by Zach Abrams
They arrived at Ibrox with plenty of time to spare and purchased a programme and beakers of Coke for each of them before going to their seats. The stadium was full with more than fifty thousand spectators. McCoist's plea had been heard, and despite the recent adversity, the fans were in carnival spirit and in full voice ready to cheer on their team, the Warren family amongst them. A rapturous roar greeted the players to the pitch and the game got underway. Rangers made a reasonably confident start and came very close to scoring in the opening phase when an Edu header was cleared off the line, but the optimism was short-lived when, after twelve minutes, Shiel left the Rangers defence in tatters to score for Kilmarnock. From this point, the enthusiasm of the Rangers' support waned. Kilmarnock had the best of the action and both sides had further chances, but Rangers fortunes took a further turn for the worse when Papac was sent off shortly before half time. The second half continued in the same vein with many wasted opportunities, particularly by the visitors. The game ended at the same scoreline of 1-0 with Rangers losing the game and their undefeated home record. Alex and the boys were amongst the stream of dejected supporters leaving the stadium.
“It's been a really crappy day all round,” was Andrew's concluding remark.
On the way back to their car, Alex checked his phone and saw a missed call from Donny and a text message left by Sandra. `Much to catch up on. I still have dessert if you want to come over after the game???'
Alex smiled at the prospect then texted back, `Still have boys until tomorrow.'
Almost immediately a reply came, `Bring them too, maybe it's time we met.'
Alex pondered the possibilities. He really wanted his relationship to be in the open and to have his sons get to know Sandra. It would make life much easier and be good for them all, but until the work situation was sorted, it would be too big a risk. It was too soon. With some regret, he texted back, `Sorry, already have plans, we'll arrange for another time, talk later'.
Seeing the changes in Alex's expression as he was thinking, Craig enquired, “What's that about?”
“Just work, some developments in my case that I'll need to check into later.”
Craig's frowned response indicated he hadn't carried off his lie very well.
As they drove home, Alex realised he hadn't made any plans for the boy's dinner. Ordinarily, he enjoyed serving something homemade. When he had time, he'd cook with the boys, involving them in the preparation and treating it as a family activity. When there wasn't time, he's produce something from the freezer that he'd prepared at an earlier time. Today, he'd started his morning at Sandra's then rushed in and out of his own flat before going into his office and he hadn't thought to lift anything for them to eat. By the time they reached home it would be approaching six p.m. and the boys would most likely be ravenous so there wouldn't be an opportunity to cook. Alex considered his options. They could go for a Pizza or a burger, they could pick up a carry-out Indian or Chinese or he could detour to the supermarket and pick up some food to assemble.
Alex put the options to the boys, expecting them to choose MacDonalds or Pizza Hut, but to his surprise they wanted to assemble their own supper. He drove straight to Morrisons' Newlands store, only a few hundred yards from his flat. They picked out a trolley and went straight to the deli section.
He recognised the same type of pâté and pie which Sandra had selected from the Partick store the previous evening, but steered the boys first to pick up some pre-prepared salads, choosing coleslaw, potato salad and pasta. They then added various sliced cold meats and some pieces of rotisserie chicken, a bag of chopped lettuce, cherry tomatoes, a red pepper and a freshly baked bloomer loaf. For dessert they selected a large tub of profiteroles. In all, it comprised a very fine feast.
“Can we watch a movie tonight?” Craig asked.
“I don't think I have anything suitable you haven't already seen. Let's have a look in the entertainment aisle and see if there's anything worthwhile,” Alex suggested.
As they turned the corner with their trolley, they almost knocked over a young lady who was teetering about wearing impossible shoes. As they watched her recover and totter off into the distance, they realised they had not really been responsible for her instability, but instead it was self-imposed. She was slender with long blonde hair and was naturally of medium height, but this was falsely exaggerated by her platform soles which were about two inches thick and her heels that were six inches in height. She seemed to stagger down the aisle like a tightrope walker, flapping her arms to keep from falling over.
