Skinner's Mission

‘The girl we have now, Amy Innes, is fine. Carole chose her. We had difficulty a couple of years back, though, with her predecessor, Carl Medina.’

‘What sort of difficulties?’

‘Not to put too fine a point on it, he was at it.

‘There were sundry purchases unaccounted for. Carole reckoned that he was topping up his salary. I couldn’t be bothered setting traps for him or anything like that, so I just sacked him.’

Skinner looked sharply across the table. ‘How’d he take it?’

‘Badly, at first. He threatened me with an industrial tribunal.’

‘What did you threaten him with, Jackie?’

Charles looked at him coldly, with a flicker of a smile. ‘I never threaten people, Bob.’

‘No,’ said Martin, ‘but you know a man who does. So I guess Medina didn’t go to tribunal.’

‘No. He could see what the outcome would have been.’

‘I’ll bet! Have you seen or heard from him since?’

Charles shook his head. ‘Not directly. But I had a letter a couple of months ago from another dealer, the Renault chap in Gorgie, asking for a reference.’

‘What did you do?’

‘I declined to provide it, of course.’

‘Of course,’ said Martin, dryly. ‘Did you have any other employment problems at the showroom? With mechanics, for example?’

‘None at all. All our people are paid above the union rate, they all have overtime opportunities and they’ve all been with us long-term.’

‘Customers? Any disgruntled punters come to mind?’

Charles looked offended. ‘Mr Martin, I don’t have any disgruntled clients. I deal in quality motor cars, and they tend to be reliable. I give good warranty terms, and I never quibble about putting any problems right.’

‘I’ll know where to come for my next Ferrari then,’ said the Chief Superintendent, with a smile. It vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

‘You said that you had two full-time salesmen. Who else is there?’

‘There’s me for a start.’ His expression changed, betraying more than a touch of smugness. ‘I can still out-sell anyone on the lot, as the Americans say, and I like to prove it. I go down to Seafield for a few hours on most days. Very occasionally, my father will spend some time on the forecourt, just to keep his hand in, as it were.

‘But that’s all. No-one else on the selling side.’

‘When you go in to the showroom, is it at any set time of the day?’

‘In the afternoon normally.’

‘And you stay until . . . ?’

‘Until we close. If I’m there, and I am on most days, then I’m the chap who locks up.’

‘When would you leave, normally?’

‘Once I’ve checked over the day’s documentation, addressed and stamped the finance applications, locked away late cheques and new tax disks, seen that everything was in order in the workshop, and maybe made a couple of phone calls about interesting cars advertised for private sale; once I’ve done all that it’s usually about nine o’clock.’

‘So the murderer could have expected you to be on the premises at the time last night’s fire was started.’

Charles nodded. ‘If he knew anything about me, yes,’ he said quietly.

Andy Martin leaned back from the table. ‘Right, Mr Charles. So much for the dealership. Now let’s talk about your other interests?’

‘Which ones?’

‘Let’s start with loansharking, shall we? Could your heavies maybe have leaned on someone, or someone’s family, just a wee bit too hard? Can you think of anyone on your books who’s facing a doing, or worse, and might have decided to head it off?’

As Skinner and Martin looked across the table, they saw the professional mask with which they were so familiar descend across Jackie Charles’ face. ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ he said quietly, looking Martin, but not Skinner, in the eye.

‘Okay,’ said the Chief Superintendent. ‘Let’s have a go at the taxi business. You own, through front companies, forty-two per cent of the minicab licences in Edinburgh and around, and you extort protection money from the holders of the other fifty-eight per cent, or at least from those who don’t want to wake up to find their vehicles with no tyres or windscreen.

‘Have you had any threats arising from those activities? ’

‘Send a copy of that tape to my solicitor, please, Mr Martin, so that I can sue you.’

The Chief Superintendent ignored him. ‘How about your betting shops? You own five. You must have a few big losers.’

Charles shook his head. ‘I don’t allow credit to those who can’t afford it and my staff have orders to bar people if they think they might be losing too much.’

Martin laughed. ‘Okay, Jackie. So far you’re Simon Pure, without an enemy in the world. Only it seems bloody obvious that you do have an enemy. Could it be an associate from outside this city? Do you have information which might have made you dangerous to someone?’

‘What associates, Chief Superintendent? What information? ’

Suddenly Skinner leaned forward and picked up the tape recorder. He switched it off and put it back in his pocket. ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘Enough of the ritual dancing. Let’s get on with our job, Andy.’

He stood up, Martin rising with him, and looked down at Charles, fixing him with his gaze. ‘This may be a waste of time, but I’ll warn you anyway, Jackie. Don’t get in our way here.

‘If I’m given the slightest evidence that you know who might have done this, and are keeping it back from us so that you can take your own revenge, then I’ll charge you with withholding information. I might not get a conviction, but imagine what it would do to your social reputation around town.’

‘I should fucking care!’ Charles’ face was set rock-hard as he spat out each word. He stood up. ‘When can I plan my wife’s funeral?’ he asked coldly.

‘When the Crown Office says that you can. I don’t know yet when that might be; but in the meantime just don’t be planning to bury anyone else!’

7

‘D’you think he knows who did it, Boss?’ asked Andy Martin as he turned off Comely Bank towards the headquarters building.

Skinner, in the passenger seat, shrugged his shoulders. ‘You can never be sure with Jackie, but I don’t think so. I’ll tell you one thing though: we’ll have started him thinking.

‘We’d better find that guy Medina before Jackie. Otherwise, guilty or innocent, he’s liable to find himself being cremated by a blowlamp from the toes up!

‘You’re in charge of this investigation,’ he said, ‘but you’ll need more than your own staff.’

‘That’s right,’ said Martin, holding his pass out of the window for inspection by the officer on the main car park gate. ‘The crime was committed on Dave Donaldson’s patch, so he’s up for it. I’ve called him and Maggie in to see me at midday.’ He glanced at the Mondeo’s digital clock. ‘They should be here by now.’

‘Mmm,’ muttered Skinner, thoughtfully. ‘That reminds me. Andy, when’s the next Senior Command Course at the College?’

‘Next September. Why?’

‘Because I want Maggie on it. She’s come up through the ranks nearly as fast as you have . . . it’s been faster than I intended for both of you, but you can never foresee the way things will work out. She’s got Command Corridor written all over her, and we should prepare her for it.’

‘What about Donaldson? Won’t he be huffed if we send her?’

Skinner shook his head slightly. ‘He’s got it in him too, but he’s more openly ambitious. He’ll see you lined up