Charles’ lips were drawn back, his mouth set as if in a snarl.
‘Tell us,’ asked Martin, ‘how was the office constructed? Did it have solid walls? It was a shell when we got there.’
The man shook his head. ‘The door was solid wood, but the upper half of the walls were glazed, to let in light during the day.’
‘Clear glass or opaque?’
‘You couldn’t see through it, not to recognise someone. ’
‘But you could make out a figure inside?’
Charles nodded. ‘Yes, and obviously in the evening the office light would be on.’
‘But the showroom lights would be switched off?’
‘That’s right.’ The man’s face was impassive, set in a cold, hard stare.
‘You’re not surprised, Jackie, are you,’ said Skinner. ‘For twenty years you’ve been telling us you’re a respectable business figure, and most of Edinburgh has believed you. Yet when we tell you that someone has tried to murder you but killed your wife by mistake, you accept it as fact, without the slightest twitch of an eyebrow.’
Charles glared at him, playing unconsciously with his wedding ring, but said nothing.
‘You might think that we wouldn’t care,’ he went on. ‘That we’d have a “Live by the sword, let them die by it” sort of attitude. Well, we don’t. Never have. This is our city and we’ll have no fucking swordsmen running around in it.
‘We might think that you’re an evil, pernicious, murderous little shite, and that your late wife was probably your partner in crime as well as life, yet still we’re going to investigate her death as vigorously as if it was the Lady Provost who had died in that fire, and you were sitting opposite us wearing your gold chain of office.
‘So with that in mind, we have a number of questions to put to you. The rest of this conversation is formal, and will be taped.’ He produced a small recorder from his pocket, switched it on and laid it on the table.
‘First of all,’ said Martin, ‘tell us something about the car business. What were the showroom hours?’
With a visible effort, Charles seemed to master his anger. ‘Variable describes it best,’ he said. ‘But midweek, we’re always closed by seven, at this time of year at least. The mechanics work nine to five though, with occasional overtime on Saturday mornings.’
‘How many salesmen do you have?’
‘Two fulltime. Mike Whitehead and Geoff Bailey. They’ve both been with us for a while; Mike seven years, Geoff five. They’re good guys.’
‘You get on well with them both?’
‘Of course I do, or they wouldn’t be there. They specialise in selling quality cars. Any clown can sell a used Fiesta to someone who can only afford a used Fiesta, but discerning people, people with cash, need to be given confidence in their buy, and to be persuaded that they’re investing in a good set of wheels.’
‘You don’t owe either of them commission money, or anything like that?’
Charles shook his head vigorously. ‘No, they’re paid as soon as the customers’ cheques clear and the HP money comes in. No, you can forget Mike and Geoff; they are trusted friends.’
‘What about your book-keeper?’
‘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.’