by Zach Abrams
Donny's lame attempt at racist humour was received with stony glares from the rest of the team.
“On top of all of that, we know he's been involved in selling counterfeit whisky or maybe it was real product but sold under the counter. He'll have been dealing with some really unsavoury characters. It looks as if that was going on for a long time, going back before Mathewson was in charge, so I reckon Daniel Burns might be due another little visit as well.”
“That's where we're up to. Where do we go now?” Sandra prompted.
Phil was first to answer, “If I'm not stating the obvious, we need to talk to the Teiko guy today. Maybe Sandra and I could see him. We could go on to Daniel Burns afterwards. Mathewson's sons also need to be checked, so maybe Sanjay could do them along with Mary to give continuity because she's already been to their house with the boss. Then there's Callum McPherson, if they could see him as well. Scene of crime are still trying to research the glass. Donny's been doing a great job on the research and coordination, so perhaps he could check Samuel's alibi then continue following up on the drink sales links, his gambling debts and anything else on the business scene.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Sandra concluded.
“You've been very quiet, Boss,” Phil continued.
“It's the sign of good management when you have a team you feel confident in delegating to, and I am happy enough with how it's being handled. I'd have been quick to say if I saw anything being missed. Now let's get to it.”
Sandra told Phil to call Yakimoto and set up their meeting, and while he was doing so, she went to the ladies room to freshen up. She was standing checking her appearance in the mirror when Mary walked in.
“How are you settling in, Mary?”
“Really great and I'm so lucky to be on a big case so soon. It's a great team. Donny's a bit of an old grouch, but everyone else has been so welcoming, and as for the DCI, he's a real hunk. I've been hearing he's single as well.”
“He's divorced, but he has two sons and he's devoted to them. That's where he's heading off to now.”
“It sounds as if you're trying to put me off. I can see you're both very close. Maybe you want him all to yourself. I hope you don't mind another woman in the team, or will I be cramping your style?”
Sandra's first inclination was to snap back telling Mary to show her some respect and to mind her own business, but she stopped herself. In truth, she did want Alex all to herself, but she also knew Mary's words were just idle chat, girl talk, and reacting aggressively would be the worst thing she could do. It would be guaranteed to oil the rumour machine. She'd be best to play along with the banter.
“No problem, I don't mind a bit of competition, besides the DCI and I are good friends…” Sandra didn't have time to finish her sentence but regretted her starting words the moment she'd said them.
“Ahhh, just good friends, nod, nod, wink, wink, we know what that means.”
“No, actually I meant it literally. We've worked together for a few years now, and last November, we were on a case where he claims I saved his life. Well, you know the old Japanese custom, at least in the movies, if you save someone's life, then you're responsible for them forevermore,” Sandra replied, showing a big grin which she hardly felt. She remembered her conversation with Alex the previous night and knew he had been right; they'd have to make some difficult decisions.
“I heard about that case. An assistant chief was arrested, Forbes wasn't it? And one of the arresting officers was slashed. Was that the DCI and you?”
“Yes, it was, but it goes for nothing now. You're only as good as the case you're working on.” Sandra was relieved to have changed the subject and had brought it back to their current investigation. “Oh, and by the way, you're right about Donny; he's old school and he's due for retirement fairly soon. He's a good copper but he's got his prejudices. He doesn't like women, certainly not when they're in superior positions, and he's a WASP.”
“A WASP? What do you mean?”
“White Anglo-Saxon Protestant, he's not too tolerant of anyone else, so watch your back.”
“Thanks for the heads up.”
* * *
Alex had only just stepped back into his office when his mobile rang. The caller display showed it was Brian Phelps.
“Hey, Brian, we've not talked so often since we were back at Uni. What can I do for you?”
“Hi, Alex, I hope I've not caught you at a bad time. It's bad news I'm afraid.” There was a pause. “It's about Carpenter, he attempted suicide last night. I told you before his wife knows Trish well, and she called her this morning to say what had happened.”
