A Rush of Blood

Seven

‘What are we doing here, Jack?’ DC Haddock asked his companion, as he slid his car into a residents’ parking space in North Castle Street, switched off the engine and displayed a card bearing the force crest and reading ‘Police business’. ‘This is supposed to be a suicide and we’re CID: uniforms should be doing this, surely.’

‘SOW,’ DS McGurk replied, as he unfolded his towering frame out of the passenger seat, looking bulkier than was usual, in a fur-lined leather jacket.

‘What’s that when it’s at home?’

‘Senior Officers’ Whims. We’re here because Becky Stallings told us. She told us because Neil McIlhenney told her. He told her. . either because it was his idea or because he got told himself, the latter I reckon, since I don’t see him volunteering us for this job. That leaves Mario McGuire, but he’s of the same mind as big Neil. There’s only one man who’s going to tell him what to do and that’s the chief himself.’

‘Is he subject to whims?’

‘Oh yes. I was his exec for a wee while, so I know that for sure. If the boss has an itch about something, it has to be scratched.’

‘So what do we do? All the DI said was to make inquiries.’

‘That means we do what we think best, and that is, what we bloody well like.’ He looked at a brass plate fixed to a fence outside a tall, terraced building, faced with grey stone, like much of central Edinburgh. ‘This is it,’ he said. ‘Lietuvos Leisure Limited. Lietuvos Developments Limited. The dead man’s companies. I wonder what the hell the word means.’

‘I looked it up,’ Haddock volunteered. ‘Dead simple; it’s Lithuanian for Lithuania. The late Mr Zaliukas seems to have been quite a nationalist, for all he lived here for more than half his life. What with this, and his tattoo. .’ He paused. ‘We’re sure the body is him, are we? If the crest on his hand is all we have for ID. . well, there could have been others like it in the Lithuanian community, couldn’t there?’

‘For a start, Sauce, the morgue told me that the body was carrying Zaliukas’s wallet, wearing his watch and had his car key in its pocket. The shirt it was wearing is monogrammed with the initials “T Z”. As for the tattoo, my old boss Dan Pringle once told me a story about Zaliukas. In the early days of his gang, back in the nineties, one of his guys got a bit uppity, saw himself as a rival. So he had the same national crest put on his own right hand. Tomas decided to make a point of his own; he removed the imitation himself, at the wrist, with a chainsaw.’

‘Jesus! Did the poor sod die?’

‘No. They put a tourniquet on and got him to the Royal in time. We were called, but the guy swore it was an accident; he said that he’d been lopping a tree and had slipped. As soon as he got out of hospital, he went back to Lithuania. Come on, let’s get inside; it’s fucking freezing out here.’

The Lietuvos office was in the basement level of the building. Seeing lights inside, the two detectives walked down the few steps from the pavement, only to find that the door was locked. McGurk pressed a button above the letter box. ‘Here,’ he muttered, as they waited, ‘I forgot to ask. Did you score last night?’

Despite the cold, Haddock felt himself flush. ‘Mind your own damn business, Jack,’ he retorted. ‘I don’t have to ask whether you did. You and Lisanne were all over each other.’

The big sergeant shrugged. ‘It’s allowed. She’s moving in with me. That was a right stunner you pulled, though. Are you seeing her again?’

‘You’ll find out on Friday, at the dance.’

As he spoke, the door opened. A frowning woman, on the lower edge of middle age, looked up at them. ‘What is it?’ she demanded, brusquely. ‘This is a private office. We do not see salesmen here.’

‘We’re not selling,’ McGurk told her, ‘and although we might look like them, we’re not Jehovah’s Witnesses either. People usually call us “The Polis”: CID.’ He showed her his warrant card. ‘Now are you going to let us into the warm, please.’

The guardian relented, she opened the door and let them step inside, into a small reception area with a desk and a door behind it: the sergeant had to duck to avoid the lintel. ‘What is wrong?’ she asked. ‘Has there been trouble at one of the pubs? Have we had a break-in? I’m sure if there had been, the manager would have reported it to us.’

‘No, that’s not it. Who’s in charge here?’

‘Mr Tomas Zaliukas, but he’s not in at the moment.’

‘Has he been in at all today?’

