‘Work for you in a house on Great Western Road as soon as you’ve finished here, Bothwell,’ said Donoghue. ‘Details from the desk sergeant.’
CHAPTER 11
‘About fifteen to twenty years I would say,’ said Donoghue in response to Spicer’s question. ‘Nearer twenty, I would think, but you know as much about sentencing patterns in these matters as I do.’
‘Twenty years.’ Spicer’s face was still fixed in a grin but his eyes were no longer smiling. ‘But it’s still the period after that which bothers me. I mean, I’ll never reestablish myself…’
‘That’s your problem, Spicer,’ said Donoghue.
‘I suppose things will work out.’ Spicer sat back in the chair and looked up at the dull white ceiling of the interview room. ‘See, ten years from now I’ll still be in my fifties. With the right breaks I could get out in time to make a bit of money before I’m too old to work. I won’t have any capital to come back to, that’ll all be taken up in paying clients and creditors, but I’ll start somehow. I won’t end my life depending on the state pension.’
‘You don’t have any guilt feelings at all, do you, Spicer?’
‘I try not to, Mr Donoghue. Guilt is a useless and a negative emotion. It’s a dangerous emotion as well: a lot of stupid and impulsive actions spring from guilty feelings.’
‘I don’t suppose you have any conscience either?’
‘I try not to let things dwell on my brain.’
‘I bet you don’t.’
‘Am I mad or bad? Is that what you are thinking, Mr Donoghue?’
‘The thought had crossed my mind.’
‘Rest assured, I’m quite sane and I wouldn’t want to give you any other impression. Do you want to know what I’m thinking at the moment? I’m thinking that I ought not to have started embezzling the monies from the firm because once I started I couldn’t stop. It was especially difficult as I had to cover up every twelve months for the audit, and so it was inevitable that I would be discovered sooner or later. I also wish that I had hired someone a little more professional to kill the reporter. I am further thinking that I ought to have retained my composure when you entered my room earlier today and not have admitted killing Anne McDonald. Until then everything you had against me was circumstantial.’
‘In fact you don’t regret doing any of it, you only regret not getting away with it.’
‘Exactly.’
‘You’re a bastard, Spicer.’
‘You’re not the first person to say that to me and I dare say you won’t be the last. Incidentally, you will by now have found that the girl was over the age of consent.’
‘By two weeks. You were cutting that fine.’
‘Perhaps. Perhaps I’ve been sleeping with her for some time. Either way you’ll never find out.’
‘To think people have been coming to a rat like you with their problems.’
‘And I just sat there and took all their money. I know, I know, but the weak will always go to the wall.’
‘So now it’s your turn. I think there’s a nice ring of justice about that.’
‘I don’t think I’ve gone to the wall. Everybody’s life has its ups and downs and I’m just about to start a low period, but I’ll get back up again. Think positively, Mr Donoghue.’
‘That’s a difficult thing to do in your company, Spicer.’
‘Maybe. This conversation is getting circular. Do you want me to sign that thing or don’t you?’
‘I think you’d better,’ snarled Donoghue. ‘I’ll read it over for you.’
‘You needn’t bother. I murdered Anne McDonald because she was threatening to expose my embezzlement of the firm’s money. I also, rather skilfully I think, transferred suspicion on to an innocent person. I hired the man McCusker and instructed him to murder the reporter, McGarrigle.’ Spicer took his statement and signed it with a ballpoint pen provided by Donoghue. ‘I suppose that was what gave you your break.’
‘What was?’ Donoghue took the statement and slid it into a manilla folder. He put the ballpoint in his jacket pocket.
‘The way I reacted to the reporter. I suppose I was getting scared by then, but I should have brassed it out. He’d have sniffed around and probably come up with one or two points of peripheral interest, but nothing he could go to the law with. Then he would have got bored and gone away. Still, I suppose it’s easy to be wise after the event.’
‘That’s always the way, Spicer,’ said Donoghue. ‘We’ll be sending a report to the Procurator Fiscal. You’ll be appearing before the Glasgow Sheriff this morning and we’ll be moving for you to be held in custody pending your appearance at the High Court charged with murder. We will be opposing bail.’
