Private Investigations

Fifty-One

‘Before we go any further, Mr Francey,’ Sammy Pye began, ‘I’m sorry for your bereavement.’

‘That’ll be fuckin’ right,’ the lobster fisherman whined. ‘You said he killed that wee lassie, and you put his picture in the paper. Nae wonder he got kilt.’

‘No,’ Haddock contradicted him. ‘We didn’t say that; even though he was driving a car with her body in the boot, we didn’t say that. If you want to be accurate, he caused her death, just after he put her mother in a coma and brought her within sight of the Pearly Gates. And for the record,’ he added, ‘when my boss says he’s sorry for your loss, he’s speaking for himself. Your son was a cowardly, murderous, psychotic scumbag and I couldn’t care less that he’s lying frazzled in the city mortuary. What I do care about is the fact that he dragged a girl he was supposed to have cared about into his crimes, and he got her killed in the process.’

He turned to the DCI. ‘Sorry, gaffer,’ he said, ‘but I can’t sit here and have this guy suggest that his son’s death is in any way our fault.’

‘No,’ Pye agreed. ‘I was only being polite, but my compassion’s used up too, all of a sudden.’

He switched on a tape recorder on the table at which they sat, and pressed a remote that activated a video camera set high on a wall in a corner of the room. He identified the three people present, for the record, then continued.

‘This is an informal interview, Mr Francey, but it is being taped; thank you for attending. We want to talk to you about a pedestrian fatality that occurred in Station Road, North Berwick, on the twenty-seventh of December last year. Do you recall hearing about it?’

Their guest frowned. ‘Was that the bloke that was knocked over on his way home frae the Nethers?’

‘That’s right. Mr Hector Mackail. Did you know him?’

Francey shook his head, then gazed up at the camera. ‘Naw,’ he murmured.

‘Can you speak up, please,’ Haddock said.

‘Naw,’ the man repeated. ‘Ah drink in the Golfer’s Rest, mostly.’

‘Did Dean ever mention the name?’ the DS asked.

‘No’ that I remember.’

‘How about his daughter, Hazel Mackail?’

The dull eyes showed a first faint flicker of interest. ‘There was a Hazel,’ he conceded. ‘She came tae the hoose a couple of times, wi’ the boy Maxwell, Mr Sullivan’s nephew.’

‘Mr Callum Sullivan?’

Francey looked at Pye. ‘Aye. Rich bloke; hasnae been in North Berwick a’ that long. We supply him wi’ lobster, Dean and me; that’s why the kids were at the hoose, ken, tae collect them. They were both new tae the toon, Dean said. He said her faither had been a businessman but that he’d lost the lot.’ The eyes narrowed. ‘And it was him that was kilt like?’

‘It was,’ the DCI confirmed. ‘So Dean knew him?’

‘He must have, Ah suppose.’ He nodded. ‘Aye, probably. One time she and the boy came for the lobster, he gie’d her a crab, a big bugger frae down behind Torness Power Station, for her folks, he said. Free, like.’ A nasty, lascivious grin flickered across his face. ‘He might have been gettin’ something in return, ken. Ah wondered about that.’

‘Where were you on the twenty-seventh of December?’ Haddock asked, suddenly, sharply.

‘Eh?’ Francey exclaimed. ‘How the fuck wid Ah ken? That’s weeks back.’

‘It was a Friday night, if that’s any help.’

‘Friday? Then Ah’d have been in the Golfer’s Rest. Darts night,’ he added.

‘Was Dean there?’

‘Dinnae ken. He might hae been; he sometimes drops in, if he’s got nothin’ else on.’

‘How do you get to the pub?’

Francey looked at the sergeant, warily. ‘Ah walk, son. Ye’ll no’ catch me out like that. Ah need ma licence; Ah’m careful.’

‘And how about Dean?’ Haddock shot back. ‘Is he careful too?’

‘Too fuckin’ right.’

‘He didn’t have a car of his own, did he?’

‘Naw.’

‘He drove your van when he needed to?’

‘Aye.’

‘Did he have his own set of keys?’

‘Naw. We’ve only got the one set.’

‘And on December twenty-seven, did he collect them from you at home or in the pub?’

‘In the pub.’ Francey paused, mouth open. ‘Hey, wait a minute!’ he exclaimed.

‘No,’ Pye said. ‘We’ll settle on that for an answer. Now the really difficult question: did he say why he wanted the keys?’

