‘Look, I’m not about to stand for this.’
‘You’re sitting, Davie. We gave you a seat, remember.’
He started to get up. Mac pushed his shoulders, forced him back down. Now Davie sat quiet. I expected him to finger his collar, take out a handkerchief and dab at his brow but he was ice. Fair shook me.
‘Okay, Davie, let’s take it from the beginning… When did you last see my brother?’
Now he flared up: ‘You surely don’t think I have anything to do with that.’
Mac crossed the floor again. ‘Answer the fucking question.’
Davie didn’t know who to address. He started to speak to Mac: ‘I don’t know anything about that…’
Mac put a mitt on Davie’s jaw, spun his face towards me, said, ‘Tell him, you prick.’ He bared his bottom row of teeth, looked tempted to panel Davie into his soft slip-on shoes.
‘I–I, come on, you can’t seriously…’
‘Davie, this is a simple enough situation we have here. Now, you’re an intelligent man, are you not?’
Silence.
Mac kicked the back of his chair. ‘Answer him.’
Rapid-style: ‘Yes. Yes.’
‘Good. That’s very good, Davie. Now, as an intelligent man you must know I’m not playing with you here… You know that, don’t you?’
He turned around swiftly to watch Mac. ‘Yes. Yes, of course.’
‘Excellent. Then, purely in the interests of clarity, let me confirm: you will answer every fucking question I ask of you, fully, truthfully and without hesitation, Davie, or Mac there is going to punch you a new hole. Got it?’
Head in spasm: ‘Yes. I understand. Yes. Yes.’
I took a drag on my tab, said, ‘When did you last see my brother?’
‘Erm… it was, er, last, er, yesterday afternoon.’
‘Where?’
‘Here… it was here in the office. Erm, in his office. Next door.’
‘What time exactly?’
‘It was lunchtime.’
‘What fucking time exactly?’
‘One… it was one-ish… one-thirty.’
‘Who else was there?’
‘No one. We were going over the returns for the accountant. They have to be in by the new year and…’
‘And what?’
‘Nothing… That’s it. Look, it was just another day at the factory. I never thought-’
I leaned into his face, blew out smoke. ‘You never thought he was going to get plugged out on the Meadows?’
Davie turned away, wiped at his soft moustache. ‘No, I never… You don’t think he was murdered? The police, I mean, they don’t think he was…’
I walked around the chair where he sat. I flicked ash from my tab as I went. ‘Maybe the police don’t have all the facts, Davie.’
‘What… what do you mean?’
I nodded to Mac. He tipped back Davie’s chair — his slip-ons went in the air. ‘I mean, do the police know how things are here? About the lay-offs? Sounds like cost-cutting — you must be feeling it.’
Mac let Davie’s chair go. He fell backwards onto the floor. His glasses came off, he flapped about like a recently landed cod. When he found his specs he jumped up and ran to his desk, picked up the phone.
Mac was on him: ‘You fucking cheeky wee cunt.’ He grabbed the line and yanked it out of the wall. The thin cable snaked up and whipped a polystyrene ceiling tile, showered a little dust. Davie put his hands to his head like the sky was coming down.
I said, ‘You never answered the question, Davie.’
‘What question?’
I moved over to face him, sat on the edge of his desk and brushed the white dust from his shoulder. ‘Do the police know about your financial troubles?’
Davie shifted his gaze, left to right, ‘I don’t have any financial troubles.’
‘You don’t?’ I turned to Mac. ‘How about that? I’m all right Jack, he says. Funny your business partner was finding things so tough, was it not?’
Davie straightened his tie. ‘I don’t know anything about that.’
‘You don’t?’
‘No. I don’t.’
I felt my pulse pounding. There was an angle being worked here. What was this shithead saying, that my brother was in some kind of trouble of his own making? Michael was the canniest man I’d ever known: he wouldn’t get into any difficulties if his own firm was still paying its way.
‘You’re telling me this place is sound?’
‘Of course it is… There’s no trouble here at all.’
I flicked his tie. ‘Very well, Davie, I’m impressed. You seem to be the only businessman in Edinburgh riding out the economic storm, with no ill effects.’
He tipped his head, smirked. ‘Well, I don’t know about that.’
‘No, Davie… and neither do I. You see, I might not be a businessman myself, but I do know when someone is trying to sell me a crock of shit.’
I nodded Mac to the door. He opened it up and waited for me to step through. I didn’t give fat Davie the benefit of a backward glance.
Mac said, ‘We’ll be seeing you.’
I felt the menace of his words.
Chapter 6
On the way out of the factory, the young girl on reception was taking dog’s abuse from what sounded like an irate former employee. He was what the Scots call ropeable, had the sweaty brow, bulging eyes, the lot. Every now and again he’d fling back his head, put on a glower then regain his rant, slapping the desk for emphasis.
‘I’m owed money, wages, not the peanuts they pay you cunts!’ He leaned over her, his face lit red as he showered the hate. ‘What you gonna do about it? I want fucking paying…’
He caught sight of us as we appeared in the foyer, started to wave his hands about. He had a wage slip that he slammed on the desk. ‘This place went to shit the moment they started hiring your lot. No understanding of the workplace — just cheap fucking trash!’
I shot a sideways glance at Mac: he had a swagger on, the kind bouncers wear before throwing folk down the stairs. I’d been on the end of a few like it. I thought about hauling him up, putting in a word to the wise, but this bloke was arcing up big time. I thought there might be an interesting response coming if I let it go.
The girl got out of her chair, cowered behind the phone and dialled for assistance. Mac strolled over, put a hand on the bloke’s shoulder. ‘What’s your problem?’
‘Eh?’ The guy’s face turned to a grimace; his lower lip drooped to reveal two prominent teeth poking up like a bust wicket.
Mac moved his hand from the bloke’s shoulder to his chest, edged forward. Mr Angry took a few steps back, said, ‘It’s got nowt to do with you, pal.’
‘Maybe I’m making it something to do with me.’
I had to laugh, couldn’t get enough of Mac in badass mode. I checked the girl was okay: ‘You all right there?’
She nodded. Seemed a bit shaken.
‘Have you called for some back-up?’
She didn’t catch my meaning, words falling behind the language barrier.