‘No, he hasn’t; I was expecting him, but he hasn’t arrived yet.’

‘Has he called in to say where he is?’

‘No, but he wouldn’t. He doesn’t tell me of his every movement.’

‘In his absence, who’s in charge? You? Mrs. .’

‘Mrs Gerulaitis. No, not me; I am secretary to Mr Zaliukas and to my husband, Valdas. He is Mr Zaliukas’s deputy, and so if anyone is in charge in his absence, it is him.’

‘Good,’ said McGurk, patiently. ‘Is he here now?’

‘Yes, but he is busy.’

‘So are we, but it’s necessary. We’ll be as quick as we can, I promise you, but we need to speak to him.’

The woman frowned. ‘Very well, I’ll tell him.’

‘Thank you.’ The sergeant sighed.

‘OK, OK!’ she snapped. ‘Wait, will you, while I see if he is available.’

‘Thank God you get a drink quicker than this in Zaliukas’s pubs,’ Haddock muttered, as she disappeared through the door at the rear of the reception area. He wandered across to a low table in the bay window of the office; the few glossy magazines that were scattered upon it were all in a language that he assumed was Lithuanian. There were no chairs, apart from that behind the desk; the comfort of visitors was not a priority.

Happily their wait was short. The door reopened, and a man appeared, tall, but still dwarfed by McGurk. He wore a two-piece, single-breasted suit with a pinstripe that seemed to emphasise his lean build. His hairline was receding, and a few grey hairs showed, to match the dandruff that lay on his shoulders like a gentle fall of snow. ‘Gentlemen,’ he said, managing to smile yet look concerned at the same time. ‘Valdas Gerulaitis. What’s the problem?’

‘DS McGurk, and DC Haddock. I hope there is no problem, but we reckon we have some bad news for you. Can we go somewhere private?’

‘Sure. Come on though to ma office.’ The man’s accent was more Scottish than that of his wife, and his tone was friendlier. He led the way along a narrow corridor and into a room at the rear of the building with a view of a car park, bounded by a high, wire-topped wall.

McGurk pointed to the barricade, as he and Haddock took the seats they were offered. ‘Do you really need that?’ he asked.

‘It works,’ Gerulaitis replied, as he sank into the chair behind his desk. ‘We haven’t had a break-in since I had it put there.’

‘Did you have many before?’

‘A couple; we never lost anything other than a couple of DVD recorders, but it was a nuisance. The wide boys think because we own licensed premises we store booze here. Naturally, we don’t, nor do we keep cash; why should we when the banks still have night safes. Nevertheless. .’ He shook his head, presumably at the stupidity of the city’s pretty criminals. ‘You guys want a coffee?’ he offered. ‘I’ll get my wife. .’

‘We’re fine, thanks,’ said the sergeant, glad to have seen the back of the woman. ‘You’re a director of the companies, sir, yes?’

‘No, the directors are Mr and Mrs Zaliukas. I look after the figures. I trained as a bookkeeper in Lithuania, before I came over here to join Tomas.’

‘And that’s all you’ve ever done for him?’

Gerulaitis smiled again, this time with a raised eyebrow. ‘That’s all. My talents are financial, not physical. Tomas is my cousin, so I know what you’re getting at; but all I’ll say is that if he ever was involved in the sort of activities there used to be talk about, he’d have known better than to involve me.’

‘What do you do here?’ Haddock asked. ‘What does Lietuvos Leisure own?’

‘It has pubs and clubs, plus a couple of restaurants; it’s a successful, growing business. The other company’s very profitable too: Lietuvos Developments Limited, that handles our property activities.’ He opened a drawer, took out a brochure and tossed it across the desk. ‘That’s some of its portfolio. Mind you,’ he added, ‘we’re sitting on our hands, like every other developer right now, waiting for the market to get its balls back.’

The young DC picked up the document and glanced at it. ‘And the massage parlours?’ he said, quietly.

Gerulaitis shook his head. ‘They have nothing to do with me, and their acquisition wasn’t funded by either of the companies.’

‘So legally, who or what owns them?’

Suddenly he seemed a little less friendly. ‘I’m not at liberty to tell you that, Detective,’ he said.

