Designer Crime

by Allen Whitehead

  'Hi, sweetheart.' said Laura, kissing him tenderly. 'We've brought you some juice and fruit. And mum sends her love as well.'

  'I must say, lad. You're looking a damn sight brighter than you did last night,' boomed Shepherd.

  'Yes, love. You were pretty much out of it – in a daze most of the time.'

  In fact, although Fraser had genuinely been affected by the sedatives that had been administered, he had feigned much of the tiredness and drooping eyelids, partly to gain sympathy but also to avoid having to answer difficult questions.

  'Aye. We've been wondering who it was attacked you and why?'

  'I've no idea who they were … A couple of young lads … Mugged me. They just came up and said “Hand over your phone.” I said “Get lost” and they pitched into me. There was nothing I could do.'

  'Oh, the rotten devils!' said Laura. 'Do that to you – just to get a phone.'

  'They nicked my wallet as well, babe, but I didn't have much in it, luckily.'

  'But what were you doing there? When you called you said you were working in the office.'

  'I was. I finished the drawing, printed copies off and had just stuck them through the Engineer's letterbox so he'd get them first thing.'

  'Ooh, you can't be too careful. Would you recognize them again, do you think?'

  'That's what the cops asked. It all happened so quick, though, and they were in the shadows. I never really got a good look at them.'

  'The broken bones in your wrist will take a while to mend.'

  'I know. I'm gonna need plenty of looking after … Lots of TLC.'

  'That's my job,' smiled Laura as she kissed him.

  * * *

  'She knew a lot more than she was telling us. She was keeping something back,' Joe said, taking another forkful of curried chicken.

  Joe was a good-looking man. He was a good-looking man. Tall and slim, but also wiry and lithe, with muscles hard from his addiction to frequent training. He had soft fair-hair and blue eyes, but they were a little too close together and his nose slightly too long for him to be regarded as really handsome. Sam said that he looked like a wolf and her pet name for him was “Loopy” after the word “lupo” that she had learned from her Italian mother. She looked up and paused, waiting for him to continue. She knew him well – his habit of taking a roundabout route if he wanted to discuss something that he thought would meet with her disapproval.

  'We need to find out what it is she knows.'

  'And how are you going to do that? Ask Keith where she lives?'

  'No, I don't think so. She might be keeping what she knows from him as well.'

  'So what are we going to do?'

  'Not we – me, Sam. I've decided I'm going to go round to the casino tonight, to try and catch her when she comes out. But I'm going on my own, though – you've got to look after wee Alex.'

  'Wee Josie, you mean!'

  They had recently learned that Sam was carrying their child. Neither of them knew its gender, and the truth was that neither had any strong preference for a son or daughter, but there was ongoing banter between them – Joe referring to “Alex” and Sam to “Josie”.

  'Alex. He's going to help me run my dojo.'

  'Hah! You'll be lucky. Josie's going to help me run mine!'

  Joe laughed, and hugged and kissed his little partner. 'At least we'll have a dojo – that's one thing settled.'

  * * *

  George Street is a wide road in Edinburgh's Georgian new town. Both sides are lined with shops – boutiques or high-end fashion chains, restaurants, coffee houses, and offices with administration rooms on the floors above. For many years it had also been a favoured location for banks and building societies but, with the increasing general use of internet banking reducing the footfall, many of these had closed. Carlo's Casino had opened in a former bank premises in 1992, and it now occupied all of the ground, and part of the first floor behind an imposing portico.

  Car drivers can park in the centre of George Street, between the traffic thoroughfares, and during the day the cities' many traffic wardens patrolled the street constantly, ensuring a steady income stream for the Council, from the expensive parking charges. In the evening, however, when the offices and shops were closed, it was usually possible to find a space. Joe selected one fifty metres away that had a good view of the main entrance. He settled low in his seat and prepared for a long wait.

