by Zach Abrams
“Next there's Stanley. The only time we see him is for board meetings, and in his case, they'd be better described as bored meetings, spelt B-O-R-E-D. He doesn't try to follow what's going on and sits dozing or sketching on a pad. He really has no interest and comes along only because he feels he has to so he can collect his fees and indulge in the hospitality. I think his father insisted on him attending and it became a habit, because he still did with Hector in charge. Mind you the reason might have been more so he was able to piss off Quentin. In all the years I've known them, I've yet to hear a kind word exchanged. As for Quentin and Hector, they were as bad, they detested the sight of each other, and Stanley would sometimes get involved just to wind up Quentin even more. It wasn't unusual for Mr Daniel or Georgie to have to keep the peace.”
“And where do you fit in with all of this?” Sanjay asked.
“What do you mean? I've already told you what I do.”
“That's not what I'm asking. Where do you fit in with the family dynamic?”
“I don't. I'm not considered part of the family. Nobody wants to know my opinion or what I think unless it's specifically to do with the job and not always even then. I've learned to keep my head down and just get on with it.”
“What's your relationship like with each of them?”
“I'm tolerated and I tolerate them, what more can I say?”
“How about your true feelings? Give me a one statement summary on each of them.”
Callum thought for several moments and then there was the flicker of a smile. “Okay, I'll give it a try. Daniel Burns is a tyrant, a despot really, or that's how he acted until he took ill and he's not too much better now. Hector's a dreamer, or was,” he corrected. “Big on ideas, small on ability and application. Georgie is smart and able but not really involved very much now. Quentin would be absolutely brilliant if he was only a fraction as good as he thinks he is. Samuel is a waste of space. Stanley knows nothing and the other boys aren't interested.”
“So who'd have a reason to want to kill Hector?”
“What? You don't think it was one of the family do you?”
“I didn't say it was but we can't rule it out, so who do you think?”
“I really couldn't say. Quentin hated Hector with a passion but I couldn't see him killing him.”
“And what about you?”
“What? Why would I want to kill Hector?”
“Why don't you tell us?”
“I didn't. I wouldn't. Who's said something?”
“I didn't say anyone had said anything, but what are you afraid they might have said?”
“Nothing. Oh, I don't know. I didn't always see eye to eye with Hector and there might even have been occasions when we had words, but I never wanted him dead.”
“So what did you argue about? If you're innocent, then you've nothing to fear by telling us.”
“There were plenty of occasions where we didn't agree, but that's what running a business is about – different people with different opinions and then debating them to find the right solution.”
“But you just told us they didn't value your opinion.”
“They did sometimes. Okay, we did have some arguments, but it was only ever about business and it was only ever talk.”
“So tell us more.”
“A couple of years ago, not long after Hector became MD, he wanted us to start chill filtering the whisky. He read somewhere that some of the international markets preferred it as it made the whisky clearer, particularly when water or ice was added. I told him he was talking nonsense. It may make the whisky clearer, but it takes away some of the taste and it would lose a lot more business than it stood to gain. He wasn't convinced and the argument went on for weeks. Eventually, he backed down, but only after Georgie took my side. There were other occasions when we had a dispute about the labelling. He approved a printers spec spelling whisky with an 'e' – the American or Irish way. If I hadn't spotted it and corrected it we could have lost a fortune. How could he be a director of a company like this and not know that type of fundamental? Even Samuel wouldn't make a mistake like that.”
“Okay, let's move on. You've been away for the last couple of days. I'd like you to tell me about the details of your journey, when you left, where you went, etc.”
“I travelled up to Inverness on Wednesday afternoon and stayed at the company flat. I had my first meeting on Thursday morning at ten a.m. I can show you my diary; it's got a note of my itinerary.”
“Yes, that would help. On Wednesday, did you meet or see anyone on your journey or when you got there?”
“Not that I can think of. I left here at four; I think I arrived at about seven.”
“Did you go for a meal, maybe speak to other customers or staff in a restaurant, or did you make any purchases where we could check your receipt?”
Callum thought for a moment. “I need to confess, I bought a fish supper. There was no receipt. The girl in the shop might remember me because I've been there before and we chatted while I was waiting for the chips to fry up. I'm serious about it being a confession. My wife will kill me if she finds out. I'm meant to be losing weight and chippies are meant to be a no-no.”
“Was there anywhere else?”
“I stopped for diesel just before I got there. I bought it using a fuel card, so they'll have a note of my registration and the time.”
“What did you do on Wednesday night?”
“After the chippie, I went back to the flat and just watched television.”
“So nobody else saw you?”
“I guess not.”
“And potentially you still had time to come back from Inverness, kill Hector and get back up there in good time for your meeting.”
“Except I didn't. My mileage records will show that.”