“I reckon she thinks she's Barbie,” Andrew whispered.
“More like one of the original Thunderbirds team,” Alex responded.
“Who are they?” Andrew asked.
“It was before your time. Before my time even, but I used to watch it on TV. It was an adventure programme using string puppets that moved about with the same staggered steps she was making.”
“Hey, there's a DVD with the same name,” Craig suggested, but that was as far as their interest went and the boys started working their way through the shelves looking for something that appealed to both. While they were looking, Alex quickly identified some other shopping items he needed. By the time he'd returned, the boys had chosen to buy the recent Bond movie, Quantum of Solace.
Ten minutes later, they were back in the flat, setting the table and laying out their purchases so they could eat buffet style. Although both boys ate heartily, there was still plenty of food to spare so Alex carefully stored the leftovers in his fridge.
As Alex set up the film to play, he enquired how the boys wanted to spend Sunday.
“I thought I'd said,” Andrew replied, “I'm invited to go snowboarding with Zander and a couple of my other classmates. It's Zander's birthday and his folks are taking us to Xscape at the Braehead Arena.”
“If the weather gets much worse, you'll all be able to snowboard in Overlea Park, his folks won't have to pay a fortune for the indoor facility,” Craig quipped.
“You didn't say. How are you getting there?” Alex asked.
“His Dad's got a people carrier. It will easily get us all in. I've to be picked up from the house at one. Is that okay?”
“Yeah, sure. What about you Craig?”
“I'm meeting Jenny and the crowd at the ice rink at two. Can you take me there or drop me off early enough?”
“No problem,” Alex started the DVD, thinking he'd have Sunday afternoon free after all. While the film was running he slipped through to the bedroom and dialled Sandra's mobile.
“Hi, Sandra, sorry I couldn't really talk before. How was your day?”
“It started really well, as you might remember, but went a bit downhill after that. Nothing bad and I've been very busy, but this morning was a hard act to follow. What about you?”
Alex brightened at the recollection. “Same as you, good start but not so good to follow. I've had a pleasant afternoon with the boys but the game was dire. Are you home now?”
“Yes, I've had a snack and I'm just putting my feet up in front of the box. There's nothing much on, but it's really cosy. Pity you can't be here too. I'm just toying with the idea of opening the dessert you brought. My problem is I know my own weaknesses, and if I do open it, then I'll most likely eat the whole thing.”
“A girl's got to do what a girl's got to do.”
“Very philosophical. What are you doing anyway?”
“We've just eaten and I've set up the DVD for Craig and Andrew to watch a Bond film.”
“In that case, maybe I should come to you and bring the dessert with me.”
“There's nothing I'd love more but we need to get the work situation sorted first. If you did come over, then the boys are certain to say something to Helen and I can't be confident she won't say the wrong thing to the wrong person and land me in the shit.”
“Do you think she's malicious? Would she do that?”
“I'm not saying it would be out of malice, but there's a strong chanc
e it could happen.”
“Following what we were talking about last night, I saw an ad for a coordination officer looking at assembling information about CID's across the country. The job's centrally based, Glasgow or Edinburgh, with travel to each of the constabularies. It's not ideal because it would take me away from the front line, but I've asked for more info and I'll see what it entails.”
“That was quick.”
“I've not got it yet but I thought I needed to start looking. It could take a while and there's no point in waiting.”
“You're right, of course, and I'm pleased but I'm sorry too. I enjoy working with you.”
“Well, talking about work, I'd better give you an update on what's happened today.”
Sandra ran through all the day's developments from her interviews and from Sanjay's as well as Anne Dixon's email. She finished by advising Alex her plan was to go and see Daniel Burns at about noon and she warned, “There's something else. As we're just about finished seeing everyone and collecting evidence on site at Benlochy, I'd like to give the go ahead to our fraud people to start their investigation. No doubt that will mean bringing in the tax and duty investigators as well.”
