‘And in a burned-out house will we find any traces of him?’
‘No chance.’
‘In which case we’ll never even get him to court. . if it was him. As I said, I’d go for that. . but for one thing, or person, or ex-person: Ken Green. If Ken Green’s death was a genuine accident, you could probably persuade me to go with the Jonas theory and close the book on that side of the business. But if it wasn’t, then what possible reason could Jonas have had to kill him? Mario, until you can prove to me that Green was going too fast on a dangerous road and skidded off, through that fence and into that quarry, I’m going to assume that he had help. And I’m going to ask, why?’ He smiled. ‘Specifically, right now, I’m going to ask you why.’
McGuire sat in the edge of the chief’s desk. He closed his eyes, and sank into thought. Half a minute passed, more; then he opened them again wide. ‘What Desperate Dan said to the managers: he told them that while he’s the new guy they report to, he isn’t the ultimate boss. There’s somebody else.’
‘Good, you agree with me. So my alternative to the Jonas option is this. That person, whoever he might be, is very shy. But three people must have known who he was: Tomas Zaliukas, Valdas Gerulaitis, and Ken Green. What did Ken Green do for Tomas?’ Skinner asked, but without waiting for a reply, he continued. ‘He helped him set up Lituania SAFI, the Uruguayan offshore company. And who was involved in that? Tomas and Valdas we know of, but was there a third person?’ He frowned as his mind worked recalling details from briefings he had been given. ‘Wait a minute,’ he murmured. ‘Green told Sauce that Tomas used Regine as a shareholder in the offshore business, because there had to be two. Right?’
‘Yes,’ McGuire agreed.
‘Then he lied to the lad,’ Skinner exclaimed. ‘Listen, Tomas’s original will left his share in the company to his wife. He couldn’t have done that if she’d been a shareholder already. So yes! There is somebody else; there has to be, he’s listed on the confidential shareholder register out in Uruguay, and Ken Green was so keen to keep the fact from us that he told porkies to a police officer.’ He chuckled ‘No, before you suggest it, there’s no point in you going out there because the names are legally protected from intrusion even by the Uruguayan authorities, let alone us. David Mackenzie checked that out for me yesterday. So what does Green’s death mean?’ he challenged. ‘I reckon it says that there’s nobody left alive to tell us who the mystery man is.’
‘So any way you look at it,’ said McGuire, quietly, ‘it’s a dead end.’
‘Yes, but that’s only one road. Let’s see what the autopsy on Green shows up, and what our guys can find in his car, but we still have plenty to work on. Look for Jonas; if he turns up back in Vilnius, we need to know. Find Desperate Dan; we’ve got a solid description of him. And not least find those women and, through them, find the missing girls.’
‘If they’re still alive.’
‘Granted. We can only hope that they are. Mind you, I’ve got no idea where you start, I admit.’
‘With the mini-bus they took them away in,’ said the head of CID. ‘Ramanauskas told us it was silver, although he had no idea of the make or model. We’re looking at street camera footage for Wednesday morning; if we find any possible vehicles we’ll show them to him.’
‘Good, but something else; we’ve been thinking locally about this from the off. I want you to check out whether Lituania SAFI has other properties anywhere else in Scotland. You crack on with that, and as you do, I’ve got business of my own to attend to. The massage parlours are key to the whole business, we’re agreed, yes?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, that being the case, I’m going to talk to the man who sold them to Tomas Zaliukas in the first place; my old sparring partner, Lennie Plenderleith, the beneficiary of Tony Manson’s estate.’ He grinned. ‘Now bugger off, or I’ll be late picking up my daughter.’
Fifty-eight
‘I’ve never been here before,’ said Cheeky, leaning against the bar and surveying the function room. ‘It’s nice. What’s it called again?’
‘The Grosvenor,’ Sauce reminded her. ‘It’s not bad at all; it’s the nearest place to our office that’s big enough, so we usually come here for our dos.’
