"So, can you make a statement now?" McKenzie finished.
McNunn suddenly looked a bit flustered. It only lasted a few seconds, but it was the first chink that McKenzie had seen in an almost otherwise impervious suit of armour.
"I'll need to go home and get my diary. I'm afraid I can't remember my movements exactly."
"Well, give me them 'un-exactly' then. What time did you leave Galashiels, for example?"
"Galashiels?"
"By the way, how many cars do you own now?"
McNunn sat up straight. Did McKenzie know something? Did he have anything to do with his car being crushed? If so, how?
"I've got four now."
"I thought you had five?"
"No. Your information is wrong. I only have four."
"No matter. Four, you say? Good to know. Thank you."
"Why?"
"I just needed to know."
"You could have got that information from the DVLA. Why ask me?"
"I just wanted to hear it from you personally. Okay, can you please return to the station later today and give us a formal statement? What time would be convenient for you?"
"No time would be convenient for me."
"I'll ask the question again. We, Police Scotland, would like you, Tommy McNunn, to return to the station this afternoon at a time of your choosing to fill in a personal statement with respect to your locations last Saturday. What time shall we expect you?"
Miss Laurie leaned across to her client and whispered something in his ear.
"My lawyer informs me she will not be free until 7.30 p.m."
"Your lawyer isn't required."
"I'd like her to be there."
"Why? Unless you've something to hide, simply filling in a form that states your whereabouts at the time two of your men were murdered should not require any legal consultation. I'm only after a statement of truth, not a legal treatise."
"I'll be here at eight o'clock." McNunn said quite bluntly.
"Good, we'll be expecting you. Well, that's about it for now then. Thank you. I won't be here this evening. I'll let someone else help you with your spelling and I'll look forward to reading whatever story you decide to concoct for us. But returning to the facts, in the next few days, we'll also probably be wanting to talk to you a bit more formally about the murder of your two 'employees'. We're just waiting on the forensics testing to confirm your DNA. But that will certainly be an interesting conversation to be had at that time. Unless there's something you'd like to add now?"
"My client's DNA? What testing are you doing? What exactly are you implying?" the lawyer demanded.
"That's for you to infer. But I only deal with facts. Which is why I worded it as just I did. Like I said, there have been quite a few developments in this case. Interesting developments. Hence my renewed interest in yourself, Mr McNunn."
There was a pause. A momentary silence where McKenzie said no more, letting the power of silence and confusion work its magic.
Miss Laurie and Tommy McNunn exchanged glances, then Tommy dropped his hand on the table with significant pressure, palm down, making a statement as well as a loud bang.
"Are we done?"
"Yes," McKenzie replied. "Unless you want to know how we cracked it..."
"Cracked what?"
"Urqhart's murder. It came down to one thing, really. How did you get into the Queen's Park that night, with Keith Urqhart while he was under duress, without us detecting it? I mean, until we realised how you did it, there was nothing. No videos. No CCTV. Nothing."
McKenzie was silent again. Waiting. Wondering. Would McNunn respond? Unfortunately, he didn't.
"Okay." McKenzie continued, without blinking. "Thank you for coming. If there's nothing else you want to add, - no statements you'd like to change, or shall we say, 'update', then you're free to go."
McKenzie stood up, gesturing to the door.
Once again, he remained silent.
He looked at Wessex. He could see the confusion on her face. At that point McKenzie felt a little guilty. Guilty for not confiding in her earlier. And guilty for just looking at her.
This couldn't go on.
"Interview terminated at 11.20 am." McKenzie added, finalising the formalities.
McKenzie opened the door and held it open.
First to leave was McNunn, followed by his lawyer.
Wessex stood still in the room, staring at him.
Looking back at her, he felt a slight twinge. Of more guilt? Attraction? Arousal?
He wasn't too sure.
She started to walk past him, but stopped in the doorway and turned to him.
"What's going on? What the hell was all that about?" she asked.
"Not now," he replied. "Take him home first, and we'll talk later."
McKenzie watched after her as she followed McNunn out, then shook his head and turned down the corridor in the opposite direction.
-------------------------
St Leonards Police Station
Edinburgh
Wednesday
12.30 p.m. G.M.T.
DI Wessex and DC Johnstone watched and waited in the car park as McNunn and his lawyer had an exchange of words inside her car.
Miss Laurie had to rush back to her previous business, and Tommy had preferred to be driven home in the police car.
During the journey back to McNunn's house, very little was said. There was a thick air of tension in the car, and both Wessex and Johnstone could feel the anger emanating from McNunn.
Whilst Wessex drove, several times she glanced in the rear-view mirror at McNunn, whose stare was fixed on the back of her head.
He caught her eyes in the reflection and made a questioning gesture as if to say, "what the hell is going on?", to which she frowned but could do little more without raising any attention from her colleague.
The next time they made eye contact with each other again, he made the gesture with his hand to signal that he would call her later. She blinked in acknowledgement then turned her attention back to the road.
