then she packed it in. Her record is clean too. He plays badminton and table tennis at county standard and he's a keen chess player and helps coach in these activities at school.”

  “That's good, anything on the Connellys?”

  “Oh yes, but they're not so squeaky clean.”

  “Tell me more.”

  “Paul Connelly's the father. He has half a dozen convictions ranging from car theft to aggravated assault. He's also under enquiry for making fraudulent benefit claims. He's served a bit of time, but that was several years ago for one of the assaults. Since then he only has sentences of community service. He's aged thirty-seven and never held down a proper job in his life. His wife, well, partner really because they've never been married, is Margaret Doherty. She's been done for shoplifting several times and on one occasion she made a claim of sexual assault against some guy who was interviewing her for a job. She didn't get the job, or any job as far as the records show. She applied for Legal Aid and found a lawyer to represent her, but the case was dropped before it came to court and there was suspicion that, on this and maybe other occasions, it was a scam. She makes some spurious claim against some poor sod and gets a payout not to drag him through the gutter.”

  “That sounds really helpful. It could be they're varying the formula and using the boy for the same scam. Did you get anything on their children?”

  “Not a lot, because a lot of the records are inaccessible but there are two boys. Dean is aged thirteen and Sean is twelve. There are stories about both of them extorting money with threats of menace from other school kids. The reports date back from their previous school in Barrhead as well as Eastfarm. As far as I could tell, the young one, Sean, is the really evil one and the older one just follows his example. Another thing, there's a court case pending to have them evicted from their flat. Apparently they've never paid any rent and there are several other claims on them for bad debts. Did I do good or did I do good?”

  “I couldn't have asked for more, well done.”

  The heavy clouds had cleared and blue could be seen in the sky. It was illuminated by a bright, if watery, winter sun. Alex dropped Phil outside Pitt Street and considered his best route to the West End to meet with Sandra. Although further in distance, he chose to take the Clydeside Expressway so as to avoid the heavy traffic on Dumbarton Road. This enabled him to travel most of the route at a steady fifty miles per hour instead of five. On the way he was able to appraise the advancing construction for the new Hydro Arena, the latest addition to the Scottish Exhibition and Conference Centre complex. Alex had read an article showing the new national arena would hold 12,000 fully seated and would be the largest entertainments venue in Scotland. In progress it looked like any other building site but with a structure comprising of large steel bones sticking out of the ground at strange angles. resembling a dinosaur skeleton.

  Alex passed the main West End exit, instead coming off at Whiteinch and doubling back towards the city. In all it took less than ten minutes before he reached the flat and saw Sandra looking out for his arrival. He exited the car and approached the front entrance. He heard the buzz from Sandra remotely releasing the security entry system before he reached the door and was through it and up the stairs to meet her in a few seconds.

  “I'd like to show you round but I know you're in a hurry so it can keep until later. Let's go up now. You know what I've got in mind.”

  Alex looked at Sandra approvingly, she was so clean and fresh and wholesome. He could smell soap and shampoo. She was slender and lithe, wearing skin tight jeans and a sweater which clung to her shape accentuating her curves. Alex said nothing: he just nodded and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze before she climbed the steps to the next floor. Alex followed, admiring her swift, sleek movements, then he took up his position to the side of the entrance. The door didn't look substantial. It appeared to be more the style of an internal, panelled door with a rough surface which had been badly painted in a light colour. This only fully masked the green underneath in places, but the whole surface was blotchy. The door frame itself was still a bottle green colour except where natural wood showed through with rough splinters. Alex reckoned that it must have been forced open, probably with a crowbar, on some previous occasion and white paint had been used in a futile attempt to cover up the worst of the effect. There wasn't a doorbell and instead a brass knocker was pinned to the middle.

  Alex observed as Sandra loudly chapped the knocker. There was no response at first so she waited a few seconds then tried again. A dog yelped, then there was a muffled shuffling sound and what sounded like an exaggerated yawn, followed by a metallic click. A glimmer of light escaped through a small gap as the door was prised slightly open.

  “Who are you and what do you want?”

  “Good morning, my name's Sandra Mackinnon and I'm your new neighbour. I'm just moving in downstairs and I thought I'd come and introduce myself,” she called enthusiastically.

  There was a creak as the door was pulled fully open, revealing a man, aged in his early twenties and dressed only in boxer shorts. He was small of stature and slim, with sweaty, sandy coloured hair stuck to his brow and two or three days' growth of facial hair. He smelled stale. On seeing Sandra, his face lit up in a broad smile, but some of his front teeth were missing and those that remained were dirty and nicotine stained.

  “I'm Mark, pleased to meet you, come on in. Sorry I'm not dressed yet, I've just woken up. I had a late night with a few friends round. We quite often have parties; maybe you'd like to join us?”

  “Thanks for the invite,” Alex called out and both he and Sandra pushed forward through the hallway and into a filthy and cluttered living area with discarded clothes covering a couch, the only designated seating in the room. A small but morbidly obese Jack Russell terrier was seated amongst the clothes looking up. The young man followed then craned his neck to look up at Alex fearfully. “I didn't see you there.”

  Alex left Sandra to do the talking.

  “Yes, as I sai
d I'm your new neighbour and this is my friend, Alex Warren, Detective Chief Inspector Alex Warren to you. I'm Detective Sergeant Sandra Mackinnon and yes, we are both in the police force. As you can imagine, we work very hard and we work long hours so we want to be able to get complete rest when we get home. Thank you for your kind invitation to your parties but we will not be accepting. We will also be expecting not to suffer any nuisance from any guests you might entertain or we'll hold you responsible. Do you understand?”

  Mark just nodded, his mouth was open and his eyes were wide and terror stricken.

  “There are a couple of other matters I want to mention while I'm here. First, there's a distinct smell of cannabis in this room and, unless I'm mistaken, that's what you've got in the bag on the table. I don't want to see it, I'm not in the drug squad and I'm not too interested in what damage individuals want to do to themselves, but if I have any trouble whatsoever from you, then I'll ensure some of my friends pay you a visit and keep a very close eye on you. The other matter is that I checked the back court this morning and it's full of dog poo. Now, I'm a dog lover as much as anyone else, but I'm not going to tolerate you allowing your pooch to mess up what's part of the common area. I'll give you until Sunday morning to have the area cleaned up and, if it's not or if you let your dog mess anywhere again without cleaning it up, then you're going to have some serious problems. Is that all abundantly clear?”

  “But some of it wasn't my dog.”

  “Which means a lot of it was. I've given you my instructions.”

  Mark gave a kind of a nod. He was trembling and his knees were shaking. It wasn't from the cold.

  “I didn't hear you. Is that all abundantly clear?”

  “Yes,” Mark replied mournfully.

  Alex and Sandra left and went back down to her flat. She unlocked the door, “I don't know how I did that. Now, it's done I'm shaking like a leaf.”

  “Nowhere near as much as he is. You handled it perfectly.”