  It was well past midnight when the last of the casino's customers left to make their way home, and at 02.50am he saw Fraser's visitor leave and head towards the centre of St. Andrew Square. He slipped out of his seat, locked the car, and followed her on the opposite side of the street, keeping well back. Several times he stopped and turned quickly until he was satisfied that there was no-one following. The woman reached the square and turned left into St. David Street. He quickened his pace and caught up with her at the corner.

  'Stop, please. I'd like to have a word with you,' he said hurriedly.

  She turned, with a startled and frightened look in her eyes.

  'It's okay, I mean you no harm. I just want to talk to you about what happened to Fraser.'

  'Oh, it's you!' she gasped, with a look of relief spreading across her face. 'You're one of his friends from the hospital, aren't you?'

  Before he could answer, she had turned away from him and looked carefully all around.

  'Yeah, I am a friend of his, and I'd like to get hold of the guys who did that to him.'

  'No, you wouldn't! They're bad men, very bad an' they'd hurt you too.'

  'Who are they? You do know them, don't you?' He stepped closer 'I can see it in your face. It's not just from them making a few visits to the casino!'

  She nodded and bit her lip. 'But not here – I don't want someone seeing us talking on the street.'

  'Where then?'

  'You come, but follow behind – keep back so you're not with me, okay?'

  Joe nodded and moved back toward the railings that surrounded the basement to the nearby building. The dark haired woman walked quickly away, and headed downhill, turning left and then right before eventually stopping at a dilapidated door in Dublin Street. She put a key in the lock and opened the door into a dingy common stairwell to tenement flats. She waited for Joe to enter and closed the door, but made no move towards the stone stairs or any of the doors to the ground floor flats.

  'The guys,' said Joe, 'who are they, and how do you know them? And who are M and M?'

  'Mannion and McNeil – they are the worst! They have people to do their work – gangs.'

  'Gangsters! And the ones who beat up Fraser – they work for them?'

  'Yah.'

  'But what's Fraser done to gangsters? I thought it was all about the casino – a gambling debt.'

  'It is, but M & M do business with Carlo. He must have ask them to do it for him.'

  'I don't understand why they had to beat him up. It would have made more sense to give him a bit more time to take out a loan or something.'

  'It's 'cos of Keith. He owes Carlo even more than Fraser. Carlo wants to give Keith a scare.'

  'The guys who hammered Fraser. Who are they?'

  'Antonelli and Doig – he's the one they call “Pit Bull”. They are fucking animals – scum bastards who work for M & M.'

  'How do you know this? What do you do at the casino?'

  'Oh, I just work to keep the punters happy. But I know a lot about M & M, 'cause I owe them a lotta money, an' I have to do what I'm told and make sure I pay every week ... or I get trouble too.'

  'Why? How come you owe them?'

  'They help me come to Scotland. I from Romania … and they make arrangement. They say they know businesses here and need workers to come – but they are lying bastards.'

  'You're not really supposed to be here – an illegal immigrant?'

  'They tell us that when we've got jobs, it's okay with Government.' She looked away. 'But it was all lies. There are no proper jobs, an' they keep my passport to stop me go
ing anywhere else. I 'ave been lucky though – Carlo wanted some girls to bring in the punters, and he pick me out 'cos I speak English good.'

  'M & M are trafficking people into Scotland?' Joe looked shocked.

  Madalina shrugged, 'It surprise us all at first, but you gotta learn quick. Girls ... and one or two boys ... they make them work on the streets.'

  'Can't you go to the police?'

  'No way! One girl did and she got burned with acid – from a car battery. They say her sister back home would get even worse if she told the cops anything ... so in the end she said she'd made it up.'

  'It's unbelievable ... much worse than I'd thought. But, look, I really appreciate you telling me that. I won't say anything to anyone that could get you into trouble with them.'

  'No, you better not – an' don't say anything to Keith ... He knows nothing about M and M. I only tell you, because you're a friend of Fraser. I sorry for him getting hurt, but there's nothing you can do. You better keep out of it. It'd only make it worse. They're savage pigs and they don't care who gets hurt. In fact they like hurting people.'