‘I won’t be applying for it,’ said Spicer, with his face fixed in a ridiculous grin and his little right arm hanging by his side. ‘And now, Mr Donoghue, I have two requests to make.’
‘You have two what to make!’
‘Requests,’ said Spicer calmly.
‘You’re not in much of a position to make requests.’
‘On the contrary. I have co-operated fully with you. I have confessed to all my sins and I intend to throw myself on the mercy of the court. I feel I can make requests.’
‘Go on,’ said Donoghue drily. ‘But no promises.’
‘Firstly, I should like my wife to be brought here to my cell in this police station so that I can tell her that it was I who killed her sister.’
‘You think she’d like that?’
‘No. It will be painful for her. She may even like to assault me, and if she does I would request that you do not intervene until she has scratched my face a little; it would help her. But that would certainly be better than her finding out about it in a newspaper.’
‘So there is a faint glimmer of humanity about you, after all.’
‘My wife will be all right. The house on the Isle of Bute is in her name and there is a considerable sum of money in a building society account which is also in her name. I shall lose everything that is in my name but my wife will remain comfortably off. She ought to be happy; she got out of the Saracen, which was all she really wanted.’
‘You said you had two requests.’
‘Yes. Secondly, I request the opportunity to turn Queen’s Evidence.’
Donoghue sat forward.
‘I should like to make a statement which would incriminate the Jardine brothers.’
‘You’ve already done that.’ Donoghue tapped the manilla folder. ‘In here you say that you and the Jardines planned the bank robbery which was to have taken place this morning.’
‘There’s more. You have access to the accounts we have in the firm. I would draw your attention to the accounts of a company called Deneave Holdings Ltd.’
Donoghue scribbled on his notepad.
‘If you were to check the records held at Company House you will find that the owners of Deneave Holdings Ltd are Phil and Tiny Jardine. You will also find that Deneave Holdings Ltd is a conglomerate of organizations, one of which is the Delayney’s Bar chain here in the city. If further you were to check back the accounts for the six years that they have been held with the firm you will see that periodically there have been massive deposits which coincide in both amount and date with the raids which have been attributed to the Jardines.’
‘You’ve been laundering their money?’
‘Yes. It’s all there in neat columns of figures.’
‘How did you camouflage it?’
‘It was put into three or four different banks. Sometimes I held on to it for a while and credited the accounts of individual clients just prior to the annual audit. The Jardines saved my bacon a few times like that, by pulling a job a couple of months before the audit. We developed a sort of symbiotic relationship. I needed them and they needed me.’
‘Seems to me like you gave yourself so much rope you’d hang yourself, eventually.’
‘Yes, it was a fairly complex system, but anything which baffled the auditor
s helped me. Anyway it’s all there in black and white, as I said. It’s enough in itself to nail the Jardines but I am prepared to speak to it from the witness-box if need be.’
‘Why are you doing this?’ asked Donoghue. ‘Once you do this you’ll need protection from the Jardines, even in prison. You’ll have to go on Rule 43.’
‘Perhaps I’m doing it to assist my career as a prisoner,’ said Spicer, smiling with his eyes again. But there was also a glazed look in the man’s eyes which worried Donoghue. ‘You see, my sentences will run concurrently so the one I have to worry about is the charge of murder. It was a premeditated attack, which could mean a twenty-year term, as you have already said, and so I have to set about reducing it. Initially, I will instruct my counsel to enter a plea in mitigation to the effect that I was being blackmailed and that I tried to atone by marrying the girl’s sister and spending lavishly on her.’
‘That’s untrue!’ snapped Donoghue. ‘You married Carol McDonald to remove any last suspicion of you being the man who murdered her sister.’
‘That may be your opinion, Mr Donoghue. It may also be the opinion of others, but since nobody can disprove my claim I may be given the benefit of the doubt, especially as I have confessed willingly to everything and have, in addition, turned Queen’s Evidence, which should lead to the arrest of a highly successful gang of organized criminals. Altogether that should get me a big reduction in sentence, say five years, so already we are down to a fifteen-year stretch.’
