20 - A Rush of Blood

by Quintin Jardine

  ‘Oh shit!’ McGurk whispered.

  ‘I’m sorry, Jack,’ said the young man. ‘It was an accident; and Mr John can be trusted. No harm will come of it.’

  ‘That’s not what I meant, Sauce. If Gerulaitis is bent, will Regine be at risk when he finds that out? That’s what I’m wondering.’

  ‘I doubt it; he wouldn’t have been expecting them to come to him. But it could explain why Tomas left his interest in the massage parlours to his wife, though . . . indirectly, it goes to Valdas. A wee sweetener, maybe; a loyalty bonus.’

  ‘You think you’ve had a great morning, Sauce, don’t you?’ Stallings chuckled.

  ‘I wouldn’t say that, boss.’

  ‘Just as well, for neither would I. I send you out to find something that will let us consign this investigation to the bin, once and for all, and you come back with an even clearer picture of a man who’s rich, successful and completely in control, the unlikeliest of suicides.’

  ‘I don’t think he was a suicide,’ Haddock told her, bluntly. ‘I don’t think he killed himself.’

  ‘Aw, Jesus,’ McGurk guffawed. ‘Sauce, get a grip. I know you’re a detective, that’s your job, but sometimes you have to admit to yourself that there’s fuck all to detect! I’ve seen what’s left of Tomas Zaliukas. So has Neil McIlhenney, so has Mario McGuire and so has Professor Joe Hutchinson, the most eminent forensic pathologist in Scotland. Every one of us believes that Zale blew his own fucking head off. Maybe you and I should go along to the mortuary right now, so that you can take a good look for yourself.’

  ‘Somebody doesn’t.’ The murmur was so quiet that it failed to carry across the room.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I said that someone doesn’t believe it. Why else would our report have been kicked back last night?’

  ‘The chief can be a stickler,’ McGurk countered, ‘but he hasn’t seen the body either.’

  ‘Then maybe we should take him with us next time we go to the morgue. How about you give him a call and ask him if he wants to come? D’you fancy that, Sarge?’

  ‘I’d do it in a second if I thought it would help get your head out the clouds.’

  ‘Boys, boys, boys, boys, boys!’ Becky Stallings called out, as the two glared at each other. ‘Sauce,’ she said, ‘you’re entitled to your opinion, but you’re outvoted . . . or you would be if this was a democracy. It’s not, and that’s why we’re still chasing this fucking rabbit. Jack, I agree with you. From everything I’ve heard, any fiscal would sign this off as self-inflicted. But all we can do right now is follow current orders, continue to investigate, and complete as full a background report on the victim as we can pull together. When we re-submit it, as we will when I decide we should, it’ll offer no conclusions. It’ll say that all lines of inquiry have been exhausted, and let Him Upstairs make of that what he will. Agreed?’ She stopped abruptly. ‘What the hell am I saying? Yes it’s agreed, because it’s what I say will happen.’ She looked at McGurk. ‘Jack, have you finished going through those accounts?’

  ‘Yes, and they’re like Sauce said: the companies, Leisure and Developments, are both rock solid. The auditors’ reports are glowing.’

  ‘And there’s no link to the massage parlour business?’

  ‘None that I can see.’

  ‘I know where the purchase money came from,’ Haddock offered. ‘Zaliukas took a dividend; all above board. I had a call from Mr John while I was on my way back here confirming the amount: a quarter of a million.’

  ‘Thanks for that,’ said the DS. ‘There is something interesting about that side of our man’s life, though. I’ve been checking with the city council’s licensing people. It seems that the purchase from the Manson estate was just the start; since then Lituania SAFI’s been expanding its holdings, buying up similar premises, then leasing them to individuals who take over the licenses. There are fifteen of these places in the city. Guess how many Zaliukas’s company owns now, Becky?’

  ‘Tell me.’

  ‘Twelve, all leased to people with Lithuanian names. They read like a fucking football team. The company seems to have been working towards a monopoly. I’ve spoken to the owners of the other three, the ones it doesn’t have. They’ve all had approaches within the last six months from the same bloke.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Ken Green.’

  ‘These approaches; were they proper?’