  Joe nodded and she moved to open the door.

  'You better go now ... and don't come back here again – please.'

  * * *

  Chapter 5 April

  Four people sat around the conference room table – Paul, Neil, Liz and Joe, who had asked for the meeting.

  It was the middle of a stormy Thursday morning and rain lashed noisily against the window. He waited until they had settled in their seats and turned to hear what he'd got to say.

  'I had a chat with Madalina, last night – you know, Paul – Keith's girlfriend, who came to visit Fraser in hospital.'

  'I didn't know you knew her,' said Paul, looking surprised.

  'I didn't … don't, but I waited for her to leave Carlo's and then caught up with her as she was walking home. I just knew she was holding back on us.'

  'I'm guessing you found out more?'

  'Yeah. She does know the guys who beat up Fraser, but she won't … or rather can't go to the cops.'

  He told them a little of what he had learned from Madalina, and they listened quietly without interrupting.

  'So you see, she's scared and she believes she could be putting her family back home in danger if she was to point a finger at the gang.'

  'Well, at least now we know what Fraser's got himself involved in – so it really was the gambling debts behind the attack,' said Liz. 'He's still up shit creek, though. Do you think he could go to Laura's dad to ask for a loan?'

  'From what Fraser told me,' said Paul shaking his head, 'there's no way that's going to happen. His father-in-law would never let him hear the last of it. I reckon it could cost him his marriage.'

  'That would be a shame,' she agreed. 'Fraser's a bit of a silly bugger, but he does love Laura, and I think she loves him too.'

  'And that's what I think too,' said Joe decisively, 'and it's really why I wanted this chat with you all. I can scrape together about five or six grand, and I wondered if any of you would make a contribution to paying off his debt with me. It'd have to be loan – I'd want it paid back – but at least he'd have longer to do it.'

  When he stopped, there was a period of silence. It seemed to last forever, even though it was only a couple of minutes. Liz looked at the rain running down the window, biting her lip, and Neil began embellishing a doodle on his notepad.

  At last Paul spoke, breaking the silence. 'We can't let you do that Joe. It's very good of you, but you've got a bairn on the way. You'll need all your savings when the baby's born.'

  'Yeah, I know that, but Sam agrees with me … We can't just abandon Fraser – I wouldn't be able to live with that.'

  'No ... you're right, and I can't let Fraser down either. Liz, Neil – what I'm suggesting is that we raise the cash through the Practice. We've got an overdraft limit of eighty grand. The new computers and taking on the new staff have pushed it up a bit recently, but I'll check with George. I'm pretty sure that we could put another twenty through the books. We could call it an outlay on behalf of a client – like when we sometimes pay out Planning and Building Warrant fees.'

  'Won't that take us right up to the limit?' asked Liz, frowning. 'The bank won't like that.'

  'It might take us close, but if we keep a tight rein on expenses, and make sure that any clients owing us fees pay up promptly, we should be okay.'

  'I'm happy to go along with that, too,' nodded Neil, tapping his pencil on the table. 'Fraser's been stupid, but the one that I'd really like to throttle is Carlo Gratz. He must be a particularly nasty piece of work setting those bastards on him.'

  Liz nodded and Joe smiled broadly. 'You are good guys,' he said. 'I'll go and tell Fraser after work. I reckon he'll be pleased … and very relieved!'

  'Aye, right, but you make damn sure he understands it's only a loan,' Paul said firmly. 'He's going to have to pay it back out of his wages!'

  * * *

  Two weeks later, Fraser was out of hospital but still hadn't returned to work. The bruising on his face was disappearing, but the damage to his hand meant that he was unable to work normally at a computer terminal.

  Paul put the phone down and shouted across the office, 'Joe, I've just had a call from Keith Sanderson. He asks if we could meet up with him before tomorrow's Design Team meeting. It's due to start at half past ten – he suggests an hour before, in the coffee shop across from his office. Is that okay with you?'