"Sorry, I've changed my mind. Please just drop me off here," McNunn announced, realising that they were just passing a bank.
"Certainly, Mr McNunn," Wessex replied, and pulled over.
He jumped out, and sarcastically thanked them for the ride, then turned and hurried into the bank.
Only then did DC Johnstone make a comment.
"That man's the biggest shit in Edinburgh. I feel dirty just being near him. I heard tell that half the heroin in Scotland probably comes through him. The sooner someone from Petrovsky's team bumps him off the better."
"A gang war of any form is dangerous. Innocent people end up getting killed."
"Sometimes some collateral damage may be worth it, if it means bastards like him are taken down."
"Maybe. But personally, I don't want to see any more deaths than necessary. And it's our job to prevent them. Anyway, the problem isn't people like McNunn, per se, it's that society allows them to exist in the first place. If McNunn was killed tomorrow, somebody else would just take his place. Until society changes, we're just fighting a never-ending battle." Wessex replied, turning the car around at the next lights and heading back to the station.
"I didn't realise you were such a philosopher," Johnstone replied. "You may be right. But personally, the sooner that man gets killed, disappears or is locked up and the key is thrown away, the better it'll be for everyone."
-------------------------
Tommy McNunn's house.
2.15 p.m.
Tommy McNunn paid the taxi-driver and stepped out of the black cab onto the street just outside his house.
Walking up the driveway to his house, he was relieved to see that there was a light on in one of the bedrooms, which must have been left on when the lights went out.
At the bank, he'd managed to use a large wad of cash to pay the outstanding electricity bill that they apparently owed, along with several thousand pounds in advance to ensure that
it would never happened again.
He'd then called the electricity company on his mobile while he sat in a pub and had something to eat, and insisted that they get their bloody act together and reconnect them, or whatever they had to do.
"Just make sure that by the time I get home, I can switch my laptop on and get back to my work, otherwise I'm going to get my lawyer to sue you for loss of earnings. Do you understand?"
As he approached his house, the front door opened and his wife ran out towards him.
"Where have you been? I was worried about you? You said you'd be home for lunch!"
"I had to go and pay the electricity bill so that we wouldn't freeze again tonight. And so that we can get back online and start to sort all this shit out. By the way, you and I need to talk about last Saturday, and where I was. I have to make a statement about where I was when Rab and Dougie were shot."
"Oh, dear. They don't think you have anything to do with it, do they?"
"It's DCI McKenzie again. He wants to pin anything and everything on me. I wouldn't be surprised if he thinks that global warming is all my fault too. Anyway, let's not talk about this outside. I want to have a shower first. That basement at St Leonards stinks of damp, and it makes me feel sick."
"A shower?" Mrs McNunn repeated his words, parrot fashion.
"Yes. The electricity is back on, and the boiler is working again, isn't it?"
"No, it isn't. We've got electricity again, Tommy, but now we don't have any gas. Tommy, they've cut us off!"
Chapter 31
Tommy McNunn's House,
Edinburgh
Wednesday
4 p.m. G.M.T.
Mrs McNunn stood in the hallway outside Tommy's office, listening to the French.
The conversation had started off rather well, with Tommy following his wife's instructions and doing his best to restrain himself and remain calm.
His good manners and restraint had lasted all of five minutes, most of which was spent pressing buttons and listening to options to select in the automated customer response system.
Almost as soon as he got through to a human, he had been unable to contain himself.
"What the hell do you mean we've not paid our gas bills for the past two years? That's bullshit. We've always paid every penny we were due to pay. Every single bloody penny!"
There was a pause, obviously with the person in the call centre trying to say something. Whatever it was that was said, it set Tommy off again.
"What court summons? What letters? We haven't received a single fucking warning letter from you, you stupid cow!... Oh shit, SHIT! She's bloody hung up!" Tommy swore again, and there was the sound of a phone being smashed against the desk.
"Darling?" Tommy shouted from inside the room. "I know you're listening out there. Can you bring the other phone from the lounge downstairs! This one has stopped working for some reason..."
Once Mrs McNunn had obediently fetched the other phone, and hidden their last remaining one in her kitchen, in case this one would meet the same fate as its predecessor, she once again took up watch outside in the hallway after fetching a cup of tea.
She returned just in time to hear the start of the grovelling. He'd obviously been put through to the same woman.
"I am so sorry, yes, I apologise. It was very rude of me. I know. However, please understand, someone has hacked into all our accounts and screwed them all up. I don't know if it's a massive practical joke, or something really malicious, but we aren't finding it at all funny. Yesterday we lost our electricity account, and then our bank accounts were all emptied. Our money was stolen. And now, ...now it seems you've lost all record of our bank payments for the gas bill..."
There were a few more minutes of grovelling, and then the woman agreed to accept his apology.
