sometimes. Two of the guys in the squad were cal ed Bart and Sandy; I remember that now, although he never mentioned their surnames. Jack Wylie was in it too.'
'How did they get together?'
'Through their jobs. The president himself invited Dad to join them, but all the others were in the Secret Service.'
50
Looking across the room at his new boss, Sammy Pye was surprised by the gleam of satisfaction that was written on his face. Dan Pringle had gone, back to Edinburgh, and they had been in the middle of a team meeting with the available divisional CID staff when the phone had rung. McGuire had frowned at the interruption at first, but had taken the cal when he had heard who was on the line.
'Yes, Greg,' he murmured, pleasantly. 'What can I do for you?'
'Company business, Mario,' his colleague replied, in a tone that was just a shade too affable. 'You could say that this is an interview, rather than a conversation.'
'Oh aye. Do I need a lawyer then?' He grinned at the reactions of some of his seven-strong squad, sat around the conference room table.
'Greg,' he continued, 'I'm just coming to the end of a meeting here. Hold on for a minute while I wrap it up.' He wrapped a massive hand around the mouthpiece and looked at Pye. 'Sammy, take the lads across the road to the pub, and buy them the last beer they're going to get out of me til next Christmas. I'l square you up when I join you.' He waited while they filed out of the room then put the phone back to his ear. 'Okay,' he resumed briskly, 'what's this interview about, then?'
'Joking, Mario; I was joking,' said Detective Superintendent Jay.
'Actual y, I was sort of hoping you could help me.'
'Indeed. Tell me, that crunching sound I hear in the background; could that be a portion of humble pie being eaten?'
'With salt and pepper.'
'Good. So what's your problem?'
'It's that company I told you about; Essary and Frances, the wine importers who rented space in your warehouse, the lot your uncle was trying to turf out. My people can't find hide nor hair of them.'
'How hard have they tried?'
'As hard as they can. The company has no listing in the telephone directory or in Yellow Pages; nor are there any private subscribers named Magnus Essary or Ella Frances. We checked with the solicitors who registered the company; they're a smal firm out in Corstorphine.
'They know virtual y nothing about them; they took al the instructions at a single meeting which was attended only by El a Frances, handled the set-up for them, sold them one of the shell companies they keep for the purpose and registered the name change with Companies House, in Castle Terrace. They sent them a fee note and it was paid in cash. They haven't heard from them since then; no one could even recal an occasion, since that first meeting, when either one has called at the office.'
'Where did they send the invoice?'
'To the address they gave, 46 Leightonstone Grove, Hunter's Tryst. A couple of days later, a woman handed in an envelope to their reception desk with the exact amount in cash. The office was just closing, so she didn't wait for a receipt; it was posted out to them, same day.'
'You've been to the house?'
'Of course. No answer; the place was locked up.'
'Who's the registered owner of the property?'
'A Mr Lyall Butler; we've checked with the City Chambers. He's retired and shown as being normal y resident in Portugal, and getting a fifty per cent discount on his council tax.'
'Have you contacted him?'
'He's not on the phone there. It would mean asking the local police to interview him… if he speaks Portuguese, or they speak English.
Chances are they'd need to find an interpreter. If I did that, it would take a long time to get a result. No, what I was hoping, was that you might ask around for me within your family to see if anyone has actual y met these people, and knows where or how they can be contacted, other than at that address.'
'Didn't Stan tell you that?'
There was a silence, then a sigh. 'We didn't actual y ask him,' Jay admitted. 'I just tried to cal him back myself, but he's gone out. His secretary said that he'd gone for a meeting with a client and that he didn't take his mobile.
'I don't really want to send officers to his house in the evening, so I wondered…'
'It's al right for me to get involved when it suits you, eh, Greg,' said McGuire. 'Okay, I'l have a word with Stan. And I'l ask my mother about them. Beppe might have discussed the tenancy with her, you never know.'
'Thanks, s…' Jay stopped himself just in time.
51
Charlie Johnston was none too pleased to have been summoned from the betting shop in the middle of his day off, but the big career constable knew better than to show it to the acting chief superintendent. He stood to attention in front of her desk, in his hastily donned tunic, al too aware, suddenly, that it was covered in fine cat hairs.
'You wanted to see me, ma'am?' he began, his speech as stiff and formal as the rest of him.
'Yes. Relax and sit down, please. I want to talk to you about something that happened a week or so back, when you were on nights, minding the Oxgangs office. You were cal ed out to a sudden death, I understand; in a doctor's surgery.'
Johnston nodded, vigorously. 'Aye, that's right, ma'am. DrAmritraj.'
Then he paused, as if it had dawned on him that for all young Haddock had said, he might be on the carpet after all. 'Ah didna like leaving the office, like,' he assured Rose, 'but a'body else was busy, and the paramedics were gettin' bolshie.'
She read his thoughts. 'It's al right; I'm not questioning your judgement, Charlie, don't worry. No, I just want you to tell me what happened when you got there.'
The constable leaned back in his chair and scratched his head. 'Well, ma'am, there wisna much to it really. There was this bloke, and he was deid.' He chuckled, grimly. 'No doubt about that right enough. He was as deid as he's ever goin' taste be.'
'Tell me about the doctor.'
'There's no' much taste tell about him either. He was an Asian bloke… nothing unusual about that these days… and he was in a hurry taste get home.'
'Did you question him?'
Johnston looked offended. 'Oh aye, ma'am. It's al in my report.'
'Fine, but tell me. How did he explain the man being there in the middle of the night?'
'He said the bloke had cal ed him, complaining about chest pains. He said the guy was feart of hospitals, so rather than upset him, he took him taste his surgery to give him a check-up, put him on a machine, like, and he had hardly got there when the fella took a big coronary and popped off. He said he was ten minutes trying to bring him round, but it was nae use.
'So he just called the ambulance taste take him away.'
Rose looked him in the eye. 'Not the police? Only the ambulance?
You're sure about that.'