“You said `attempted.' How is he? And what actually happened?”
“He's been taken to the Southern General and had his stomach pumped. He swallowed a bottle of pain killers and washed it down with vodka. Fortunately, he's not much of a drinker and he threw up, but there's no telling how many pills were in the bottle or how many he might have ingested. That's why they pumped him to get out everything they could. They have confirmed there's not enough left to kill him or cause critical damage, but he may have done some harm to his stomach lining. He's going to feel pretty awful for a while too, but it's his state of mind that's most worrying.”
“Poor bugger, he'd been under a lot of pressure.”
“He's been really depressed with the enquiry going on, but it was something that happened last night which made him snap.”
“Go on.”
“Some thugs, we know now it was Connelly and his crew, went round to his house with spray cans. They painted the word `pervert' across his door and windows and all over his car.”
“Little bastards.”
“He saw them doing it, apparently, and phoned the police. He even managed to take photographs of them. He handed his camera over and made a statement. He seemed okay at the time. His real problem came later when he saw how upset his kids were. His wife tried talking to him but he just seemed to draw into himself. She thought he'd just need time to come to terms with it, but she was wrong. In the middle of the night, he got up and raided the medicine cabinet, locked himself in the loo, then took the pills with the vodka. She heard him being sick and forced the door, then phoned for an ambulance. She's acted quickly enough to save him, but it'll be a while before we know how he really is.
“The only silver lining is that we won't need to see Connelly back at the school. After what's happened, we won't have to take him back. We can cite it as being for his own protection.”
After closing the phone, Alex sat staring at his empty desk. His earlier contented demeanour was overtaken by shock and sadness. Although he didn't know Carpenter personally, he had an overwhelming feeling of sympathy for what he and his family had been put through, and he knew their lives would never be the same again. It would be some considerable time, if ever, before he'd be permitted to return to teaching, and his wife and children would also suffer as a result.
Alex knew he'd have to tell Andrew what had happened. The boy had expected or at least hoped his father might have been able to do something, but Alex felt helpless. He wasn't looking forward to being the bearer of bad news, but he knew it was necessary.
Alex picked up his internal phone and made a couple of calls. By the end, he had confirmed that Sean Connelly and his father had been charged, as well as two of Sean's former school friends from Barrhead. The photos taken by Carpenter were damning enough, but there was plenty of supporting evidence. Connelly and his troupe all had paint residue on their skins and there were a couple of canisters in the boot of the father's car. There was clear evidence they'd been at Carpenter's house and had given no justification of why they might even have been in the vicinity.
Chapter 18
With Mary navigating, she and Sanjay arrived at the Mathewson house by mid-morning. They'd already made arrangements to see McPherson at his office afterwards.
It was only after the allocated spread of duties had been agreed that Mary thought to p
repare Sanjay by telling him about the Rottweilers. She normally liked dogs but was uncomfortable about their size and strength. She knew Sanjay wasn't happy with any dogs and even shied away from Yorkshire Terriers. It was, therefore, with some trepidation that he approached the entrance, perspiration shining from his brow, and this was exacerbated by the deep reverberations of barking. Their concerns, however, were unfounded, as due to their visit being expected, the dogs had already been shut into one of the back rooms. Agnes opened the door and showed them into the same lounge where they'd previously been. The lid of the piano was open and sheet music was stacked on it, indicating it had been recently played, but otherwise Mary considered the room looked the same as before. She ventured a quick glance at the music and saw it was mostly ragtime style, confirming her expectation that it wasn't consistent with mourning.
After a few moments, Georgina entered the room. She acknowledged Mary and held out her hand in introduction to Sanjay.
“Grant and Henry will be here in a moment.” Georgina stood in the doorway and introduced her sons as they arrived. They all went to take a seat, but Sanjay asked Georgina to leave them so he could speak to the boys alone. She seemed a little uncertain at first but accepted his request.
