Tommy spent a few minutes making a fuss of the dog, then turned back towards the house with the spade in his hand.
And twenty thousand pounds of cash in his pocket.
-------------------------
3.30 a.m.
"You're not going to do anything silly are you, Tommy?" his wife demanded after he had changed into some second-hand clothes, checked the gun and loaded it with ammunition.
Tommy stared at her.
"And you're still over the limit. You can't drive yet. You'll be breaking the law..." she said, before catching herself and realising the absurdity of it.
"I'll be back shortly. And just in case anyone calls or asks after me, I'm asleep in bed, and you can vouch for me, do you understand?"
"Yes, dear, but...why do you need a gun? You never ever carry a gun."
"That's when I had Dougie and Rab with me. And they're both dead now because they weren't carrying any guns."
"How long will you be?" she asked. "It's still the middle of the night, and I'm scared to be alone in the dark."
"It depends on him. And how long it takes for him to apologise and for me to stop hitting him. The bastard has stolen all our money and put our lives in danger, and if he hasn't done a runner already, I'm going to bloody kill him."
Handing over his torch to Mrs McNunn, Tommy smiled at her, reminding her to lock up safely before going to bed.
Then he climbed into her car and eased it out of the driveway and onto the streets.
Ten minutes later he drove a few streets past the house of his accountant, parked his car, and walked back.
There were no lights on in the house. It was dark.
Checking the gun was still in his pocket, he eased himself through the gate, and walked up the long driveway.
Walking around the side of the house, he found the plant pot underneath the maple tree, and reached inside and felt for the bag of house keys McNunn hoped was still buried just beneath the surface of the earth - just where it was when McNunn had seen his accountant let himself back into his house one evening after he had lost his keys on a drunken evening out a few years before.
A few minutes later he had let himself into the house through the patio doors at the back of the building.
Reaching into his pocket he took out the gun, noticing then for the first time how much his hand was shaking.
Not from tiredness, or the alcohol wearing off, but from rage.
Anger.
And growing hatred.
The accountant had fucked up big time.
Did he really think he would get away with it? Did he honestly think he could steal McNunn's money and expect to live?
"Shit," Tommy swore to himself. "You might be one of the best accountants in Scotland, but no one, and I mean NO ONE, fucks with me!"
Just then his mobile began to ring.
Tommy cursed, pulling it out of his pocket and fumbling with the phone, trying to silence it.
Incredibly, it was the accountant.
"Tommy, it's me. What's up? I just got your message. I'm calling you straight back."
"Where are you?" Tommy asked, trying to hide the anger in his voice.
"Driving home from the casino."
"Which casino?" Tommy demanded.
"Your casino. Which one do you think? Where are you?"
"Where do you think I am?" he asked.
"I don't know. At home in bed?"
"I'm sitting in your kitchen. Waiting for you. You've got some explaining to do..."
"My kitchen? How did you get in there?" the surprise, and an edge of fear showing in his voice.
"I let myself in. Enough questions. I'll put the kettle on and make you a drink. Just make sure you're here by the time it's boiled."
Tommy hung up.
Perhaps he had been silly to tell the accountant where he was.
But he had wanted to give him a choice.
To come home and be killed quickly.
Or to run away, and then be killed more slowly, - very slowly - when Tommy eventually caught up with him later.
Either way, the man was going to die.
Standing up from the kitchen table, Tommy searched through the kitchen cupboards, looking for some cups and teabags.
For a moment he contemplated whether or not he should make two cups, or just one.
Would there be time for the accountant to drink his tea?
Was there any point in making it?
Deciding not to bother, he had just finished pouring the water into his cup when he heard a car pull up in front of the house.
Flicking the safety catch off his gun, he put in on the table in front of him beside his cup of tea, and covered it with a newspaper.
He sat down at the table and took a sip.
The first hot drink he'd had in hours.
A moment later he heard the front door open and footsteps enter the hallway.