“Okay, go ahead; give them a call in the morning. As soon as I'm clear of the boys, I'll come out too. I can pick up Sanjay, Donny and Mary and we can meet at Benlochy, finish off there and clear out all our stuff. That will mean the distillery can get back to normal operation from the start of the week, at least as normal as they can manage after what's already happened and with an ongoing fraud and duty enquiry.”
Chapter 21
Sandra slept fitfully. She was still adjusting to her new bed and this was her first night in the flat alone. Following her evening of passion with Alex and her somewhat intense day, she decided to go to bed early. She'd quickly fallen into a light sleep but was awoken only minutes later by the sound of a car horn outside. She stumbled over to the window to check if there was a problem to find it was only a teenager, on his way to a night of clubbing, beckoning to his friends to hurry up. Sandra returned to bed but found it impossible to return to her slumbers. She made the fatal mistake of considering her plans for the day ahead, and it triggered her mind becoming alert, going over and over the various elements of the case trying to focus on any small detail which may have been hitherto overlooked. Thoughts of changing her job entered her thinking, but then it returned to the case. She knew that if she were to decide on a move then she'd be even more desperate to have her current work concluded first.
She tried counting sheep, hoping it might help, but to no avail. First the sheep started to adopt the heads of potential suspects in the case and then her mind wandered to other farmyard metaphors as she contemplated the bull-like physique of Hector Mathewson impregnating Alyth Spencer. Sandra tried to dismiss the vision but it returned every time she closed her eyes. She climbed out of bed and made some tea, hoping the hot drink would help her become drowsy enough for sleep, but it didn't work, and worse still, just when she started to slumber again, she had an overwhelming need to urinate.
Sandra remembered watching the minutes tick by announcing midnight, one o'clock and two o'clock after which it all became rather vague.
At seven-thirty, she crawled from bed. She had a headache and felt groggy as she dragged herself into the shower. Turning the jets on full, she immersed herself under the hot stream hoping she'd be revived. This had limited success and, albeit for a different purpose, she tried Alex's technique of turning the thermostat to full cold. She couldn't tolerate more than a few seconds but she was now wide awake. Sandra grabbed a towel and roughly, almost harshly, rubbed her skin as much to warm her and restore her circulation as to get dry. Her complexion was pale with some areas more red than pink, from the abusive treatment she's administered drying herself. She caught a glimpse in the mirror before quickly dressing and considered some makeup would be required. Knowing she'd again be seeing Daniel Burns, and seeking to guard her legs from his lecherous eyes, she selected a demure but stylish trouser suit. She carefully applied a light touch of cosmetics to give her a modicum of colour and conceal the heaviness of her eyes. Satisfied with the result she locked the flat and drove to her office to prepare for the day ahead.
* * *
On schedule, she and Phil arrived at Burns's house shortly after midday.
As previously, the door was opened by Travers and they were shown to the Drawing Room. “I'll advise Mr Daniel that you're here.”
A short while later, Burns was escorted into the room and sat opposite them in his armchair.
“I trust you're here to tell me you've solved the case and we can all get back to normal.”
“I'm sorry, Mr Burns, that's not the reason for our visit. We have made significant progress but we're not quite ready to make any announcements yet. We have nearly finished the work which has to be based on site at Benlochy, so from our point of view, the business will be able to go back to normal from tomorrow.”
“So why are you here?”
“We have some further questions and I did specifically say `from our point of view.' As a result of information we have gathered, there is likely to be some investigations of other matters not pertaining to the murder.”
“What are you talking about? What investigations?”
“If you don't mind, we'll ask the questions.” Sandra was determined to retain control. “When we were here on Thursday, you told us about the tunnel.”
“To be more precise, you asked me about the tunnel and I answered your questions.”
“Yes, thank you for clarifying that. It serves to emphasise you didn't volunteer the information. What you didn't tell us then was about the cave.”
“What cave? There are lots of caves.”
“The cave off the side of the tunnel which has been used to store and bottle illegal hooch.”
“I don't know what you're talking about.”