They noted the formal details then exchanged pleasantries, Sanjay and Mary seeking to put the boys at their ease.
“You only came back last night?”
Grant took the lead. “Yes, we were invited to stay with a friend who was having a party but thought it best to get home quicker. We flew from Zurich into London yesterday evening and then took the last shuttle up. We arrived home late last night.”
“How long have you been away?”
“We left ten days ago, on the eighth. We met up in London with my cousin and then went over for a week's skiing.”
“Your cousin you say?”
“Yes, well second or third cousin to be more precise. Tabatha's mother and Mum are first cousins. We stayed with her for a couple of days and then flew out on the eleventh. I've still got the tickets if you want to check. We flew British Airways; I think I still have the boarding cards as well.”
“Who else was there?”
“There were eight of us in total, ourselves, Tabatha and five others. We've been friends for years and it's an annual event when we all get together.”
“Can you give me names and addresses for everyone in your party?”
“Yes, I can, no problem, but surely we're not suspects?”
“No, don't worry. It's just routine so we can tick all the boxes and show that we've proven who was where and when. It's like police-work by numbers. You know, like in the Sherlock Homes quote, `When you eliminate the impossible, then whatever is left, however improbable, has to be the explanation.' ” Sanjay smiled lamely.
Grant nodded slowly. “So, was Dad definitely murdered?”
“Yes, we're now certain of that.”
“Have you any idea who did it?”
“The investigation is ongoing and we are still collecting evidence. Please tell us anything you know which may be even remotely relevant. Have you heard your father arguing with anybody or did he say anything about having any problems or being afraid of anyone?”
Grant and Henry exchanged knowing glances but said nothing.
“Have you something to tell us?” Sanjay goaded.
Grant remained silent but Henry spoke out for the first time. “There hasn't been anything unusual. Dad was always having little squabbles with people. We never really took much notice.”
“Who were the squabbles with?”
There was another exchange of glances and Grant gave an almost imperceptible nod. “Dad and Mum didn't always get along. When we were younger, they would argue all the time. More recently, they seemed to get along better.”
“Did they fight physically or was it just arguing?”
“No, it was never more than shouting.”
“Go on.”
“Dad sometimes fought with Grandpa and with Uncle Quentin.”
“And when you say `fought'?”
“No, again it was words, although I remember once, about a year or two ago, Quentin got really angry and threw a punch. Dad caught it in his hand and pushed Quentin away and then just laughed at him.”
“There was nothing more recent?”
“Not that I'm aware of.”
“What about anyone else?”
“He might have mentioned names, but nothing that meant anything to me.”
“Okay, thank you for your help.”
Sanjay and Mary were happy to escape to their car before the dogs were set loose again.
“Is that what they call the privileged classes?” Sanjay asked.
“Yes, they just go swanning off around the globe and never do a day's work in their lives,” Mary replied.
“It doesn't seem to do them very much good, they might have an easy life but they don't seem too happy with it.”
“I guess the more you have, the harder it is to find something to please you. It's a problem that I wouldn't mind having to deal with,” Mary answered.
“Let's move on, we've still to go and see Callum.”
A few minutes later, they were waved through the security gates into Benlochy and found Callum in his office working his way through correspondence delivered while he was away.
Both Sanjay and Mary did a double take when they saw him. He was completely bald, but apart from that difference, he was a younger version of Daniel Burns. Neither of them had actually seen Daniel in the flesh, but they could tell enough from seeing his photograph, and there was a distinct similarity to Quentin as well.
Anticipating their question, he offered, “No, I'm not related to the Burns family, at least I'm not considered to be related to the Burns family. My uncle is Patrick Gillespie. He grew up with Daniel and they were best friends. My mother was Patrick's young sister and she died when I was ten years old. The only memories I have of her are that she was very sick. She and my father were engaged when I was born and it doesn't take a genius to work out that my natural father was Daniel. Nobody's ever told me officially, but I don't need a DNA test to prove it. My father brought me up all by himself and I love him dearly. I'd never do anything to hurt him.”