  'Funny,' replied Joe, frowning, 'His secretary usually makes good coffee. There must be something he wants to keep secret from her. Half past nine's fine with me though. I won't bother coming into the office first – I'll just meet you both there.'

  Keith was standing outside the coffee shop, smoking a cigarette, when Paul arrived. He was in his early thirties, tall, reasonably slim and handsome, with thick curly black hair. As usual he was dressed in an impeccably cut charcoal suit and sporting a fashionable three days growth of beard. His main contact with the Practice, in recent years, was with Fraser, whom he had known since they had met at university, but Paul had also encountered him on several occasions, particularly during the weeks of work leading up to the submission of the competition entry.

  'Hi, Keith – still got the habit then?'

  The dark haired man smiled, ruefully. 'I keep giving up, but, you know how it is, Paul, you just don't know what to do with your hands.'

  He dropped the cigarette butt on to the pavement and ground it in with his heel.

  'I'll get the coffee. It's a black Americano for you, isn't it?'

  He was placing the order at the counter when Joe joined them. They collected their mugs and carried them up the stairs, with Keith leading the way. There were half a dozen tables in the small room, but only a few were occupied. Keith glanced around quickly and chose a table in the corner.

  Dispensing with the usual pleasantries, he began as soon as they had seated themselves. 'I've got a bit of news about the project, Paul, and I wanted you to hear it before the meeting. We're bringing Cormacks on board.'

  The news took Paul by surprise. Cormack Construction was a well known firm in central Scotland – a family run company that had grown quickly in the previous twenty years. They had started with a few speculative residential projects, but more recently had begun undertaking town centre mixed developments as well.

  'Cormacks ... that's a bit sudden. When did this happen, Keith?'

  'Oh, it's pretty recent ...They've a bit more experience of the bigger projects. And they are bringing their management expertise to the table and putting in some money as well, to get it off the ground straight away.'

  'But I thought you'd already organized funding for the development with the bank?'

  'Yeah ... well, there is a provisional agreement, you're right – but this's a bit more personal.'

  'How?'

  Keith looked embarrassed. 'Look ... You know about Fraser's issue with Carlo's.'

  'Of course. The casino was pai
d off last week.'

  'Yeah, I know ... so now Carlo is turning up the heat on me.'

  'Why? You owe the casino as well?' Paul asked, surprised.

  Keith flushed and leaned forward over the table. 'I'm afraid I do, and it's even more than Fraser.'

  Joe said nothing, but noted the suppressed emotion in his voice.

  'How big a problem is it?' asked Paul quietly.

  'A hundred and thirty.'

  'I don't believe it! You must be joking!' exclaimed Paul, aghast. When a man at a nearby table looked up at his outburst, he paused and lowered his voice. ' A hundred and thirty grand? How the hell did you manage that?'

  'I realize you must think I'm an idiot, Paul. I don't expect you to understand.'

  'I don't ... but that's between you and Carlo. What the hell's it got to do with Cormacks?'

  'Seamus heard about my losses – I presume Gratz told him. He called me up and offered cash to buy into the development.'

  'I'll bet he did. That's just fucking great, Keith! I've never worked on a job with Cormacks, but I know a few who have. I think you should reconsider and go back to the bank, cap in hand.'

  'It's too late, Paul. It's all been agreed. Seamus is coming to the meeting this morning and bringing some of his guys. I'm ... er ... just going to get a croissant to have with my coffee. No breakfast this morning. Can I get either of you anything?'

  He went down the stairs, leaving Joe and Paul sitting at the table looking stunned.

  'I've not worked with Cormacks either, Paul, but I've heard that they are not easy to get on with,' Joe said looking down at the table.

  'No, they're not,' snapped Paul angrily. 'What I've heard from other Practices is that they do a lot of Design and Build, and they like to kick their Design Teams around. They've a culture of bullying and it's led from the top with Seamus Cormack. His son's no better – keeping the family tradition going.'