“There's still the train, or a hire car.”
“Check all you like, you won't find anything because I didn't do anything.”
“We'll obviously have to check out what you've told us. Now, we understand that you're very interested in politics?”
“Isn't everyone?”
“Maybe, I should have said you're involved in politics and you're passionate about your beliefs.”
“Yes, that's true. But don't you think that's a good thing? Shouldn't we all want what's best for our country and be ready to stand up and be counted? That's precisely what we'll get the chance to do next year in the referendum, and I hope you'll agree that we'd be far better off as an independent Scotland, free from the shackles of Westminster. Scotland would be so much better on its own; we have all the resources. It's not just the oil, that's all been mortgaged anyway. We have water, we have green energy, the most advanced in Europe, and of course, there's food and drink. We export salmon and shellfish, but best of all, we have whisky. Scotch whisky exports amounts to four billion pounds a year and Scotland sees precious little of the benefit.”
“Thanks for the party political broadcast, but we're not here to speak about our political beliefs and we're only interested in yours to the extent that they might have a bearing on our investigation.”
“Why should it have a bearing on the investigation?”
“Well, you've already made it very clear that you're passionate about your country and you feel strongly against it being exploited.”
“Yes, we've had more than enough of being raped and pillaged by the English.”
“Is it just the English you're against, or are you generally xenophobic?”
“It's not just the English and I'm not xenophobic, but I will fight against injustice. I'm not prejudiced. I just want a fair deal.”
“So you admit you'll fight for what you believe in?”
“Yes, that's what I'm telling you, I'll keep campaigning so we get the right answer at the ballot box next year.”
“It's not the ballot box we're interested in. You'll fight for what you believe in, but just how far would you go to support your beliefs? If you thought Hector was going to sel
l out this distillery, a vital part of your precious whisky trade, and he was going to do a deal so it was owned by someone overseas, how far would you go to stop him?”
Callum stopped speaking and his jaw dropped as he assembled his thoughts. “Are you telling me that Hector was really trying to sell us out. I heard the odd rumour or two but I dismissed them as nonsense. I often hear the biggest load of rubbish about everyone and everything so I never pay it any heed.”
“You're not seriously telling us you knew nothing about it?”
“I swear to God. If I'd known, I'd have fought him all the way, and by that I mean I'd have tried to reason with him and I'd have enlisted as much support as I could to help me.”
“What, from other Nationalists?”
“Not only them, from anyone with any common sense. There are plenty of Nationalists in the company who would fight it, but Quentin's a Tory and I think he'd have fought him as much as me.”
“Yes, we're speaking to him too, as you'd expect.”
Callum was starting to look worn out and haggard, his shoulders drooped and his eyes looked strained. “Is that all?”
“No, not quite. There's another matter we'd like to discuss with you and it falls firmly within your area of responsibility.”
Callum looked up expectantly.
“What can you tell us about the tunnel?”
“What tunnel?”
“The tunnel that runs out of the cask room and through to the other side of the hill.”
“I know nothing about it. I've heard stories that in the early days there was some sort of secret operation before the distillery was made legal. I don't know what you've been told but I wouldn't waste your time listening to old wives tales.”
“It's not just a story; we've seen it and we've been in it. Surely you must have known about it. You must have come across it when the refurb was done and the shop was built?”
“I'm telling you I know nothing about it. Hector looked after the refurb himself. But why should it matter anyway?”
“Well, that's the interesting part and the one that you're not going to be able to talk your way out of. There's a cave off from the tunnel that's been used for bootlegging whisky. Product has been removed from the distillery, then taken there for storage and bottling in order to evade the duties and taxes.”
Callum's face turned chalk white and his hand began to quiver. “I know nothing about it,” he uttered in little more than a whisper.
“But you've just being telling us how important your job is and how you control the quality and the quantity of the inventory. You're the Material Controller. How could this be going on without you being aware? You must have been playing a key role.”
“I know nothing about it,” Callum repeated, slightly louder this time. “How much was involved?”
Ignoring his question, Sanjay continued, “Well, you'd better start doing some quick thinking. We're only here to investigate the murder, but some of our colleagues who are specialists in fraud investigation have already been alerted and they'll want to speak to you, and I'd be really surprised if Her Majesty's tax and duties investigators won't be looking for you as well.”
Chapter 19
“Yakimoto can see us right away and I think we need to take the opportunity while we can. He's only in Glasgow until this afternoon as he's already booked on a flight to London, then he's going on to Paris on Monday. He's staying in a suite at the Hilton and he's offered to see us there. I took the initiative to say we'd be there in half an hour. It's close enough, we can walk.” Phil blurted out his news the moment Sandra re-entered the room.
“You did the right thing,” she replied reassuringly. “What have you told him?”
