‘Someone’ll give me one,’ she replied, walking towards the automatic doors. Fox bought a paper at the shop, then queued for coffee and a bacon roll. He ordered the same for Jude and sat at a table. His phone buzzed. Caller ID: Tony Kaye.
‘Morning, Tony.’
‘How’s your old man doing?’
‘Just gone for a scan.’
‘You at the Infirmary?’
‘Yes.’
‘We’re just heading across the bridge. Back to sunny Fife.’
‘I’ve not had a chance to look at the report yet.’
‘No rush.’
‘Conclusion looks sound, though.’ Fox had made the mistake of opening the bacon roll. The meat was as grey as the faces around him. He pushed it away.
‘I had a text from Cash first thing,’ Kaye was saying. ‘Joe and me both get to sit in on the interview. We’re supposed to keep our traps shut, but if there’s something we think he’s missed, we give him a sign and discuss it outside the door.’
‘You okay with that?’
‘You know me, Malcolm.’
Fox smiled to himself. ‘That’s why I’m asking.’
‘Nothing I like better than obeying an order, especially when there’s a complete prick on the other end of it.’
Naysmith made a comment from the car’s passenger seat.
‘What’s Joe saying?’ Fox asked.
‘He’s accusing me of getting too close to the Beamer in front.’
‘Outside lane?’ Fox guessed. ‘Seventy-five, eighty…?’
‘And?’
‘And making a phone call.’
‘Just jump-starting young Joe’s heart, so he’s on his mettle in Kirkcaldy.’
‘Let me know how it goes.’
‘Just you focus on your old man.’ Kaye paused. ‘How’s Jude coping?’
‘Not brilliantly.’
‘What about you?’
‘I’m all right.’
‘Nothing’s more important than family, Malcolm.’
‘So you told me last night.’
‘Because it’s true. Paul Carter and his uncle… Francis Vernal… none of them are coming back. Flesh and blood sometimes has to take priority.’
Fox watched Jude re-enter the building. She saw him, and he gestured towards the roll and coffee waiting for her. She shook her head and pointed in the direction of the ward, then moved off that way, quickly disappearing from view.
‘Let me know how it goes,’ Fox repeated into the phone. Then: ‘Are you playing Alex Harvey again?’
‘Got to keep reminding Joe that there’s more to life than Lady Gaga,’ Kaye explained, ending the call.
Tosh Garioch’s lawyer wasn’t sure about the presence of Kaye and Naysmith.
‘They are here to observe,’ DI Cash told him.
The interview was being recorded, and Naysmith cast a jaundiced eye over DS Young’s efforts to set up the apparatus, even sighing once or twice, to Young’s obvious annoyance.
Tosh Garioch had pushed his chair back from the desk, the better to splay his legs. He was stocky and muscular, bald dome shining and the thistle tattoo wending its way up the side of his neck.
‘You know why you’re here, Mr Garioch?’ Cash asked, poising a pen above his notebook. Across the table, the lawyer also had a pen. He kept clicking it, until Cash asked him to stop – ‘Anyone listening might think I was firing staples at you,’ Cash explained. Then he repeated the question.
‘Yeah,’ Garioch agreed, hand cupping his crotch as he repositioned everything down there. ‘I suppose I do.’
‘So what were you doing last Wednesday night?’
‘I was at home. Normally I’d have been working.’
‘As a doorman? For Alan Carter’s company?’
‘Not so easy now he’s dead.’
‘You could always ask the Shafiqs for a job.’ Cash paused, eyes fixed on Garioch. ‘Or maybe not, after you wrangled with them on your employer’s behalf.’
Kaye was standing against the far wall, hands behind his back. Garioch gave a glance in his direction. He was wondering where Cash had got that info.
‘The Shafiqs were business,’ the doorman stated. ‘It all got cleared up.’
‘Is any of this relevant?’ the lawyer interrupted, doodling on a sheet of paper.
‘Just warming up,’ Cash informed him with a cold smile. Then, to Garioch: ‘Mind me asking who was at home with you?’
‘Yes.’
Classic mistake – Cash admitted as much with a twitch of his mouth: never ask a question where the answer gets you no further forward.
‘Were you on your own?’
‘I was with my girlfriend.’
‘Ah.’ Cash dug a scrap of paper out of his pocket and studied it. ‘Billie Donnelly, yes?’
Garioch couldn’t help looking in Tony Kaye’s direction again. Kaye responded with a wink.
‘Is this going anywhere, DI Cash?’ the lawyer asked, feigning boredom.
‘We’ve got a witness description fitting your client to a T,’ Cash explained. ‘Walking down the high street in wet clothes not too long after Paul Carter was beaten up and chased into the sea. Another witness saw the actual chase. Looks to me like a line-up has to be the next order of business.’
‘No way,’ Garioch said, turning to his lawyer for confirmation. The lawyer slid his thick-rimmed spectacles back up his nose. Cash leaned across the desk towards the pair of them.
‘Two witnesses, Tosh. And talk about a motive! You’re on the dole because your boss has been topped, and the whole town knows who did it – now you see him staggering out of the Wheatsheaf. None of his CID mates are there to help him. A few angry words, and it begins to turn nasty. We all know Paul Carter’s rep – fair old temper on him. I’m not saying he didn’t throw the first punch.’ Cash made show of studying Garioch’s face for injuries. ‘On the other hand, he definitely came off worse. He knew it wasn’t going to get any better, so he ran. And you went after him. Along the promenade, then down on to the shore itself. You’re a big man, but not in the best of shape. Maybe you were never going to catch him, but he was so scared he ran into the surf anyway. Or you did catch him…’ Cash’s voice drifted off. ‘Maybe you did at that.’
‘Do I have to listen to this?’ Garioch asked his lawyer.
‘I think DI Cash would be foolish to think of charging you at this altogether shoddy juncture,’ the lawyer speculated.
‘There’ll be other witnesses,’ Cash warned them. ‘We haven’t even put the description out yet. Huge bald brute of a man with a tattoo on his neck, stumbling through the streets in drenched trousers? Think back, Tosh – you know yourself you were spotted. Nice line-up we’ll put together… but only after we’ve brought Billie in. Give her a good hard session.’ Kaye found himself moving forward half a pace, ready to step in: looked to him as though Garioch was gearing up to go for his tormentor’s throat. Cash seemed to realise it too, but it only made him lean a little further across the table towards the man. ‘She might perjure herself for you – but that’ll count against her in court. She’ll end up going down, same as you. You know that old thing they say on TV movies – motive, means, opportunity?’ Cash held up three fingers. ‘My scratchcard’s showing three gold bars, Tosh.’
He eased back in his chair, clasping his hands together. Garioch leaned his knuckles against the edge of the desk, then rose slowly to his feet.
‘Did I say you could leave?’ Cash asked, not unpleasantly.
‘I can go when I want?’ Garioch checked with his lawyer. The lawyer nodded.
‘Then I’m out of here.’
‘Harder you make it for me, the more I’m going to enjoy it,’ Cash warned both men.
Garioch glared at him but said nothing. Then he noticed that Tony Kaye was standing between him and the door.
‘There’s a deal to be done,’ Kaye stated. ‘If Paul Carter was being set up by his uncle and you had anything to do with it… They’re both dead, what’s it going to matter?’
‘Did I give you permission to speak?’ Cash said, his voice almost too calm. Kaye ignored him and kept his eyes locked on Garioch’s.
‘There’s a deal to be done,’ he repeated quietly, holding out a business card.
Garioch looked from Kaye to Cash, and from Cash to everyone else in the room.