Just then his mobile phone rang. It was his wife.
"Yes?" he spoke quickly into the phone. "What do you want?"
At that moment the accountant stepped into the kitchen.
"Don't do it, Tommy. Don't do it!" he heard the voice of his wife implore him.
Tommy looked at the accountant.
As soon as their eyes met, a fresh wave of anger and rage engulfed him.
"Tommy, DON'T DO IT!" he heard his wife shout once more, then listened to her rant at him for a little longer before he hit the red button and killed the call.
Standing up from the table, Tommy reached under the newspaper and gripped the pistol tightly.
"Hello, Andrew." Tommy said coldly. "I've been waiting for you..."
-------------------------
St Leonards Police Station,
Edinburgh
9.00 a.m. G.M.T.
DCI McKenzie's Office
"Are you okay?" DI Wessex half-asked, half-demanded as she stormed into Campbell's office after the morning briefing had finished, and everyone had started their duties for the day. "You were really off with everyone this morning, and a bit unfair on a couple of the team. Everyone's really trying their best, you know that, don't you? And we've got a result. Petrovsky is going down for sure, so what's the problem?"
"Sit down and close the door please." McKenzie replied, standing looking out of his window towards the Crags.
She did as she was told, and sat down, but didn't shut up.
"I'm worried about you. You look like shit, and you smell of alcohol. What's going on?"
"I appreciate your concern. I do. And I'm okay. But..."
"Did you try to call me last night. Late, about midnight?"
McKenzie turned to face her.
"I think I might have, I'm sorry."
"So why did you hang up when I answered?"
"Calling you was the wrong thing to do. I realised that the moment I heard your voice. So I hung up."
"What was it about? I didn't mind you calling, if that was it."
McKenzie sat down in his seat and looked at her for a second.
Things were getting out of focus. He was angry about the McNunn case, and confused by Wessex, and he needed to take back control somewhere. Somehow. And it didn't help that she was looking so fresh and attractive today.
"That was last night. This is today. Let's move on. I want you to take DC Johnstone with you and go and collect McNunn. I want him in for more questioning."
"Why? What's this got to do with?"
"Urqhart. I know he did it. I want to ask him some more questions."
"But why?" Wessex asked, standing up. "This makes no sense. We have DNA evidence that points to Petrovsky. We've got motive. We've arrested him. And everyone thinks we'll get a prosecution."
"We've DNA evidence that link's Petrovsky's dog to Urqhart. That's all. Who's to say that Petrovsky had anything to do with this? He's probably innocent."
"Come on, don't do this. This isn't about Urqhart or Petrovsky, this about your obsession with bringing McNunn down. What are you goin
g to achieve if we ever did manage to pin this on McNunn? Petrovsky walks free? And of the two, which one is the biggest bastard, the one that would be best for Scotland to put behind bars, the one that poses more of a threat to any half-decent person in this city?"
"They're both as bad as each other. What does it matter which one we put behind bars, as long as we get the right one?"
"You're being weird. And I have a feeling that for some reason you've stopped talking to me. Why? Tell me what you're thinking. What you're really thinking!"
McKenzie looked into her eyes, but said nothing.
"Is this about us?" Wessex asked out of the blue, leaving the question hanging poignantly in the air.
McKenzie closed his eyes, leaned forward and rubbed them with his hands.
Opening his eyes, he stood up from his desk and walked back to the window.
"I'm not asking. I'm telling you. Take Johnstone and go and find McNunn. Bring him in."
Wessex stood for a moment, looking at McKenzie's back.
Then she turned and left.
-------------------------
Edinburgh
Tommy McNunn's House
9.30 a.m.
Tommy had just stepped out of an almost cold shower and was getting dressed when his wife came into their en suite bathroom and informed him that the police were at the door.