  ‘From what I’ve been told, yes. All he asked was if they’d be interested in selling. Incidentally, all three owners were at pains to tell me that they do not provide additional services, so to speak.’

  ‘Did you believe that?’

  ‘Sure. It would be too easy for us to check, so why should they lie? The media assume that all private massage parlours are brothels, but it’s not true. There are people who only want their backs rubbed.’

  ‘Mmm,’ Stallings mused. ‘Maybe the theory about Zaliukas wanting to change the places he bought wasn’t true after all.’

  ‘No maybe about it, surely? If he’d ever intended to legitimise the businesses, he’d have bought them through Lietuvos Leisure, would he not? Anyway, back to these three; one of them was fairly recent, so there’s been no follow-up, but in the other two cases, each owner had a visit a few weeks after from another man. No threats were made; it was all friendly. Chunky offers were made for the businesses, and they were told they’d stay on the table till they were ready to accept.’

  ‘Who made these offers? Who was the friendly visitor? Do we know? Was it Zaliukas?’

  ‘No. It was Valdas.’

  ‘Was it, by God,’ the inspector hissed.

  ‘He’d only have been doing that with Zaliukas’s approval,’ Haddock declared.

  ‘Maybe yes, maybe no,’ said McGurk. ‘But we do know for sure that he lied to us about his involvement. We also know, Sauce, that your pal Ken Green only volunteered as much as you knew already. They both need follow-up visits, but we’ll do it together this time.’

  ‘Do that,’ Stallings agreed, ‘but first, check out some of these places. It seems that we’ve got an ethnic group operating under a very clever and well put together front. The head’s been cut off; let’s see if we can find out how the body’s reacted.’

  Twenty-five

  ‘Alex,’ Veronica Drake exclaimed, ‘I have other clients, of whom two are in extreme personal difficulty at the moment and requiring my attention. They’re where my priorities lie. I’m sorry for Regine Zaliukas and her kids, but I’ve never met the woman. If she chooses to go away for a few days, she’s not going to tell me about it, and if she goes to a place with a lousy mobile signal, or leaves her phone switched off, that’s her problem, not mine.’

  ‘Fine,’ Alex shot back, ‘that’s your perspective. Mine is that I’ve got two companies whose owner and chief executive has just died without leaving any guidance as to who should succeed him. In total, the businesses have a full-time payroll of eighty-four employees, let alone the casual bar staff, and I don’t have a mandate to run them myself.’

  ‘What about the other directors?’

  ‘There is only one other director, Ronnie, and that’s Regine Zaliukas. You might not feel it’s urgent that she knows about her husband’s death, but I bloody well do.’

  Drake shrugged her padded shoulders. ‘OK, if you’re telling me that it’s a corporate matter, over to you. You find the woman.’ She took a slim folder from her desk and handed it over. ‘Those are her papers, with all her details, including her contact number. If you get stuck I’m sure your father could make a couple of calls for you. I wish I had that luxury.’

  Resisting the urge to wrap the documents around her partner’s ears, Alex took them from her and stalked back to her own tiny office. ‘Bitch!’ she hissed as she slid behind her desk. She opened the file and flicked through the few documents that it held; photocopies of Regine’s birth and marriage certificates and of her French passport, a letter from a French bank in a place called Nérac, confirming the
details of a euro account in her name.

  The note of her mobile number was the last in the file. It made Alex wonder how hard her partner had tried to contact the woman, but she put the question to one side to be raised later, if necessary.

  She picked up the paper and keyed in the eleven digits, then waited. The tone, when it sounded, was European, a long, single beep, confirming her assumption that Regine Zaliukas was not in the United Kingdom, and indicating, encouragingly, that her mobile was switched on. It rang several times, then just as she expected to be picked up by voicemail . . . ‘Hello?’ English, but in a French accent.

  How did she know I was calling from Britain, Alex wondered, since CAJ’s number is always hidden?

  ‘Mrs Zaliukas?’

  ‘Yes, this is Regine.’ She sounded fluent; her accent was not noticeably Scottish.

  ‘My name is Alex Skinner. I’m a partner in Curle Anthony and Jarvis, and I’ve just taken over responsibility for the Lietuvos companies from Mr Conn, who’s retired.’