‘I wouldn’t bank on it, Spicer. Especially as you set up an innocent man and watched him go down.’
‘The responsibility for that miscarriage of justice rests on the shoulders of the Fiscal’s office and the Courts, not with me. However, to continue; the admission of my guilt and the turning of Queen’s Evidence will lie on my file and will eventually become available to the parole board. I will apply for parole after five years. I wont get it the first time, nobody does, but the sooner I start applying the sooner I’ll get it. At any rate I should get remission for good behaviour because I intend to be a model prisoner. All in all, I expect to serve about ten years, the majority of which will be spent in an open prison. That is survivable.’
8.30 a.m. Donoghue left the interview room and walked to the front desk. He was tired, slow in his movements and his eyelids were heavy. He had been on duty for exactly twenty-four hours but his tiredness didn’t stop him from being pleased to see that WPC Elka Willems was back on duty. As he acknowledged the tall blonde girl he was reminded of the shock waves which went through ‘P’ Division when she stepped over the threshold for the first time. Also entering the building as Donoghue approached the front desk was Chief Superintendent Findlater, his huge frame almost filling the narrow doorway.
‘Good morning, good morning, Fabian.’ Findlater approached Donoghue. ‘It’s a glorious day. Did you get any holiday at all, Fabian? You know, I hated leaving you with that newspaperman’s murder, but I was confident you could handle it.’
‘I got out a bit, sir,’ said Donoghue, falling into step with Findlater who led him away from the front desk. ‘I went to Rothesay, on the Isle of Bute.’
‘Good, good. I was golfing. St Andrews, very enjoyable. A man needs a break from time to time, Fabian.’
‘Indeed he does, sir,’ said Donoghue with forced enthusiasm. ‘There’s one or two things for your attention, sir. I’d particularly like to draw your attention to a memo I wrote to you requesting your approval to re-open the case of Jack Gilheaney.’
‘Gilheaney…I don’t recall.’
‘I’ll come along and chat about it, sir.’
‘And I’m hardly in the door. No rest for the wicked, eh, Fabian?’
Donoghue held open a door for Findlater. ‘We have a murder at Bishopbriggs. Abernethy’s on it at the moment.’
‘Have you identified the body?’
‘Not yet, sir. I was just going to enquire of the desk sergeant whether Abernethy had contacted us yet.’
‘I see. What about the newspaper man—what was his name? McGinty?’
‘McGarrigle, sir.’
‘Yes, him. Any developments?’
‘We have identified the suspect but we haven’t arrested him yet, a man by the name of McCusker. We have also arrested a man who has confessed to be an accomplice to the McGarrigle murder. He has also confessed to a series of other crimes including the Fair Friday murder.’
‘The Fair Friday murder. We sent someone down for that.’
‘Yes, sir. Gilheaney, sir.’
‘Oh dear,’ said Findlater. ‘I think you’d better come to my office for a chat, Fabian.’
‘I’d be pleased to,’ said Donoghue drily.
‘So Spicer’s safely under lock and key,’ said Findlater after Donoghue had finished relating the events of the Fair weekend. ‘McCusker’s still on the run and we might have enough to move against the Jardines.’
‘Well, we have only Spicer’s word that they were party to the planned bank raid. They will deny it completely and they were careful not to let their fingerprints get on any of the weapons we found in the safe house. We haven’t yet followed up Spicer’s claim about the accounts of Deneave Holdings Ltd, but if it does check out, then that’s bad news for the Jardines.’
‘You’ll be getting on to that today?’
‘I’ll be setting the inquiry in motion, sir. I won’t be attending to it personally.’
‘So long as it’s done.’
The telephone on Findlater’s desk rang. Findlater grasped it in his huge hand and put the receiver to his ear. ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘he’s here.’
Donoghue took the phone and listened. Eventually he said, ‘Right, get back here and come to the Chief Superintendent’s office. You’ll have to report verbally. Ask Dr Reynolds to send his report on as soon as he can, please.’ Donoghue replaced the receiver. ‘That was Abernethy,’ he said. ‘There was no ID on the deceased’s clothes and so he had to wait until the fingerprints had been processed.’
