Dead And Buried

Thirty-one

‘How long did you work for Starr, Mr Smith?’ asked Ray Wilding. ‘Ten years, did you say? And in all that time you saw nothing happening there that wasn’t related to the bookmaking business. Is that what you’re saying?’

‘Aye,’ Big Ming replied, ‘that’s whit Ah’m telling yis.’

‘So is Eddie Charnwood.’

‘So why do yis believe him and no’ me?’

‘I’m not saying that’s the case, but you worked longer hours than Mr Charnwood. He had keys, but so have you. In your earlier statement you told us that you opened the shop in the morning to pin up the day’s race cards, and you locked up at night after you cleaned up.’

‘Most nights. Sometimes Gary wid stay on late and Ah’d tidy up the next morning.’

‘So you’re changing your statement?’ Mackenzie snapped.

‘Ah’m telling yis what happened.’

‘And how often did it happen? How often did Mr Starr let you go early?’

‘Ah don’t know, maybe once or twice a month.’

‘Every two weeks or every four weeks? That’s quite a significant difference. Come on, Mr Smith, stretch your big brain, how often was it?’

The witness glared across the interview-room table at the chief inspector. ‘All right, it was every other week, sometimes more than that.’

‘Very good; that’s us gone from once a month to once a week. Listen, chum, you’ll be out of here a lot sooner if you give us precise answers, not guesses and approximations.’

Wilding picked up a sheet of paper from the table. ‘You’re a man of hidden depths, James, aren’t you?’

‘Ah dinna ken whit yis mean.’

‘When you were interviewed by my colleague DS Pye, after the incident in the shop on Friday, you came out with something about Pamplona bulls. He told me you almost took his breath away. When the hell did you hear about them?’

Big Ming shifted in his chair, as if something sharp had dug into him. ‘Ah dinna ken,’ he mumbled.

‘Look at me,’ said Wilding. He waited until the man caught his gaze. ‘You, with your overpowering intellect, tell me that you don’t know when you first heard of the Pamplona bull run, and you expect me to believe you. As my colleague said, don’t piss us about. The rules here are simple: we ask questions, you give us honest answers. Come on, now, try again: how did you first hear of the Pamplona bull run?’

‘Ah’ve seen it,’ Big Ming replied, grudgingly, yet with a touch of pride. ‘Ah’ve been there.’

‘Do you go to Spain often?’

‘Who, me?’

‘There you go again. Answers only, please.’

‘Naw,’ Smith mumbled. ‘Ah’ve only been there a couple o’ times.’

‘How many?’

‘Two or three.’

‘Which?’

‘Three.’

‘And which parts of Spain did you visit? Remember,’ Wilding added, ‘we can check.’

Big Ming swallowed the enormous lie, hook, line and sinker. ‘Pamplona,’ he murmured, ‘just Pamplona.’

‘When?’

‘The last three years, in July, when they wis runnin’ the bulls.’

‘Bullshit!’ Mackenzie exclaimed.

‘Naw, it’s no’,’ the witness protested. ‘It’s true.’

‘And why, with respect,’ asked Wilding, ‘would a Leither like you develop a sudden love for Fiesta de San Fermín and for the capital of Navarre? It’s not your usual holiday. It’s hardly the Costa Brava, Mr Smith, is it?’

‘It’s good there.’

‘Maybe, but it’s about a hundred kilometres away from the nearest beach, and I’ll bet you can’t get Belhaven Best. Why did you go there?’

Big Ming sighed: the extravagant gesture seemed to make his body odour even more intense. ‘Ah went because Gary asked me tae,’ he said wearily.

‘Mr Starr asked you to go there,’ Wilding repeated.

‘Aye.’

‘Why?’

‘He never said.’

‘Come on, Mr Smith. We’ve been doing so well up to now.’

‘He jist asked me to go, honest.’

‘How?’

‘Ah told yis, Ah dinna ken how.’

‘No, Mr Smith, that’s “how” as in by what means, not “how” as in why.’

‘He lent me his car.’

‘He did what? That was bloody generous of him, wasn’t it?’

‘Ah suppose it wis: Ah never thought of it that way, but.’

‘What kind of car was it?’

‘A Mercedes: one o’ they wee ones. It wis a diesel: went for ever on a tankful.’

‘How did you get to Spain?’

‘Ah drove it down tae Portsmouth and got the ferry tae Bilbao.’

‘Just you? Nobody else?’

Big Ming gave the detective a look that spoke for itself: he had nobody else.

‘When you got to Pamplona, what did you do?’

‘Ah checked intae a hotel and parked the car in a garage.’

‘You mean a covered park?’

‘Naw, it was a proper garage. Gary telt me tae go there; he said Ah could leave the car there, and pick it up when Ah wis ready tae go back.’

‘How long did you stay there?’

‘Four days, then Ah got the ferry back.’

‘Who did you meet when you were there?’

‘Naebody.’

‘Where did you stay?’

‘In a hotel. It was called the Three Kings: that isnae its Spanish name, like, but that’s whit it means in English.’

‘Los Tres Reyes,’ Wilding murmured.

‘Aye, that wis it. It wis a barry hotel like.’

‘A what?’ asked Mackenzie.’

‘Barry means “good” in Edinburgh-speak, sir,’ the sergeant explained.

‘Aye, good,’ Big Ming concurred. ‘Fuck knows whit it cost: Gary paid for it wi’ his card, and he gi’ed me money for petrol an’ ma drink.’

‘But you met nobody when you stayed there?’ Wilding asked again.

‘Naebody.’

‘Didn’t the whole arrangement strike you as odd? A free trip to Spain three years on the trot?’