  ‘My husband told me this was happening,’ the woman replied, coolly. ‘You’re the chief constable’s daughter, aren’t you? Tomas laughed when he told me that. He said if anything would make Edinburgh people regard him as respectable, that would. I told him that maybe you wouldn’t want to work for him.’

  ‘Any client acceptable to Mr Conn will be acceptable to me,’ Alex told her. ‘Mrs Zaliukas, where are you? We’ve been trying to reach you since yesterday, but only getting your voicemail.’

  For the first time, she detected a degree of anxiety, in that Regine Zaliukas hesitated. ‘At this moment,’ she began, eventually, ‘I am sitting in my car, in the car park of E. LeClerc, a French supermarket. The children and I have been away for a few days.’

  ‘Where are you staying?’

  ‘We are in my parents’ house; one hundred and five Rue St Cauzimis, Mezin, in Lot et Garonne.’

  ‘Are your kids with you right now?’

  ‘No.’ The woman paused. ‘They’re being looked after. Listen, why are you asking me this?’

  Alex took the plunge. ‘Mrs Zaliukas, I’m afraid I have some dreadful news. Your husband was found dead yesterday morning, in Edinburgh.’

  A great gasp of breath sounded clearly down the line, followed by a long period of silence. ‘Dead?’ she said at last, in a quavering voice. ‘Tomas? Dead? How?’

  ‘The police believe that he took his own life. He was shot.’

  ‘He . . . They . . . They think that, the police?’

  ‘Not just them. They’ve already done a post-mortem and that’s what the pathologist says too. Mrs Zaliukas, Regine, I’m sorry to have to break it like this, but our view was that it was better for you to hear from us, your lawyers, than to have men in uniform turning up at your door, possibly when your children were there.’

  ‘Yes.’ The voice was whisper quiet, but more controlled. ‘I appreciate that, thank you.’

  ‘The police in Edinburgh would like to interview you, about your husband’s state of mind. I’ve told them that you might prefer to communicate with them through us.’

  ‘Yes, I would prefer that. But I can tell you now, that when last I spoke to Tomas, let me see, it would be on Sunday, he was fine.’

  ‘You were estranged, though?’

  ‘Whoever told you that?’ she exclaimed. ‘No, I decided to bring the children over here for a few days, that was all. When both of them are higher up the school it will not be so easy. I was almost ready to go back.’ Pause. ‘Not now, though. I believe I will stay here for a little longer. This is a huge shock; my family is in France. I need its support.’

  ‘I understand that but, Mrs Zaliukas, there is the question of your husband’s companies. They now belong entirely to you and your children. Someone has to run them. If you don’t want to do it, you need to appoint a chief executive. Since Mr Gerulaitis is already there . . .’

  ‘No, no. Not Valdas, not him; not for one second. You, Miss Skinner, could you do it?’

  ‘I couldn’t be a director,’ Alex told her. ‘I’m not allowed to. But I could administer the business on a temporary basis, on your behalf, with your authority.’

  ‘Then I’ll give you that authority right now.’

  ‘It has to be written.’

  ‘There will be a letter in the post this afternoon, or better, faxed to your office. I can do that, can’t I?’

  ‘Yes, you’re already a director of both companies. But are you sure? You’ve never met me.’

  ‘If you are a partner in that firm, you must be up to the job. And I share Tomas’s view. Who better to represent my interests than the chief constable’s daughter?’

  Twenty-six

  ‘How quickly can you get an interpreter?’ Wilding and Montell heard Cowan ask as they came back into the CID office. ‘OK,’ she said, firmly, a few seconds later, ‘do it. The force will pick up the tab.’

  The DS frowned. ‘Was that our money you were spending, Alice?’ ‘Don’t worry,’ she assured him. ‘The DI wouldn’t have any problems with it if he was here. While you two gourmets were at the sandwich shop, I had a call from the Royal. Our girl’s started to respond. Her name’s Anna, and she’s hungry; that’s all they’ve got from her so far, but one of the nurses there is Polish, and she says that she’s speaking Russian. When they ask her questions in English, all they get are blank looks, and they say she’s still way too wandered to be putting it on.’