“I explained we were the police and that we were investigating a suspicious death. I told him Hector was dead and that was why he'd failed to attend their planned meeting on Thursday. I told him we'd picked up Hector's phone and were aware of the messages left.”
“Okay, let's make a move. It'll take a good few minutes to get there.”
The lobby was quiet when Sandra and Phil presented themselves at the marble clad desk. After first checking with their guest, the receptionist directed them to the bank of elevators and gave them the room number.
A small, immaculately dressed Japanese gentleman held open the door on their approach. He gave a curt nod and held out a business card for each of them.
Sandra and Phil replied by showing their warrant cards for identification and were escorted into a lounge area where they were invited to sit.
“We understand that you don't have very much time and we're grateful for you agreeing to see us,” Sandra opened.
“I was pleased to hear from you as it at least allows me to make some sense out of what has turned out to be a wasted journey.” He was soft spoken and accented but his voice was clear and precise.
“Was your meeting with Mathewson your only reason for visiting Glasgow?”
“Yes, it was. I have been to Scotland many times and I have visited your beautiful city before. My only reason for coming this week was to see Mr Mathewson.”
“Can you tell me the purpose of the meeting?”
“No, I cannot say, it was a private matter.”
“Was he offering to sell Benlochy to you?”
Yakimoto's eyes opened wide. “This was meant to be a private matter between the two of us. I was told that I should not discuss it with anyone else at the company or the deal would be off.”
“Deal? You'd already reached the stage where a deal was agreed?”
“Not exactly. We had discussed me buying his company and he had prepared a document especially for me. It was a formal `Information Memorandum' giving key details required to value the business. I had indicated how much I would be prepared to pay and he asked me to fly over to agree a deal. The price was only indicative and was subject to due diligence.”
“That sounds fairly advanced. Are you aware of the ownership structure at Benlochy?”
“Of course, but Mr Mathewson told me if we were able to agree a deal, then he was confident that he could deliver it.”
“Did he tell you that you were the only company he was considering?”
“Not in those words, but he strongly implied it. He said if I came up with the figure he wanted, then he wouldn't have to talk to anyone else.”
“So you didn't know he was already speaking to other companies as well.”
A flash of anger shone from Yakimoto's eyes. “He most certainly didn't. I don't like auctions and I don't do business with cheats and scoundrels. It's a matter of honour. I can see now this was always going to be a wasted journey.”
“Did Mathewson make mention of wanting to sell anything other than the basic distillery?”
“The memorandum showed the distillery, the land it stands on, some woodlands and other properties and, of course, the brands, the stocks and the sales contracts.”
“There was no secondary storage and supply lines?”
Yakimoto looked quizzically. “No, I'm certain.”
“Thank you again for seeing us. I believe that will be all, but we have your card in case we have any more questions. I'm sorry your time has been wasted.”
Travelling back down in the lift, Sandra felt her phone vibrate. She lifted it from her pocket, switched off the silent, and engaged the call. The display showed Donny's number.
“Sandra, I've had a bit of a breakthrough. I was tracing the other numbers on Mathewson's phone directory, looking at any that we hadn't already identified. There was a mobile number which, when I tracked it down, I found he bought himself. I didn't see any other way to take it forward so I just dialled it. A girl answered. I asked if it was Hector Mathewson's phone and she answered it wasn't but that he'd given it to her. I asked who she was and she replied `his fiancée.' I was rather taken aback but I tried not to show it. She didn't sound too bright which might have helped. I told her I was from the police and we needed to speak to her as soon as possibl
e. I asked her to come in here. She agreed and said she'd come to the office. I couldn't get through to the Boss, so I thought I'd better let you know straight away.”
“You did the right thing. We've just finished with Yakimoto and we'll be back in a few minutes. Did she say anything about Mathewson being dead?”
“No, she didn't and I thought it best not to say anything, not `till she was here anyway.”
“Quite right. Did you get her name?”
“Yes, Alyth, Alyth Spencer, she said. She lives with her parents in Balloch, the one at Cumbernauld, not Loch Lomond. So don't rush, it may take a while for her to get here.”
“This could be interesting. Send the Boss a text. No wait, cancel that, I'll talk to him later.”
* * *
Sandra and Phil led Alyth to an interview room. She was an attractive girl of medium height with a clear complexion, green eyes, long blonde curly hair and curves in all the right places, but her eyes had a blankness where a sparkle might have turned her prettiness to true beauty. She was aged in her early twenties and dressed in a cotton frock intended more for summer wear, but it was compensated by a wool, thigh-length coat.
Sandra wondered about the accuracy of Anne's speculation but restrained herself from asking Alyth if she had a mole on her breast or a bunion on her toe. The scene of crime team was renowned for its resourcefulness, but the fear that Anne's musings could have been correct might have raised suspicions of witchcraft.