The words seemed to flow out of Callum in one long release without requiring any prompting. “When I left school, I went to college, and after I got my qualifications, Uncle Patrick got me a job here. I started at the bottom working in the stores on minimum wage and I then worked in production before I tried out in other departments. At the same time, I did more studies using evening classes and correspondence courses. I got a BA degree and then I worked for my MBA. I worked my way up in the company by sheer hard graft. Nobody did me any favours, I wasn't given any time off for studies and I had to pay for it all myself. I worked hard and I earned my promotions. It took me years to make it to junior management and even longer to where I am now. I'm really doing a director's job, but I'm still not recognised at the top table and I don't get near to the salary paid to Samuel or Stanley for doing bugger all.”
Callum paused for a moment and then continued, “I'm really sorry, I don't know what you must think of me. I don't normally go around speaking to strangers about the company or the Burns family that way. No, I've never said these sorts of things in the past whether to strangers or anyone else. I guess I'm still a bit in shock with what's happened. I just started talking and it all came out. I'm sorry, here I am sounding off and that's not what you came here for.”
“Is everything you've said true?” Sanjay asked.
“Yes, I suppose it is. I've probably thought about it but I've never voiced those thoughts before.”
“In that case, please go on. We're still collecting information and we're happy to get all and any background you can give us. Tell us a bit more about what your job is and where it fits into the organisation.”
“My job title is Material's Manager, but that's only part of it. It's a strange position
because it crosses a lot of boundaries. I'm responsible for procurement, for identifying the best quality of raw materials, and then ensuring we buy them at the best price. From there, there's goods inwards inspection and quality control. Then there's stock control, ensuring we have enough of everything we need without the cost or waste of overstocking. I'm involved in overseeing the production and then, finally, I'm responsible for inventory management of the finished product. I have to be a Jack of all trades.”
“You sound a bit resentful.”
“No, not really. I wasn't born with a silver spoon in my mouth, not like the Burns family, so I've had to work for everything I've got, but that means I appreciate it. I know what it's like to go without, so everything I have means so much more than it would if it was just gifted to me.”
“And what roles do the Burns family have in the business?”
“That sounds a simple question but it isn't really. Up until Mr Daniel stood down, he was in overall control but got involved in every last detail of everyone else's job himself. He also chased after every bit of skirt he came across, so you'll probably find plenty more of his bastards around the country besides me.
“Quentin was in charge of marketing and sales and Hector looked after the office, although Uncle Patrick used to keep an eye on it too, to make sure it ran smoothly. Since Hector took over the reins, nothing much has changed except he didn't know enough to effectively interfere.”
“What about other family members?”
“They don't make much impact. Georgie looked after the office years ago, before she was married, and she was really good at it by all accounts. In recent years, she's hardly been involved in the day to day operations. She still attends board meetings though. I get to go to parts of them to deliver my reports, and from what I could see, she's been the only voice of sanity. No, maybe I'm being a bit harsh there, but it's true, she's by far the most able one of the whole family. Her kids, Grant and Henry, have never shown any interest. They've tried coming in to learn what goes on, but they've never lasted more than a few days. They didn't like working when it interrupted their playtime. They're not stupid and I wouldn't rule them out from being able to make a contribution one day, but they've still a bit of growing up to do before that day comes. It's the same thing with Quentin's kids, well not quite. Frank falls exactly into that category, but Samuel is different. Quentin has made him work here almost on a full-time basis and I don't think he minds being here, but the truth is, he's as thick as two short planks. A nice enough lad but he hasn't a clue about anything. He works with Quentin on the marketing and promotions, but that's just so Quentin can keep an eye on him and cover up his mistakes. He's convinced that one day a veil will lift and Samuel will suddenly be competent and ready to take over and run the whole business. There'll be a blue moon in the sky the day that happens.