‘Which revealed him to be?
‘Neutron John McCusker,’ said Donoghue. He was shot through the head but had also sustained some interesting marks on his person.’
‘Such as?’
‘I don’t know. Abernethy wouldn’t elaborate and he sounded pretty excited, so I didn’t press him.’
‘I hope he calms down before the meeting.’
‘I’m sure he will. Do you mind if I use your phone, sir? If I’m lucky I’ll catch King and Montgomerie before they sign out.’
The meeting was convened at 9.05 a.m. shortly after Abernethy had returned from the Royal Infirmary. Chief Superintendent Findlater was ‘the chair’, Elka Willems took the minutes, Abernethy was fresh-faced and nervous, Donoghue, King and Montgomerie were bleary-eyed.
‘Take your time, lad,’ said Findlater in his slow Highland accent.
‘Well, yes, sir,’ stammered Abernethy. He was in his early twenties, and even had a residual trace of acne. He consulted his notebook. ‘The deceased was discovered on a piece of waste ground early this morning. He has since been identified as one Bernie McCusker, alias Neutron John, who I believe is wanted in connection with the murder of Bill McGarrigle.’
‘That’s correct,’ grunted Findlater.
‘There was no identification on the body, that is, I mean, on his clothing, no wallet or anything, and so we had to wait until we could,process his fingerprints on the computer, that’s what the delay…’
‘That’s all right,’ said Donoghue supportingly.
‘He was killed by a firearm wound to the head. The pathologist, Dr Reynolds, remarked that it was almost a classic straight between the eyes shot.’
‘Almost?’ Findlater looked at Abernethy.
‘Well, the bullet entered the man’s head about here.’ Abernethy tapped the centre of his own forehead. It seemed to Donoghue to be quite a comic gesture, but maybe that was fatigue getting the better of him. He knew from experience that the serious can seem amusing when one i
s tired. He coughed to stop himself from smiling. Abernethy continued, ‘I suppose the doctor meant that the point of entry was a bit high to be called “between the eyes”…’
‘Anything else of relevance,’ asked Findlater, with a sourness which surprised Donoghue.
Abernethy turned the page in his notebook. ‘Well, I suppose the most significant thing would be the marks on the body of the deceased. They are burns.’
‘Burns?’ It was Montgomerie. He was very frightened that he knew what Abernethy was going to say.
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Don’t call DC Montgomerie “sir”, lad,’ said Findlater. ‘Carry on.’
‘Yes, sir. There were about twenty of them, sustained just before he was killed. The pathologist could tell that because some of the burns, what would have been the last two or three to be inflicted, did not go very deep into the skin tissue.’
‘Death prevented further damage, you mean?’
‘Apparently, yes, sir. On some of the burns the damage did extend quite deeply. Damage there was as full as would have been expected, apparently.’
‘Significance?’ asked Donoghue.
‘Well…’ Abernethy began to fidget. ‘Well, apparently the burns were inflicted over a long period, four or five hours thought the doctor. He thinks the deceased must have been in great pain when he died. Time of death was about eleven p.m. yesterday.’
‘What time did you see McCusker leave the safe house, Montgomerie?’ Donoghue turned to him.
‘Approximately seven-fifteen p.m. yesterday.’
‘The burns had a distinctive mark, sir,’ Abernethy continued. ‘A sort of R with a bar through it.’
‘That should help us.’ Findlater sat back in his chair.
‘There’s a few other points which Dr Reynolds asked me to relate to the meeting.’ Abernethy looked down at his notebook. ‘Carpet fibres found underneath the deceased’s toenails match some of the fibres found on his clothing. There are rope burns to the deceased’s wrists, traces of cotton in his mouth, especially between the teeth…oh yes, the gun was fired at point blank range, there’s burn marks round the entry wound. There’s a big exit wound and the doctor says that if we find the deceased’s brains he would be interested in having a look. There was no damage to the deceased’s clothing. That’s about it, sir. Dr Reynolds will be forwarding his report as soon as it’s typed.’
Fair Friday Page 17