‘Gary said it was a bonus, like; tax-free, like.’ His face fell as a thought struck him. ‘Yis’ll no’ tell the Inland Revenue, will yis?’

‘If I find out that you’ve been making all this up, Mr Smith, the Inland Revenue is going to be the least of your worries. If I find out that you’ve missed out the smallest detail, likewise. What was the name of the garage?’

‘Ah cannae remember. It was in a place called Carrer. . that’s whit they ca’ streets there. . Ortiz, that’s all Ah ken.’

‘What happened when you dropped the car off?’

‘Nothin’. Ah just said tae the bloke there that Ah wis frae Edinburgh, and he took the keys aff me. When Ah went back, he gave me them back; Ah never had tae pay nothin’, like.’

‘Did you notice anything about the car when you picked it up?’

Big Ming looked puzzled. ‘Naw. Naebody had been usin’ it if that’s whit yis mean. Ah’d have kent frae the petrol tank. Naebody had been smokin’ in it either, and a’ thae Spanish folk smoke. Gary would have gone mental if any cunt hid been smokin’ in his motor.’

Wilding glanced sideways at Mackenzie. ‘A minute outside, sir.’

‘Yes. I think so. We’ll be back in a minute, Mr Smith.’ The two detectives rose and left the room. ‘That was a very nice kite, Ray,’ said the chief inspector, as the door closed. There was more than a trace of sarcasm in his voice. ‘It would have been nice to know in advance that you were going to fly it, though. We’re a team and we should operate that way. I don’t like surprises from my own side of the table in mid-interview.’

‘I’m sorry you feel that way, boss. I didn’t pre-plan anything: the idea just came to me as we spoke. I had no idea where it was going to take us.’

‘So what are you thinking?’

‘That we should get hold of Starr’s car and take it apart: see what traces we find in it.’

‘Do you think Big Ming’s as dumb as he’s letting on?’

‘I couldn’t say, sir, but if he was doing what we think he was, he’s hardly going to come right out and tell us about it, is he?’

‘He didn’t strike me as that quick on his feet, I admit. Can you remember if there’s a garage at Starr’s house?’

‘Yes, there is. The door opens on to the lane behind.’

‘Then let’s see if the car’s there: if it is we’ll have it taken up to the park behind Fettes.’

‘I’ll alert DI Dorward. His people will have to strip it.’

‘They’ll need help: I’ll phone the local Mercedes dealership and see if they’ll lend us a mechanic. We’ll need a specialist for this job.’

‘You’re sure about this? I don’t want to handle the flak on my own if we spend all this time and money and the thing comes up clean.’

Mackenzie’s eyes narrowed. ‘Don’t you trust me, Wilding?’ he asked.

‘It’s an old principle, sir, called covering my arse.’

‘Thanks for the vote of confidence! Don’t worry, I’ll sign off on it. Gary Starr wasn’t the sort of man to hand out free holidays, least of all in his car. Besides, I’ve got my own reasons for following this through. Ray, when I was on the Drugs Squad I reckoned I knew all the sources and all the suppliers, except one. I’ve never been able to pin him down, until now.’

‘Should we inform the Drugs Squad, and the SDEA for that matter?’

‘No, we’ll run with it for now. I’m not letting them in on it until I have to.’

‘Are you not going to tell Mr McIlhenney?’

‘No, I’m fucking not! Are you suggesting I don’t have authority here?’

‘No, sir, it’s your shout.’

‘Thank you for that,’ said the chief inspector, sarcastically. ‘Now, before we go up to Starr’s place, make that call to Dorward. I’m going back in to see Smith.’

Mackenzie stepped back into the interview room with a grin on his face. Big Ming saw it and looked even more nervous. ‘Did you really never ask any questions about these free holidays, Mr Smith?’

The man shifted in his seat once more, sending another stale blast across the table. ‘Listen, mister, you didnae know Gary. He was a’ right, but he didnae like being asked questions. If Ah had, then Eddie Charnwood would have got the freebies.’

‘I doubt that, Mr Smith: Mr Charnwood would certainly have asked what it was all about.’ To his surprise, Mackenzie felt a sudden wave of sympathy for the hapless witness before him. ‘Ming,’ he found himself saying, ‘I’ve got some bad news for you. Starr had another business interest apart from bookmaking. He was a cocaine dealer, and it looks as if he set you up to import the stuff for him.’

The last vestige of colour drained from the big man’s face. ‘Naw,’ he whimpered.

‘I’m afraid so: we still have some checks to do, and we’ll need to keep you here while we make them. If it’s confirmed, you’ll be asked to remember every last detail of those trips to Spain, and to help us identify everyone you spoke to or saw at that garage. It’ll be your way out of the situation. Do you understand me?’

The man nodded his greasy head. ‘Aye.’

‘Good man.’ Mackenzie rose to leave, then stopped. ‘You know, there’s one thing about all this that still puzzles me. We know that Starr lied about the incident in the shop on Friday. There was no attempted armed robbery: he mutilated that lad, deliberately. So why the hell did he call the police afterwards?’

‘He didnae,’ Big Ming muttered.

The detective stared at him. ‘What did you say?’

‘It wis me that got the polis. When Ah went in the shop, after the boy bumped intae me, and saw that finger lyin’ on the counter, Ah got such a fricht Ah ran back oot again. Ah saw a panda car turning intae Evesham Street, and Ah flagged it doon. Gary wisnae pleased: Ah could hear him in the shop cryin’, “What the fuck are ye daein’?” but it wis too late by then.’ He stopped and shook his head. ‘An’ ye ken whit? Ah still ken that boy frae somewhere.’

‘In that case,’ said Mackenzie, ‘I think we should put your time with us to good use, by showing you some photographs. Maybe you’ll spot him again.’