Wearing Purple

Chapter 13

I nudged Jan as we stood in the cloakroom queue. ‘D’you think Dylan really fancies Susie, or is it just a career move?’ I whispered in her ear. The Detective Inspector and the Lady Provost stood five couples ahead of us, he with his arm around her shoulders.

‘He has to be on the level,’ she murmured. ‘Susie’d have seen through him in two minutes if he was on the make. And if it was a matter of her being into coppers, she could have someone higher up the tree than Mike.

‘Anyway,’ she went on, ‘I quite like him. He may be a poser, but he’s a friendly chap, and there’s no harm in him.’

I grunted at that one, as old memories came back. ‘There is if he thinks he can fit you up for something.’ As I spoke, he and Susie handed in their coats and moved on towards the main hall of the Gallery where the reception was being held.

The Burrell Collection is the treasure of which the City of Glasgow is most proud. . although for the life of me I cannot see why. It was left to the people donkey’s years ago by one of its millionaires, as a sort of personal memorial. However the will wasn’t straightforward. Sir William Burrell specified that his valuables should be put on show together, in a Gallery built by the council with money bequeathed for the purpose.

Since City Fathers tend to be childish on the whole, it took them a few decades to decide on a site and a design, by which time the bequest had dwindled in value and the public purse had to make up the shortfall. But as soon as it was up and opened, on a green field site in the Pollok Estate, the Burrell Collection became the showpiece that its founder had intended. For a brief period it was even trumpeted as the most-visited tourist site in Scotland, until someone realised that the smoking ban within the building meant that every time visitors nipped out for a fag they were counted as new entrants.

In our time in Glasgow, Jan and I had never visited the Burrell Gallery before. As I looked up at the great vaulted glass ceiling and took in the spacious design, I realised why Jack Gantry liked it as a venue.

The Lord Provost had been as good as his word. We had been picked up at the appointed time by a civic limo which we found we were sharing with the Convener of the Transport Committee and his wife. He was a pleasant, earnest, youngish man, with big glasses and a slightly awkward air, which was explained when he told us that he always felt guilty when using the Council Daimler rather than a bus. Jan and I, and the Convener’s wife, said nothing. We were enjoying the ride.

Our travelling companions chummed us across to the bar. The event was being sponsored by a drinks company; I guessed that was why there were spirits available as well as the usual wine.

‘What do you think of the new People’s Palace then, folks?’ There was a suppressed giggle in the woman’s voice which came from behind me as I handed Jan her gin and tonic and picked up my own. Susie Gantry’s red hair still had its electric frizz, but she seemed more relaxed than on our first meeting. I wondered whether behind her confident facade lived someone who was inherently shy with strangers.

‘It’s. . er, very impressive,’ I offered.

‘Bloody should be,’ she chortled. ‘It took about forty years to build.’

‘Not a Gantry job, then,’ offered Mike Dylan, by her side.

She frowned at him. ‘Cheeky so-and-so. Our slogan is that quality deserves time, my dear, but we’re not that deliberate.’

‘What’s so great about the collection?’ Jan asked.

‘Judge for yourself,’ Susie responded. ‘Let’s take a walk round.’

I could tell that she enjoyed her Lady Provost role as she led us around the Gallery. Truth be told, I didn’t think much of the exhibits, apart from a couple of pictures and some Roman masonry which appeared to have been looted from the South of France. But the crowd was something else. It was like being on a television or movie set as we moved among the faces.

Everybody who was anybody in a Scottish showbiz context — and quite a few UK celebrities too — seemed to be there, and Susie Gantry seemed to know them all. ‘Hello, Elaine,’ she called out to one face. ‘How’re you doing, Ally?’ to another. ‘Nice to see you, Robbie,’ to a third. And always she was acknowledged warmly. The beautiful people of Glasgow seemed pleased to be hailed by Jack Gantry’s daughter.

Our circular tour brought us back — via the bar, of course — to a small dais set up in front of the enormous Warwick vase. ‘What do you think?’ Susie asked.

If diplomacy, timing and a sense of decorum are essentials for higher rank in the police service, as they are, DI Dylan can forget any notion of ever wearing a Chief Constable’s epaulettes.

‘I seem to remember,’ he burst out, wearing a huge grin, ‘that when this place opened, some Edinburgh councillor got himself on the Glaswegian death list by calling it Steptoe’s yard.’ He looked around, still beaming expansively. ‘I’d say he got it right.’

Unfortunately for Mike, the only direction in which he hadn’t looked was immediately behind him, where Jack Gantry was standing.

‘Indeed, Inspector,’ the Lord Provost grated. ‘I wasn’t aware that you were an expert in antiquities. In fact from what my daughter’s been saying, I wasn’t aware that you were an expert in anything.’

Dylan turned three different colours in as many seconds. ‘Just a joke, sir,’ he offered, lamely, his grin turning cheesy.

‘No it wasn’t, son. It was an insult. An old insult, long buried, but dug up again.’ Jack Gantry’s voice dropped to a whisper, but it was probably the most menacing whisper I had ever heard. ‘There’s enough damned comedians here tonight, Michael. Okay?’