Staring at the table, the fisherman shook his head.

‘For the tape please.’

‘Naw.’

‘Louder please.’

‘Naw!’

‘Are you certain?’

‘Aye. Ah mind, noo. Ah wis on the oche and he came in. He said, “Ah need the motor.” That wis all. Ah never asked why, I just gie’d him the keys and got on wi’ the game. Ask the lads,’ he suggested. ‘They’ll mind. Thon Grant Rock, he said to me he hoped the lassie didnae mind the smell o’ fish in the back.’

‘When did he bring it back?’ the DCI asked.

‘Dinna ken. It was there next mornin’, and the keys were on the kitchen table.’

‘So you remember that?’

‘Oh aye, Ah mind,’ he replied firmly.

‘Why so vividly, if it was just another Saturday morning?’

‘Dinnae ken.’

Haddock leaned forward. ‘Was it because you went outside and saw the dent in the front offside wing?’

Francey looked away. ‘What dent?’ he muttered.

‘Wrong answer, Chic; the correct answer is “Yes, Sergeant”. We know that on the evening of December twenty-seventh, your van knocked down and killed Hector Mackail in Station Road. We can match the scrape that you never bothered to have repaired to paint on the wall where he was crushed. We can match fibres that were still embedded in that mark when our scientists examined it to the coat that Mr Mackail was wearing when he was killed. We can place your son at the scene from DNA traces left on cigarette ends found there. We can’t place you there, but if you carry on denying knowledge of the damage to your van, we might be inclined to think you knew what it had been used for.’

‘Ah never!’ Francey protested. ‘Aye okay, Ah saw the dent. Who wouldnae? Ah asked Dino how it got there, and he said he skidded on the road intae Aberlady. It’s easy done there in the winter, ask anybody.’ He paused, and resumed his study of the table, and the scratches left on it by previous visitors. ‘Anyway,’ he muttered, ‘what does it matter? Dino’s deid, and the other fella’s no’ comin’ back, so . . .’

‘It matters,’ Pye told him, ‘because it wasn’t an accident. Your son used your van to kill Mr Mackail, quite deliberately. We believe he was paid to do so, just as we believe he was paid to abduct the dead child Zena Gates, and keep her for a couple of weeks in a rented cottage. We need to know who paid him.’

‘Well, don’t look at me! This is all fuckin’ news tae me! Why would anybody want tae do all that?’

‘We’re still working on why. There may be no connection between the two crimes; that’s still conceivable. Dean may have had his own reasons for killing Mr Mackail. Did they have any sort of relationship, any contact that you know of?’

‘No,’ Francey replied. ‘Dean didnae even know the man.’

‘How can you be so sure?’

‘The time the lassie and the boy Maxwell came for the lobster and he gie’d her the crab, he said tae her when she was leaving, “Tell your faither if he wants a part-time job he can come out on the boat wi’ us.” The lassie just laughed. I asked Dino what that was a’ aboot, and he said her faither had been in the Navy. Then Ah asked him, “Have ye met him, like?” and he said, “Naw never, but Hazel telt me.” That’s how Ah can be sure, pal.’

‘We can check that with Mrs Mackail and her daughter,’ Haddock warned.

‘Check all yis fuckin’ like. It’s the truth Ah’m tellin’ yis.’ He pushed his chair back. ‘Can Ah go now? Ah’ve had enough of this shite.’

‘Sure,’ the DS replied. ‘You can go. You’ve always been here voluntarily.’

‘And can Ah get ma van back?’

‘That’s different. Your van has a special status; it’s a murder weapon in an open investigation, and we’ll need to keep it until it’s closed.’

‘What am Ah going tae do for ma work?’ Francey protested.

Pye shrugged. ‘The same as you’d do if it broke down: buy or hire another. This interview is over,’ he said, switching off the recorder and the video.

‘Bastards,’ the fisherman muttered.

‘That may be,’ the DCI retorted, ‘but it has nothing to do with us holding on to your van.’

‘And ma boy? When dae Ah get him back?’

‘I’m afraid that’s up to the fiscal’s office, not us. But it won’t be before we’ve arrested the person who shot him.’

‘Then get a fuckin’ move on.’ He looked at the DCI, and the faintest of grins touched the corner of his mouth. ‘Dae ye think Ah’ll get a discount on the cremation?’