into its network, either by direct acquisition or through takeover by subsidiary companies. Almost invariably, when Eden set his acquisitive eyes on a company, the deal was done. I traced them all through to completion. There was only one failure, but that worked out in the end.’
I thought I detected a touch of disapproval in her tone and said as much.
‘It’s true. It’s his one blemish as far as I can see. A company called Mackail Extrusions was . . .’
I held up a hand. ‘Stop! Repeat that name, please.’
‘Mackail Extrusions. Why?’
‘I heard that surname no more than an hour ago, from my daughter,’ I told her. ‘But there might be no connection. Go on.’
‘Mackail Extrusions,’ she said, for a third time, ‘was a supplier to Destry, the group’s oddly named double-glazing company. It was a perfect fit and Eden wanted to bring it into the group, but its owner, a man named Hector Mackail, wouldn’t sell. Like the sign says in pubs, a refusal often offends, and in this case, somebody was pissed off. Since none of Eden’s managers ever takes a major policy decision without clearance, it was assumed it was him. Mackail’s cash flow was suffering badly in the recession and Destry put the squeeze on by delaying payment. Mackail went bust and Destry bought the assets.’
‘Did you speak to Mackail?’ I asked.
‘I’d have needed a medium,’ she replied. ‘He was killed in a road accident a couple of months ago.’
‘Are you sure about all this?’ I asked.
She nodded. ‘I verified it with a friend of mine, a crazy business journo called Macy. Funny, she said I was the second person to have asked about Mackail this week.’
‘Very funny indeed,’ I agreed. ‘Did she say who the other was?’
‘She did. It was one of your old team, an old flame of hers called Haddock. Sounds fishy, if you ask me.’
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