"Why?" Tommy asked without looking at his wife and continuing to towel himself down. He was nervous but didn't want to show it. The police turning up at his door and asking questions was nothing new. But the timing of this was worrying. Did they know something already?
"They want you to accompany them to the station."
Tommy looked up. This was a bit more concerning.
"But why?"
"For questioning in St Leonards. Tommy, I don't know. They wouldn't tell me anything more. Shall I call Miss Laurie?"
"Yes, and quickly. Tell her to meet me there. I'm not going to say anything until she arrives."
When his wife left the room, Tommy put the toilet lid down and sat on it. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves.
It took him a minute or two to compose himself and then put the events of the morning behind him, but when he opened his eyes and finished dressing, he was calm and collected.
After taking a moment to check his reflection in the mirror and to spruce up with some aftershave, he finally made his way down to his front room where he found the police and his wife waiting for him.
DI Wessex noticed only a momentary flicker in his demeanour as McNunn saw her for the first time: just a transient question which passed across his eyes but was just as soon gone.
"Good morning, and sorry to have kept you waiting. I was just in the shower. How can I help you?"
"Mr McNunn, I'm sure you may remember me, but just in case you don't..."
"You're McKenzie's sidekick? Yes, I know who you are." McNunn cut her short.
"Good, and this is Detective Constable Johnstone. We'd like you to accompany us down to the station for some questioning, if you would?"
"What for?"
"DCI McKenzie has some questions he would like to ask you."
"About what?" McNunn inquired, trying to blank out the morning's activities and hoping there was no connection.
"Just to help us with our enquiries. Routine procedure."
"And what if I don't want to come?"
"You don't have to. Now. But we'll come back in a more formal capacity, and things could be a little more serious. You've done this a hundred times. You know the score. So, are you able and willing to come with us now? Or do we have to do it the hard way?" Wessex replied.
"Since I've nothing to hide, and I'm a law-abiding member of society, of course I'm happy to help the police with their enquiries. But naturally, I've asked my lawyer to meet us at the station too. She should be there shortly. Let's go..."
McNunn raised his arm in a gesture encouraging DI Wessex to leave the room first. He then followed her, and the other policeman followed up his rear. Which was exactly what McNunn was doing to Wessex.
His eyes didn't leave her bottom once.
As they climbed into the police car in the driveway, Mrs McNunn shouted after them, "Will you be home for lunch, darling?"
Tommy, sitting in the back seat, wound down the window and said yes.
And under his breath he added, "At least, I hope I will be..."
-------------------------
St Leonards Police Station,
Edinburgh
11.00 a.m. G.M.T.
Interview Room 2
"Thank you both for coming," DCI McKenzie greeted the occupants of the Interview Room as he opened the door and walked in with DI Wessex. Both McNunn and his brief, the attractive but ferocious Miss Laurie, were already seated at the table, conversing with each other.
McKenzie quickly and routinely dealt with the formalities, introducing the occupants of the room to the meeting recorder and stating the time. "My client and I would immediately like to know why you've asked us here today? What's it in connection with?" Miss Laurie asked, as soon as McKenzie was finished. "I myself have just been pulled away from an important meeting with one of my government clients, and I must return as soon as possible. So, this is far from a welcome interlude."
"Well, we certainly appreciate your presence, Miss Laurie, but in future please don't feel any obligation to attend because of us. You do so entirely at your client's request. And your diary is your affair. Not ours." DCI McKenzie replied, being just as brief.
"Last time we met there were admittedly a few more niceties. But things have moved on a lot since then. A lot. And now we have two investigations on the go, both of which deeply concern you. Firstly, it turns out that my suspicions concerning the death of Mr Keith Urqhart may just about to be confirmed. Or should I say, Police Constable Urqhart. And for the record, I wanted to hear from yourself, Mr McNunn, exactly what you were doing on the night of his death. Or should I say 'murder'? We also want to know where you were at the time of the deaths of your two associates. I'll be asking one of my officers to take a formal statement from you, when it's convenient."