‘I’m sorry, sir. .’ The detective’s apology faded away as the Lord Provost turned on his heel and stalked off.

He looked down at Susie. ‘Thanks for your support,’ he moaned.

The wee firebrand looked up at him angrily. For a moment I thought she was going to explode too. ‘Don’t mention it,’ she snapped. ‘I thought you knew by now that my dad loves this city more than anything. . even me.’

‘Okay, but-’

She cut him off. ‘But nothing. He’s Glasgow’s First Citizen in every respect. Daft he may be, but it’s the cultural capital of his universe. My dad may be a hard man from the Gorbals, but he’s no Philistine. This city’s art galleries, museums, theatres, concert halls are his pride and joy. He loves opera, the theatre and music. He’s an art collector. When I take you to his house on Saturday, you’ll see half a million quid’s worth of pictures hanging on his walls.

‘As far as this place is concerned, he believes that Glasgow has done a great job for the nation in displaying the Burrell Collection; and by Glasgow he means the Council. When you mock this, you’re mocking him.’

I thought it was time to lighten things up a bit. ‘Eh Susie,’ I ventured. ‘Tell me what football team he supports, so I don’t put my foot in it.’

She was still glaring as she looked round at me, until she caught my eye, and began to laugh. ‘I’m sorry, people,’ she said. ‘It’s not fair to involve you in our wee domestic.’ She glanced up at Mike once more. ‘You know Dylan, I must love you or something. It’s the only reason I can think of for the fact that you’re still standing.’ He looked at her gratefully, like a big soft dog that’s just been given a biscuit.

‘As for football, Oz,’ Susie continued. ‘You’re on safe ground there. The Lord Provost is an atheist in that respect. In private he actually believes that football’s harmful to Glasgow’s good name.’

‘Judging by what I’ve seen of it lately,’ I told her, ‘I think he’s right.’

She laughed again, then took my wife by the arm. ‘How’s things going?’ she asked quietly. ‘I’m sorry I wasn’t in the office this afternoon. I was looking forward to catching up with you.’

‘I’m getting through it,’ Jan replied. ‘But it’s not easy. The construction and development side of the group is okay, that’s quite certain. It’s very profitable. The expected return on investment from the housing portfolio is very clearly defined too, and you’re achieving it.

‘The retail arm, the pubs and so on, that’s not so certain. I’m having to analyse their performance one by one. It’s relatively easy to bleed cash out of businesses like that, and it can be very hard to detect too. Once I’ve looked at individual profitability, I’ll be able to see which managers are operating at one hundred per cent efficiency, and whether any are out of line.’

‘What if they are?’

‘If it’s incompetence, that could show up easily. If not, that will be more difficult to nail down.’

‘How do we go about it?’ Susie paused. ‘There are so many potential fiddles in the pub trade.’

‘I know, but the most common is the one where the staff sell their own drink across the bar, in among the legitimate sales, but don’t ring it up, so that it doesn’t go through stock control. If we think that could be happening, we need to set traps.’

‘Such as?’

‘Put people in among the punters to watch and spot it. That’s one way. Have spot raids by stock control teams to check the bar codes of all products on display for sale. That’s another.’ Jan smiled, grimly. ‘Sack everyone on the staff. That’s a third.’

‘And maybe the easiest,’ Susie retorted.

‘Maybe, but I don’t think your dad would like it if someone took the group to a tribunal for unfair dismissal. No, if the pub chain is underperforming overall, there’s a fourth option.’

‘What’s that?’

‘Call in all the managers, and give them profit targets to be hit on a quarterly or six-monthly basis. That way, if some of them are on the fiddle, they’ll make damn sure that the group gets its profit before they start taking theirs.’

God, she’s clever, I thought, as she looked at Susie Gantry. ‘In my experience,’ she said, ‘if the staff want to skim a bit for themselves off a retail business — especially a busy pub — it’s bloody difficult to prevent it. All you can do is set a tolerable limit and make sure they stay within it.’

‘You could call us in,’ Dylan suggested, tentatively.

Both women turned and stared at him in disbelief. ‘What would happen to the CID if it was asked to investigate every potential pub fiddle in Glasgow?’ Jan asked him. ‘You don’t have the manpower to investigate small-scale fraud, Mike, and you know it. Your specialists concentrate on the big stuff, and the rest gets left to sort itself out.’

He nodded his head, in reluctant agreement. ‘Yes, I suppose you’re right.’ He grinned at me. ‘Hang in there, Oz,’ he said. ‘There could be some business here for you too.’

‘And what would that be, Mike?’ asked Jack Gantry, jovially, his good temper restored as he stepped past the policeman and up on to the dais to address the City’s guests.

‘Nothing you’d approve of, I doubt, sir,’ replied Dylan. ‘We’re discussing privatisation: in the field of criminal investigation.’

Gantry’s chain gleamed as the light caught it. ‘Don’t sell me short, son. I’m one of the new breed. I’ll privatise anything as long as it’s efficient. . and profitable.’

He drew himself up and beamed at the gathering of celebrities, a star himself in their firmament.