‘Who told the Yanks where I was staying?’
He already knew the answer — Ludovic Lumsden — but wanted it on tape if possible. But Eve shrugged, and Toal shook his head.
‘Tell me what you were doing in Aberdeen.’
Eve busied herself with her cigarette, so Toal cleared his throat.
‘Working for my dad.’
‘Doing what specifically?’
‘Selling an’ that.’
‘Selling?’
‘Dope — speed, skag, anything and everything.’
‘You sound very relaxed, Mr Toal.’
‘Mibbe resigned would be nearer the mark.’ Toal sat up in his chair. ‘Eve says we can trust you. I wouldn’t know about that, but I know what my dad’ll do when he finds out we’ve been skimming.’
‘So I’m the lesser of two evils?’
‘You said it, not me.’
‘All right, let’s get back to Aberdeen. You were supplying drugs?’
‘Aye.’
‘Who to?’
‘Burke’s Club.’
‘The individuals’ names?’
‘Erik Stemmons and Judd Fuller. Specifically Judd, though Erik knows the score, too.’ He smiled at Eve. ‘Score,’ he repeated. She nodded, letting him know she got the joke.
‘Why specifically Judd Fuller?’
‘Erik runs the club, does the business side of things. Doesnae’ like getting his hands dirty, you know, pretends everything’s above board.’
Rebus remembered Stemmons’ office — paperwork everywhere. Mr Businessman.
‘Can you give me a description of Fuller?’
‘You’ve met him: he gave you that beating.’ Toal grinned. The man with the pistoclass="underline" had he sounded American? Had Rebus been listening that hard?
‘I didn’t see him though.’
‘Well, he’s six feet, black hair, it always looks wet. Brylcreem or something. Back-combs it, long, like that Saturday Night Fever guy.’
‘Travolta?’
‘Aye, in that other film. You know.’ Toal made like he was spraying the room with bullets.
‘Pulp Fiction?’
Toal clicked his fingers.
‘Except Judd’s face is thinner,’ Eve added. ‘In fact, he’s thinner all round. He does like wearing dark suits though. And there’s a scar on the back of one of his hands, looks like it was sewn together too tight.’
Rebus nodded. ‘Does Fuller deal only drugs?’
Toal shook his head. ‘Naw, he’s got fingers in every pie: prozzies, porn, casinos, a bit of reset, fake designer stuff — watches and shirts an’ that.’
‘All-round entrepreneur,’ Eve added, flicking ash into the waste-bin. She was being careful to say nothing that would incriminate her.
‘And Judd and Erik aren’t the only ones. There are some Yanks in Aberdeen worse than they are: Eddie Segal, Moose Maloney...’ Toal saw the look on Eve’s face and ground to a halt.
‘Malcolm,’ she said sweetly, ‘we do want to get out of this alive, don’t we?’
Toal’s face reddened. ‘Forget I said that,’ he told Rebus. Rebus nodded, but the machine wouldn’t forget.
‘So,’ Rebus said, ‘why did you kill Tony El?’
‘Me?’ Toal said, going into his act. Rebus sighed and looked at the tips of his shoes.
‘I think,’ Eve prodded, ‘that means the Inspector wants everything. We don’t talk to him, he has a word with your dad.’
Toal stared at her, but she held it; he broke off first. His hands went back to his crotch. ‘Yeah,’ he said, ‘well, I was under orders.’
‘Who from?’
‘Dad, of course. See, Tony was still working for us. He was day-to-day running of the Aberdeen end. All that stuff about him leaving, that was just a story. But after you came and spoke to Dad... he went through the fucking roof, because Tony had been doing outside hits, endangering the operation. And now you were on to him, so...’
‘So Tony had to go?’ Rebus was remembering that Tony El had bragged to Hank Shankley about his ‘Glasgow connections’ — he hadn’t been lying.
‘That’s right.’
‘And I don’t suppose you were too upset to see the back of him?’
Eve smiled. ‘Not particularly upset, no.’
‘Because to save his own neck, Tony might have grassed the two of you?’
‘He didn’t know we were skimming, but he found out about the hotel arrangements.’
‘Biggest mistake he ever made,’ Toal said, grinning again. He was getting cockier by the minute, enjoying telling the story, basking in the knowledge that everything was going to be fine. As he grew cockier, so Eve seemed to regard him with less and less good grace. She’d be relieved to be free of him, Rebus could see that. The poor little bastard.
‘You had CID fooled, they thought it was suicide.’
‘Well, when you’ve a cop or two in your pocket...’
Rebus looked at Toal. ‘Say that again.’
‘A cop or two on the payroll.’
‘Names?’
‘Lumsden,’ Toal said. ‘Jenkins.’
‘Jenkins?’
‘He’s something to do with the oil industry,’ Eve explained.
‘Oil Liaison Officer?’
She nodded.
Who’d been on holiday when Rebus had arrived, Lumsden standing in for him. With those two on your side, you’d have no trouble supplying the production platforms with whatever they needed — a real captive market. And when the workers came ashore, you had further delights for them: clubs, prozzies, booze and gambling. The legit and the illicit working side by side, each feeding the other. No wonder Lumsden had tagged along on the trip out to Bannock; he was protecting his investment.
‘What do you know about Fergus McLure?’
Toal looked to Eve, ready to talk but seeking permission. She nodded, keeping her own mouth shut.
‘He had a little accident, got too close to Judd.’
‘Fuller killed him?’
‘Hands on, that’s what Judd said.’ There was a hint of hero worship in Toal’s voice. ‘Told McLure they had to talk somewhere private, said walls had ears. Moseyed down to the canal with him, a dunt to the head with his gun, and into the water.’ Toal shrugged. ‘He was back in Aberdeen in time for a late breakfast.’ He smiled at Eve. ‘Late.’ Presumably another joke, but she was beyond smiling back. She just wanted out of there.
Rebus had other questions, but he was beginning to tire. He decided to leave it at that. He got up and nodded for Jack to switch off the machine, then told Eve she could go.
‘What about me?’ Toal asked.
‘You don’t leave together,’ Rebus reminded him. Toal seemed to accept this. Rebus saw Eve along the corridor and down the stairs. Neither of them said a word, not even goodbye. But he watched her leave before asking the desk officer for a couple of uniforms, a.s.a.p. at the interview room.
When he got back, Jack had just finished rewinding the tapes, and Toal was on his feet, doing some stretching exercises. There was a knock, and the two uniforms came in. Toal stood up straight, sensing something was wrong.
‘Malcolm Toal,’ Rebus said, ‘I am charging you with the murder of Anthony Ellis Kane on the night of —’
With a roar, Mad Malky flew at Rebus, hands scrabbling at his neck.
The woolly suits eventually got him into a cell, and Rebus sat on a chair in the interview room, watching his hands shaking.
‘You OK?’ Jack asked.
‘Know what, Jack? You’re like a broken record.’