Private Investigations

Forty-Three

‘That’s quite correct,’ DC William Dickson declared. ‘Callum Sullivan bought Lacey’s bar nine years ago; it was called the Peregrine then. His ex-wife’s owned fifty per cent of the place since the divorce, and she’s the licensee of record. It’s vested in a limited company called CJ Inns that owns a total of four pubs in the city.

‘The fact is,’ the DC continued, ‘he’s a very wealthy man; he sold his company, CS Compressors, for eight million. Since then all he’s done is play around with his classic cars, but that’s profitable too. His company accounts showed a taxable profit of a hundred and seventeen thousand pounds in his first year’s trading. He has no debt, he’s a member of the Renaissance and North Berwick golf clubs, and of the New Club in Princes Street.

‘He’s been single since his divorce, with no particular attachments. Everybody likes the guy, including his former brother-in-law, Sergeant Harris. I spoke to him and he’s full of praise for the way that Callum’s looking after his son.

‘Most important of all, I can find absolutely nothing to connect him with Grete Regal. Nothing, period. That’s it, sir, Sarge.’

‘Who bought the company?’ Haddock asked.

‘It’s now a subsidiary of Higgins Holdings,’ the DC replied. ‘That’s the holding company for Eden Higgins, the guy who used to be a furniture tycoon and now does even better as a venture capitalist.’

‘Never heard of him,’ the DS admitted. ‘I don’t read the business press.’

Pye shifted in his chair. ‘Ever heard of Alison Higgins?’

‘Yeah. She was a detective super, wasn’t she? Killed on the job?’

‘That’s right; she was also Eden Higgins’ sister. And Bob Skinner’s . . .’ His voice tailed off.

‘What?’ his colleague asked.

‘Never mind. It was fifteen years ago, and more. Ancient history now.’

‘Okay, so back to the present,’ Haddock declared. ‘If we’re all agreed that Callum Sullivan’s a paragon, now can we have a look at Hector Mackail?’

‘Okay,’ Pye laughed. ‘You win.’