  ‘Who were you speaking to just now? The Polish nurse?’

  ‘No, one of the administrators. They have non-English speakers admitted quite often, so it’s something they have to deal with. They have a list of people they can call on at short notice. They guy I spoke to says he can get a Russian translator from the university; she should be there by the time we are.’

  ‘Shouldn’t we go to that massage parlour place first?’ Montell suggested.

  ‘Why would we do that? We were going there to question the manager about the girl. Now we can question her about him . . . if that’s where she came from.’

  ‘True,’ Wilding agreed. ‘How about I go along for a look at this massage parlour place?’

  Cowan glared at him. ‘If it turns out that our girl has been held there, I want to be the one that kicks the door in, waving a search warrant. If you pull rank on this, Ray, I will be in a very serious huff.’

  He chuckled. ‘Anything but that! OK, you two head off to the Royal. See if you get any sense out of this lass; that’s the first priority, right enough.’

  ‘Can we take ten to eat our sandwiches?’ Montell asked. He delved into a large paper bag that he was carrying and handed a film-wrapped baguette to Cowan. ‘Corned beef and pickle,’ he told her. ‘That OK? They didn’t have any pastrami left.’

  ‘That’ll do, I suppose.’ She grinned at him. ‘First thing you’ve got right today.’

  Twenty-seven

  ‘You know, son,’ Ken Green drawled, frowning at Haddock across his desk, ‘I was being nice to you yesterday when I agreed to see you, but I have a busy practice, and limited free time, so this is pushing it.’

  ‘Your cooperation is appreciated, sir,’ said Jack McGurk. ‘That said, there are times in this job when I feel like a dentist.’

  ‘Oh aye? Why’s that?’

  ‘It’s because getting information from so-called cooperative people can be like drawing teeth. You’d have been much nicer to my colleague yesterday if you’d told him everything about your client’s involvement in the massage parlour business.’

  ‘The boy asked me questions . . .’

  Haddock leaned forward. ‘Excuse me, sir,’ he began, ‘but am I right in thinking that it’s best for someone in your profession to have decent relations with the police?’

  ‘Yes, you probably are.’

  A look came into the DC’s eyes, a look that neither of the two men in the room had ever seen before. ‘In that case, sir,’ he went on, his tone low and even, ‘you should be aware of this. The next time
you call me “son”, or “the boy”, you’ll be making an enemy for life. If that doesn’t seem like much of a threat to you, think on this; all things being equal, in twenty years’ time you’ll still be in the lawyering game, doing pretty much what you do now. And I’ll still be a police officer, still lifting your clients. But chances are I’ll be a bit further up the ladder. Maybe I’ll be a DS, like my colleague here, or maybe we’ll both be a notch or two higher. But even if I’m not, even if I’m still a humble detective constable, I will make it my business to shit on you at every opportunity. Can we be clear about that?’

  Green glared at him, but Haddock held his gaze, unblinking, until the solicitor looked away. ‘That can cut both ways,’ he growled. ‘Wait till the day I get you in the witness box.’

  ‘I’m sure there will be a few of those. I repeat. Are we clear?’

  ‘We’re clear.’ The reply was almost a snarl.

  ‘Good.’ The DC glanced at his sergeant. ‘Sorry, Jack, I had to get that off my chest.’

  ‘You beat me to it by about half a second, Sauce. Now, Mr Green, to business and to what you failed to volunteer to us yesterday. Since you helped Mr Zaliukas set up his offshore company, and buy the former Manson premises, he’s continued to make acquisitions in that sector. Four more, in fact. Were you involved in those transactions?’

  The lawyer sighed. ‘I was. My client instructed me to make formal offers to the owners of the premises in each case.’

  ‘We know where Tommy got the money for the first buys, but where did the cash for these come from?’

  ‘From the operating profits of the first eight businesses.’

  ‘With bank support?’

  ‘No; they were all straight cash buys.’

  ‘The sales went ahead, so we know that deals were done, but were all your offers accepted immediately?’

  ‘One was accepted on the spot, one a little later. There was negotiation on the other two, but terms were agreed.’