Haddock grinned. ‘That’s Detective Constable, sir; you’re making us sound like LAPD. If we were interested, which I’m not saying we are, we could find out in no time from the property register.’

‘Then you’ll have to do that, or ask Tomas’s lawyers.’

‘Who would they be?’

‘The same as this company, I suppose, although I don’t know for sure. . Curle Anthony and Jarvis, that’s who we deal with.’ Suddenly, all humour left his face. ‘Wait a minute,’ he said. ‘The obvious thing would be for you to ask Tomas himself, not come questioning me. What’s up? Has he been arrested?’

‘No, sir.’ McGurk looked at him solemnly. ‘I can assure you that he hasn’t. When did you see him last?’

‘Yesterday; he was here till after six, apart from a break in the afternoon when he went out. After that Laima. . that’s my wife. . and me went to eat in Portofino, one of our restaurants. The manager’s just hired a new chef, and we wanted to check him out. Tomas was supposed to be coming with us, but at the last minute he told us to go on our own. I guessed he might still be upset.’

‘About what?’

‘His wife left him. She took the girls too.’

‘Was it sudden, her departure?’

‘She was supposed to be coming last night as well, when the arrangement was made.’ Gerulaitis leaned back in his chair. ‘But look, why are you asking this?’

‘We’re trying to establish his state of mind, sir.’

‘His state of mind?’

‘Yes, how did he seem yesterday?’

‘A bit edgy, after Regine did her runner. A bit moody, but that’s typical Tomas.’ He frowned. ‘A bit like the old days,’ he added quietly.

‘What do you mean, like the old days?’

‘When Tomas was younger, he was very volatile, unpredictable. As he’s got older, that’s disappeared, and he’s got a lot more controlled. But now you make me think about it, that’s how he was yesterday.’ Gerulaitis leaned forward, he frowned, and for the first time he seemed impatient. ‘But come on, gentlemen, out with it. What the fuck is this visit about?’

‘A body was found this morning, sir,’ Haddock told him, ‘right up on top of Arthur’s Seat. Male.’

The Lithuanian’s face paled, instantly. ‘Are you saying it was Tomas?’ he whispered.

‘We think it was, but identification isn’t straightforward. Cause of death appears to have been a contact wound inflicted by a sawn-off shotgun, so. .’

‘Jesus Christ.’ Gerulaitis’s mouth fell open; he covered it with his right hand.

‘Do you know if your cousin had a sawn-off?’

‘No, but it wouldn’t surprise me if he had.’ The man recovered some of his composure. ‘Was there a tattoo?’ he asked.

McGurk nodded. ‘Yes. Lithuanian national crest, back of his hand.’

‘Then it’s Tomas; nobody else would have one.’

‘Probably not, but still. .’ He paused. ‘Did he have any other distinguishing marks that you know of?’

‘There was another tattoo.’ Gerulaitis tapped his right arm, just below the shoulder. ‘Just there; his wife’s name, entwined through a heart. Was it there?’

‘I can’t tell you,’ the sergeant admitted. ‘We haven’t seen the body, or any photographs. Easily checked though. Do you know where Mrs Zale. . sorry, Mrs Zaliukas, is? We have to find her; if I’m right in assuming they’re not divorced, she’s next of kin.’

‘No, and Tomas said he didn’t know either. My wife and I are not close to them as a couple. I know Regine is French, and that she comes from a place south of Bordeaux. . I leave remembering place names to Laima; I’m lousy at it. . but not a lot more about her than that.’

‘How will she live? What will she do for money?’

‘No problem there. With dividends, she takes a hundred and fifty thousand a year out of the companies. She has her own bank account, so access to cash won’t be a problem for her.’

Haddock glanced at McGurk. ‘We should be able to trace her through her withdrawals, Sarge. Which bank is it, sir?’ he asked the Lithuanian.

‘We’re with what used to be Bank of Scotland, but Regine had her own arrangements. You’d better ask the lawyers.’

‘We’ll do that. Do you have a contact there?’

‘The man I deal with is called Willie Conn.’

‘Thanks. We’ll pay him a visit. Meantime, since you’re a blood relative, we have an unpleasant task for you. Your cousin has to be formally identified.’

Gerulaitis shuddered. ‘Maybe Laima should do it. She never liked him; it’d serve her right.’