"Okay, I'll try to help you, but remember this call is being recorded, so don't be abusive anymore, okay? ... Thank you... Now, please, can you give me your account number again?"
Tommy read the account number off a previous bill, the only one they could find, which was about two years old.
"I'm sorry, can you repeat those details for me?" the woman asked, Tommy noting the slight change in the tone of her voice. He repeated the details again, more slowly this time.
"That's strange..." the woman spoke again, a hint of confusion in her voice. "I can't seem to find your file now. Can we go through that all once more...?"
Tommy held his breath for a few seconds, his blood pressure once again starting to rise. He went through all the details again.
"Mr McNunn, I am terribly sorry, but the computer is telling me that we don't actually have any account with you. There's nothing on the system. I've tried to find it several different ways, ...your account number, your address, your postcode, your name, your wife's name... everything. But according to the system you don't exist. You're certainly not a customer of ours. Which is really strange because when you first came through I was sure that I'd found you on the system. Perhaps I was wrong after all, and I owe you an apology. Maybe we didn't send you any warning letters after all. It must have been someone else I was confusing you with. You see, you aren't a customer of ours after all, or so it seems..."
Which is when the second phone met the same fate as the first.
Followed by a very loud, and very clear instruction for someone to go forth and procreate, alone.
Unfortunately for Mrs McNunn, the last phone was not hidden well enough, and it was only thirty minutes before it too met the same fate.
In those intervening moments before its ultimate destiny was met, the last phone did manage to help achieve clarity on a few points. After speaking with a senior manager, the company did continue to insist that Mr Tommy McNunn had never been a customer of theirs. Their computers were 'very, very reliable', and they were sure there was no mistake. If their computer said 'no', then the answer was 'no'. Of that they were sure.
However, the gas company was willing to expedite the opening of a new account, and could guarantee the connection of a gas supply to their address within five working days, if Mr McNunn successfully completed the application process.
They just needed to prove their identity, their address, a recent utility bill, and proof how long they had been living there, along with a few other pieces of information. Then, since cash payments were no longer accepted by their company, they just needed to set up a direct debit and make their first payment in advance.
"Can you please provide us with details of your bank account?" the nice, kind and very patient woman in the call centre had requested.
Tommy thought about her request for a moment.
Then he thought about his bank account, or lack of one.
Which is when the last phone went to the big call centre in the sky.
-------------------------
Tommy McNunn's house.
4.30 p.m.
The two men who had just arrived at Tommy's house in two separate cars, stood obediently in McNunn’s kitchen whilst he instructed them as to their new roles in his organisation.
"You both know about the hits last Saturday on Rab and Dougie? Yeah? Well, we need to get smart now, and take this war to the next level. Clearly, their murders leave two fresh openings in the McNunn career structure, and it's obvious to me that you are the next two most capable men in my business, so I want to make you an offer? Okay boys?"
Both 'boys' nodded.
"I want to offer you both Rab and Dougie's jobs. But I'm going to pay you both a little more than I paid them, if that's okay with you? I want to ensure that for the increased responsibility I'm going to be handing you guys that you're happy with how I treat you. And in response, you guys will swear to be twice as loyal to me as ever before. You'll learn more about the business, do more for the business, and be more part of the business. Of course, it goes without saying that if either of you ever let me down, grass me up, break the confidence I put in you, or repeat anything you hear around me to any of your mates, your dri
nking pals, or the cops, then I'll kill you with my bare hands. Slowly. Painfully. But most importantly, fatally. Do you boys understand?"
Both boys nodded. They certainly didn't like the sound of being killed fatally.
Not that they were stupid. But it got the point across.
When he told them how much he was going to pay them, they both smiled. A lot.
Which pleased Tommy, because he wanted them to be happy, and the figures he had just mentioned were fifteen percent lower than he had previously been paying Rab and Dougie.
Lastly, Tommy had explained that part of their new duties was to increase their guard and protection of their boss for the next few months. This meant that one of them would always be with him during the evening, not literally, but they would be staying over at Tommy's house in the guest room. They would take it in turns to guard him. Mrs McNunn would provide meals and drinks, but they would be wise to bring some extra clothes and pyjamas. There wasn't any central heating and Tommy couldn't say when it would be fixed.
"If you don't, you might freeze your balls off. You can't say I didn't warn you!"
Relieved that his security had now been sorted out, McNunn remembered that he only had a few hours left to figure out what he was going to tell the police when he made a statement as to his whereabouts at the time he killed Rab and Dougie.
Stressed, feeling jaded, and needing a break away from Mrs McNunn, beautiful though she was, he decided to visit the gym, do some running and then swim some lengths.
He always found that going to the gym was the best way for him to think, or to come up with the answer to a problem. Sometimes he would be jogging along on the treadmill when "ding"... and a solution or an idea just popped into his brain.
Say You're Sorry: A Gripping Crime Thriller (A DCI Campbell McKenzie Detective Conspiracy Thriller No 1) Page 24
