‘Good. Keep it that way, while I’m thinking about what all this means. Don’t tell anybody, anybody at all. Can you live with that?’
She gazed back at him. ‘Remember what happened to Sean, Bob? He’s dead because of all this; I can live with it, no problem.’
‘Of course you can,’ he said quietly. He paused, then went on: ‘I’m going to need everything there is on Ormond Hassett. We’d better take a look at him. While you’re finding that, I need something else from you.’
‘What’s that?’
‘A car. DI Shannon and I are going up to Derbyshire.’
Forty-nine
They were passing the Commonwealth Pool when Mackenzie’s mobile sounded. The chief inspector shifted in the passenger seat and reached inside his jacket. ‘Yes,’ he snapped testily. There had been little conversation, only a silent tension, between him and Wilding on the drive up from Leith. ‘Ah, it’s you, Dorward; about bloody time, too.’
As he drove, the sergeant glanced occasionally to his left, trying to read anything he could from his boss’s expression. ‘And that’s it?’ said Mackenzie at last. ‘Okay, leave it with me.’
‘The car, sir?’
‘Yes. It took all bloody night, but they reduced the thing to its component parts.’
‘Did they find drug traces?’
‘Not a fucking scrap.’
‘Bugger.’
‘They did find something, though: the Mercedes A Class has what they call a sandwich floor construction. The mechanic got them right in there and they were able to identify very small strips of waxed paper, thick, virtually waterproof stuff, like you’d use to wrap drugs for carriage.’
‘Did they match it to the packages we found in Starr’s safe?’
‘More or less; Dorward says it’s similar.’
‘Shit,’ Wilding grunted. ‘That’s not very helpfuclass="underline" “similar” is no bloody use in court.’
‘It’s a start.’ Mackenzie took a notebook from his pocket and flicked through it, then dialled a number. ‘English, please,’ he said, when he was answered. ‘Mr Marquez, Drugs Unit.’ Beside him, the sergeant frowned. ‘Antonio? It’s DCI Mackenzie here in Edinburgh, about the Pamplona thing. We’ve completed our examination of the man Starr’s car; we have found suspicious material. Do you understand? Suspicious material. . Yes. You are clear to raid the garage and question the people there. Thanks. Please advise me when the operation is complete. You’ve got my number. Good luck.’
Wilding was still frowning as he cleared the complicated roundabout at the foot of Dalkeith Road and headed for Gilmerton. ‘They tell me that guy Steele lives around here,’ the Bandit said suddenly.
At once, the sergeant knew the reason for his strange mood. ‘Gordon Terrace,’ he replied, ‘on the other side of the Cameron Toll shopping precinct.’
‘Mmm. He’s going to be our new playmate, Ray.’ He tried to sound casual but failed. ‘McIlhenney called me this morning; I was barely in my seat when he rang. He’s moving him down from Torphichen Place. They’re putting a DI in over your head, son: don’t take it personally, though.’
‘I won’t: I’ve known Stevie Steele for years. He’s a sound guy.’
‘He must be. He lives with a chief superintendent, from what I hear.’
‘That’s right. I expect they’ve been looking for an opportunity to shift him into a different office from her.’
He drove past the Royal Infirmary, and took a right turn into Humphrey Street. He drew up outside number sixteen, switched off the engine and turned to Mackenzie. ‘Sir,’ he said, ‘about this Pamplona thing: did you brief Mr McIlhenney when you spoke to him?’
‘What’s that to do with you? Are you covering your arse again?’
‘Actually, boss, I’m trying to cover yours. This isn’t Dan Pringle’s era any more: it’s a new regime.’
Mackenzie laughed. ‘My arse is made of asbestos, DS Wilding. Thanks for your concern, but I’ll do it my way. Now come on, let’s go and talk to Starr’s ex.’
Kitty Philips was a small woman, but her confident stance as she opened the door sent out the message that she punched above her weight; her hair was a shade of blonde that could not possibly have been natural, she displayed more makeup than was usual for that time of the day and she wore a pale-blue catsuit, the uniform of the gym generation. Wilding wondered how she would have looked had he not called to check that she would be in.
‘Yes?’ she challenged.
‘DCI Mackenzie and DS Wilding,’ the chief inspector began.
She looked at the sergeant. ‘You’re the boy that phoned.’
‘Yes,’ he replied. ‘Can we come in?’
‘I’d rather that than have you stand at my door for the neighbours to admire.’
The house was a semi-detached villa, built in the second half of the twentieth century. The living room was comfortably, rather than lavishly, furnished. Looking around, Mackenzie guessed that the enormous plasma television set, mounted like a mirror on a wall, was easily the most expensive item on view.
‘You’re late,’ the former Mrs Starr said abruptly.
Mackenzie smiled at her, amused by her petulance. ‘Come again?’
‘It’s taken you three days to get here. I’d have thought I’d have been first on your list for a visit.’
‘I’m sorry to disappoint you: we had other priorities. But now we are here, I might as well ask you straight out, did you kill your former husband, Mrs Philips?’
‘That’s better,’ she exclaimed sarcastically. ‘No, I did not.’
‘Where were you on Friday night?’
‘At the bingo, down in Meadowbank.’
‘Alone?’
‘No. I was with my friends Morven and Izzy.’
‘Till when?’
‘Till it finished; after that we got a taxi back here and had a drink. They left after midnight. Ask them; you can have their addresses if you like.’
‘What about Mr Philips?’
The woman gave a snorting laugh. ‘Do you mean, did he kill Gary? He’s never even met him. It’d have been some trick if he did, too. Les is a lorry driver: he was in Lisbon on Friday.’
‘You were fairly quick off your mark phoning the lawyer, though, to see if you were still in the will.’
‘Ollie told you that, did he? Why the hell shouldn’t I? Gary was casual about these things. . not that he’ll have left much behind him. He had to remortgage to give me my share when we split up, and he only had that one poky wee betting shop.’
‘How did you feel about your ex, Mrs Philips?’ asked Wilding.
‘I didn’t feel anything about him. He was never bad to me, just never particularly good to me either.’
‘How long were you married?’
‘Twelve years: we were together for a year or two before that, and we just sort of drifted into it. We got divorced four years ago.’
‘Why?’
‘Because he was as tight as a fish’s ring, if you want to know the truth. What’s the point in living in a big expensive house and dressing like a tramp? I stood it for long enough; I told him how I felt but he never listened, so eventually I walked out.’
‘Did you know Mr Philips at that point?’
‘No. I met him a year after the divorce; like I said, he doesn’t know Gary at all.’
‘How much did you get out of it?’
‘Two hundred and eighty thousand. My lawyer did a good job: he got me half the value of the house, the furniture and the shop, plus maintenance. The deal was so good that I worried for a while that he’d go out of business and the alimony would dry up. To tell you the truth, I don’t know how he did it.’
‘We do,’ said Mackenzie, noting her instant curiosity.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Mr Starr had other business interests beside the shop.’
Kitty Philips looked incredulous. ‘Who? Gary? Pull the other one, pal. Gary was a gambler, pure and simple; that’s all he knew. I used to tell him that when he had a good run he should put the money into something different, like a pub, or more shops, but he wouldn’t listen.’
‘So all the time you were married, he never had any other source of income?’
‘No, and I’m pretty sure I’d have known. He’d bring home cash occasionally and put it in the home safe. I never knew the combination, but I could see what he was putting in and it wasn’t that much, a few hundred at a time, and not so often that it would ever amount to a fortune. I used to reckon that he was skimming the tax man, and I’m pretty sure I was right.’