‘That guy Muckle McInsh said he came in here and found the body. We’re obviously going to interview him first and his little friend, Shug. I’m not saying they look old enough to have put the old man in the wall, but what if they found out where he was hidden? We have to ask ourselves why they would want to get him out of the wall. Maybe they were being paid. Then again, why not finish the job? If Clive was dead, then why didn’t they finish? Unless they were interrupted.’
Dunbar put a hand up. ‘Let me stop you there, Harry. Muckle McInsh didn’t kill Clive. I would put money on it.’
‘How can you be so sure?’
‘You know my DI, Tom Barclay?’
‘I’ve heard you talk about him, yes.’
‘Muckle McInsh was my DI, back in the day. He didn’t want to let on he knew me. I taught him everything I know. He left to come over to this shithole five or six years ago. Oliver Wolf made him an offer he couldn’t refuse. And Muckle’s wife was only too happy to make the move. So trust me, neighbour, if Muckle had murdered Clive, he wouldn’t have left him on display. He’s far too clever for that. But we’ll talk to him anyway, just for the record.’
Eight
‘About fucking time,’ Fenton Wolf said, standing up when the two senior detectives walked into the room.
Muckle McInsh was sitting down on a comfy chair, dozing. Sparky jumped up to his feet and started snarling when Fenton made a move towards Muckle.
‘Easy, boy,’ Muckle said.
‘Aye, you tell that fucking dog,’ Fenton said.
Muckle didn’t even open his eyes. ‘I was talking to you, arsehole.’
‘You hear the way he’s talking to me?’ Fenton spat, pointing a finger at the big man, which only served to rattle the dog even further.
‘Sit down, Mr Wolf,’ Dunbar said in a tone that wasn’t meant to be contradicted.
‘Why don’t you arrest him?’ Fenton said, standing his ground. ‘He’s the one who murdered my brother.’
Now Muckle opened his eyes. ‘Unlike you, dafty, I wouldn’t have left a trail.’
‘Mr McInsh, DCI McNeil and I would like a word,’ Dunbar said, addressing Muckle.
‘Can I bring the dog?’
‘Fine by me.’
‘We can go over the other interviews when we come back out,’ Harry said to Alex.
She nodded. ‘What a bunch, honestly. I’m glad I’m not related to any of them.’
Harry followed Dunbar, McInsh and the German Shepherd out of the room and into what rich folks might call a library.
‘Where’s your pal?’ Harry asked. ‘Angus Kendal.’
‘He was here a minute ago. I’ll give him a call.’ Muckle did so and hung up. ‘He was away to the lavvy. He’ll be here in a minute.’
They settled down and waited for Shug. The small man appeared a moment later. ‘I held off as long as possible, but when a man’s got to go…’
‘Sit down, son,’ Dunbar said. ‘We want to know where you were twenty-four hours ago.’ He sat on a chair near the two men, who had taken a pew on a leather couch. Harry sat on a desk chair and twirled it round to face the room.
‘That’s easy,’ Muckle said. ‘Me and Shug were helping to set up the shindig for this weekend’s memorial. Over at the hotel. There were caterers setting up tables, doing all sorts of stuff. It took us hours. We were there from around nine in the morning until about six. Both of us. You can talk to the staff there. The solicitor fella asked us if we could oversee it as Oliver’s sons are a bunch of balloons. His words.’
‘No offence, pal, but we’ll have to check. Just to rule you both out.’
‘I wouldn’t expect anything less, sir. It’s what I would do,’ Muckle said. ‘But the solicitor was there too.’
Dunbar smiled at his old colleague. ‘How’s life been treating you here on the island?’
‘Pretty well. Until Oliver passed away. Me and Shug quit our jobs last night. We spoke to the solicitor a few months back, and he told us everything was going to take a while to finalise, but he asked if we could stay on as security to make sure the properties were safe. The tenants had been asked to leave and most were fine with it, and one or two gave some opinion, but they moved out. The houses have been empty ever since.’
‘Did you work in Glasgow as well?’ Harry asked Shug.
The smaller man shook his head. ‘No. I started off life in uniform on the island here. I’m from here.’
‘And you decided working for Oliver Wolf was a better proposition?’
Muckle looked at Harry, and Sparky perked his ears up, ever alert. ‘Relax, boy,’ he said and the dog put his head back down on the carpet.
‘Let me tell you,’ he started to say before Shug could answer. ‘That laddie showed me nothing but respect from the moment I came here, but that fucking clown of an inspector treated me like shite. That kind of bollocks doesn’t bother me, but Wee Shug here is gay. Nothing wrong with that. I couldn’t give two hoots. In fact, he’s one of my best friends. But that numpty inspector called him all sorts of names. And to his face nonetheless. I heard him being homophobic to Shug one day and I got wired into him.’
Shug nodded. ‘Aye, it was getting too much. I mean, I can take a lot of shit, but he was getting relentless. Then Muckle came to me with an offer.’
Muckle nodded. ‘I spoke to Oliver Wolf. Said I could do with another man beside me, somebody I could trust. That man was Shug. Oliver agreed; he’d always liked Shug. And when the inspector complained, I told him to go fuck himself and Shug was on the payroll.’
‘Where’s that inspector now?’
‘Gone. He was emptied out by all accounts. Now it’s Sergeant Turnbull in charge until a new one arrives. Turnbull is an even bigger balloon