‘It’s handy for your place too; we could almost walk home from here. I bet you they give you a good deal, considering who you are.’
‘I don’t know about that. There’s a social committee that organises these things, but I’m not on it.’
‘How many people are coming?’ she asked. ‘Will there be seats enough for everybody when they serve the food?’
‘About sixty, I think.’ He counted the tables surrounding the dance floor. ‘Yeah, it’ll be fine.’ He picked up his drink, and took her arm. ‘Come on and meet my boss,’ he said, leading her towards the far end of the bar.
‘I thought Jack was your boss,’ she retorted, nodding towards McGurk, who sat at one of the tables with Lisa Weekes, his partner.
‘Jack’s my sergeant; that’s different. This is our boss; DI Stallings.’ He stopped beside a dark-haired thirty-something woman in a dark-blue dress, who stood beside a lean, fit-looking man, with sharp appraising eyes. ‘Ma’am,’ he said, ‘this is Cheeky, my girlfriend.’
Stallings turned. Unwittingly, she blinked as she took in Haddock’s partner; the girl would have been beautiful with no presentation at all, but with her perfectly arranged hair and under-stated make-up, she was stunning. She must have a thing for lads with big ears, she thought, or maybe they’re a sign of something else. ‘Drop the “Ma’am”, Sauce,’ she exclaimed. ‘This a bloody dance, not an inspection. The name’s Becky, Cheeky; I’m not going to ask about your name, but I’m sure there’s a story behind it. This is my other half, Ray.’
Wilding’s grin stopped a couple of millimetres short of a leer. ‘Welcome to our inner circle,’ he greeted her. ‘Ever been to a policeman’s ball before?’
‘No,’ said Cheeky, ‘but I know the punchline. When’s the raffle?’
He laughed. ‘Ah, we’re not having one tonight. We couldn’t get anyone to put up the prize.’
‘Are all your team coming, Ray?’ Sauce asked.
‘Sammy Pye and Ruth aren’t; he’s off on his fast-track course. But Griff and Cowan are coming, possibly even hand in hand, if I read things right.’
‘That might be interesting,’ Stallings murmured. She nodded towards the door, towards a big grey-haired man in jeans and a leather jerkin, who had just come into the room, accompanied by a tall, slim mid-twenties woman, with big hair and eyes that seemed to command the attention of every man in the room, with the possible exception of DC Haddock.
‘Who’s that?’ Cheeky asked him.
‘That’s Mr Skinner,’ he replied, ‘our chief constable. And that’s Alex with him, his daughter. She used to go out with Griff; that’s Griff Montell, he works with Ray, and with Alice Cowan. From what Ray’s saying. .’
‘Don’t you believe it,’ Stallings laughed. ‘That lady left Montell behind a while back. Spat out the bones, I’ll bet.’
‘You’re not from Edinburgh, Becky, are you,’ said Cheeky; it was more comment than question.
‘No, I’m a newish arrival. I was in the Met when I met Smiler here,’ she dug Wilding in the ribs, ‘and decided I fancied a spell up north.’
‘And you run this lot?’
‘Only the CID part, love. Superintendent Chambers, Mary Chambers, is the divisional commander.’ She pointed to a table on the other side of the dance floor, close to the spot where the DJ was setting up his lights and his decks. ‘That’s her.’
Cheeky followed her finger, and saw a chunky, early middle-aged woman, with a square but not unattractive face and dark, close-cropped hair. She was dressed in black trousers that might have been part of her uniform, with her black shoes, and in a black, short-sleeved polo neck that certainly was not. She shared the table with a younger woman, her direct opposite, blonde, slim, with a white shirt, sleeves rolled up, a pale blue skirt and tan shoes with heels so high and sharp that they might have been weapons. They were leaning towards each other, over their drinks, smiling as they talked, their hands brushing. ‘Is the other one a policewoman too?’ she asked.