“We think you do. We think you know exactly what we're talking about. We're talking about the illegal production facility which you set up.”
“You're talking rubbish. I know nothing about any such operation. Anyway, even if you have found something, how could I be implicated? I've not been directly involved in the business for more than three years.”
“That's our point; some of the barrels we've found are much older than that.”
“So what does it matter if they have come from the time when I was in charge or if later? Who's to say Hector didn't steal older barrels and take them in there?”
“So are you trying to tell us it was Hector's fault? We don't think so. The quality of the inventory control system which Callum put in proves that was not possible. If barrels had been stolen after they'd been filled, it would show as a discrepancy on the stock system, so they must have gone missing prior to being registered into the stock control and that makes it your responsibility.”
Burns looked shocked. “There's no way you can prove anything.”
“We don't need to, all we're trying to do is solve a murder, but some of our fraud investigation colleagues will be having a closer look and we imagine so too will the customs and duty investigation squad, hence my earlier caution.”
“You're flying kites. I don't see how you can have any evidence which implicates me.”
“We understand that, in the early days, you didn't have any time for Hector Mathewson, but that suddenly changed. We suspect that he found out about your covert activities and he blackmailed you so you would support him in exchange for him keeping his mouth shut. With regard to having evidence to implicate you, we'll leave that to Customs and I'm sure you'll already be aware they don't have a reputation for being gentle.”
“There's nothing whatsoever you can pin on me. I can get the media to support me. We are one of the biggest and most powerful businesses in Scotland, so you'll never be able to do anything that can hurt us.”
“That's where you're wrong. Maybe you've not been following the news, but I think if you do,
you'll find that Benlochy is very small compared with Rangers Football Club, and if the tax man can bring down an organisation the size of Rangers, then I don't think you have any grounds to feel safe.”
As Burns digested Sandra's words, his face went red and he started to shake. His hand reached down and grasped one of the heavy Caithness ornaments.
At first, she imagined he was just seeking solace from touching the tactile decorative glass and realised when it was almost too late that he was securing a weapon. Burns's grasp tightened around the heavy ornament and it was to their utter amazement when he lifted and hurled the object with considerable force, aimed straight at Sandra's head.
“Bloody bitch,” he yelled aloud.
Sandra's reactions were fast and reflexive. She moved to the left, simultaneously raising her right hand to parry the assault, but not as quickly as she would have liked. The glass flew past her face at great velocity, crashing and then splintering against the wall, but on its way grazing the surface of Sandra's cheek and splitting the skin as it went.
Phil's first reaction was to check to ensure Sandra was not seriously hurt, but then he was out of his seat, bearing down on Burns. “That's quite a temper and a mighty powerful right arm you have there. I wonder what else you've been capable of.”
Before he reached halfway across the gap between them, Travers appeared in the doorway, pointing a shotgun at Phil's chest, and he looked as if he knew how to use it. “Get back in your seat,” he snarled.
Phil stopped mid-pace. He'd never faced the business end of a firearm before, and not being at all comfortable with the prospect, he followed the instruction.
Sandra was quaking inside, but given the circumstances, she conveyed the impression of being remarkably composed. She was aware of the warm trickle of blood, but she ignored it and the stinging feeling on her face and instead tried to play for time. “I didn't tell you the whole truth when I said we weren't ready to make an arrest. We suspected that you could have killed Hector and now you've removed the doubt. We know that you've hated him for a long time but we need you to help us out here. What was it that made you finally flip?” As she spoke, her hand cautiously slid into the pocket of her trouser suit. Her phone was there; she'd activated the silent button before coming in to start the interview. Her fingers were trembling and she fought to control them. Working solely using sense of touch and based on her memory of the positions of the keys and of the menu system, Sandra coded a search for the last received call and then pressed the send button, knowing if she got it right it ought to connect to Alex. She had no way of knowing if she'd succeeded, but hoping she had, she felt for a paper tissue and scrunched it in front of the earpiece to muffle any incoming sound. She then removed her hand to enable it to be in plain view.