"With regard to the first question, Mr McNunn already gave a statement on this to one of your officers. And nothing has changed since then." Miss Laurie replied.
"Let me repeat my question, since obviously neither of you heard it, although personally I thought it was clear enough. I would like to hear from yourself, Mr McNunn, where you were on the night of Keith Urqhart's death."
Tommy exchanged a glance with Miss Laurie who frowned at him. McNunn ignored her.
"Like I said in my statement," McNunn replied. "I was at home in bed. With my wife. Having sex. Like most men do with their wives."
"For so long? Hour after hour?" McKenzie asked.
"Viagra. You should try it some time."
"I have no need. I'm sorry to hear that you do." McKenzie replied, making a little dig. One-nil to McKenzie. "Actually, I read your statement and I note that your wife has attested to your presence in bed. But according to your statement you both went to bed around 9.30 p.m. That's rather early, isn't it?"
"That's a personal question, isn't it? If your wife was as attractive as mine, you'd understand why I can't wait to get to bed, and why I'm in no hurry to leave it. I can only guess what it means if you go to bed much later than I do." McNunn replied, smiling.
One all.
As he finished the sentence, he caught sight of Wessex fidgeting. Tact had never been his thing.
"So, what time did you fall asleep?"
"I don't know. This was weeks ago now. How am I meant to remember?"
"What time?" McKenzie pushed.
"Eleven. Probably about eleven." Tommy replied, without blinking.
"Aha. Not after hours of sex then. Just straight to sleep... And did you wake up at all that night? And say, maybe, go for a drive, at all?"
"Like I said, and declared in my statement, we went to
sleep. We slept. Together. In each other's arms. And then we woke up in the morning the next day."
"So, you didn't get up at all that night and go out?"
"No. We went to bed. Our eyes closed. We slept. Our eyes opened. We got up and had breakfast. End of."
"Aha.. yes," DCI McKenzie said, opening up the folder he had placed on the desk as he had entered the room. He thumbed through a few pages and extracted the statement McNunn had made a few days after Urqhart's death. "So it says here. Which is interesting. Because unless you can drive in your sleep, I don't see how we could possibly have picked you up on CCTV in a car with your two cronies and one other person... - what did you call them before you killed them? Rab and Dougie? - near the scene of Urqhart's death?"
Miss Laurie immediately took exception to the last statement.
"Are you accusing my client of killing his two employees who have recently been so tragically murdered by persons unknown?"
"No. Not accusing. Just stating. But, going back to the source of my confusion, I just wanted to clear that bit up. The bit about you being at home, or out driving. With three other people in the car. Do you have any comment to make, bearing in mind that it is an offence to waste police time, and to make false statements which you subsequently sign and attest as being truthful?"
"My client has no comment. He has made a statement already. And nothing has changed."
As she said the words, she glanced across at McNunn, and despite of his efforts at restraint, McKenzie saw the faint flicker of emotion in his eyes as they exchanged glances.
He'd got him worried. Worry that signified guilt. And guilt which revealed that he was definitely hiding something about the murders.
"Okay then, moving on. Where were you last Saturday?"
"When last Saturday?" McNunn answered.
"All of last Saturday." Wessex smiled.
"Why?"
"As mentioned, if you'd been paying attention, your two right-hand men were found dead. In extremely suspicious circumstances. I think it's in your interests to make a clear statement of your location at all times last Saturday, that is, if you wish to be ruled out of the investigation. You may have heard of the expression, all roads lead to Rome? Well, right now, sitting where I sit, it would seem that the epicentre of all suspicions with regard to a whole series of recent murders isn't very far from me at all. And by that, I mean, increasingly, the evidence is pointing to you, Mr McNunn." McKenzie smiled.
Say You're Sorry: A Gripping Crime Thriller (A DCI Campbell McKenzie Detective Conspiracy Thriller No 1) Page 23
