He told me her husband’s in jail. When he talked about him, his eyes were telling me that if the guy ever tries to come back, wee Dan’ll kill him.’
‘Indeed? Are you saying they’re . . . ?’
‘Hell no! That’s the sadness of it. On the surface he acts like he’s her uncle, but underneath . . .’
‘Then I hope it stays that way. They’re an effective CID team, obviously, but they’d probably make a lousy couple.’ He unsnapped his seat belt as Haddock brought his car to a halt outside the building that was their destination.
The detectives stepped out, buttoning their coats against the bitter east wind as they surveyed their surroundings. The headquarters and factory of Destry PLC were located together in a long white building, by far the largest in an industrial estate in what once had been the New Town of Glenrothes, until it was stripped of that status by a Westminster government.
‘One good thing about being part of ScotServe,’ Pye remarked as they headed for the visitors’ entrance, ‘is that we don’t have to tell our colleagues in Fife that we’re coming on to their patch.’
‘Yes,’ Haddock agreed. ‘Now name another.’
Double doors opened automatically, admitting them to a reception area, with a waiting area on the right and an enclosed booth on the left, where a young woman sat at a desk with a switchboard. She wore a headset and was speaking into its microphone as the newcomers approached. ‘Just one moment, caller,’ they heard her say, ‘and I’ll put you through.’
She flipped a switch, then rose. ‘Yes, gentlemen?’ She was tall, dressed in a black suit with a tight–fitting skirt that stopped just below the knee, and a man’s white shirt underneath, the first two buttons undone to reveal a hint of cleavage. A badge on her lapel introduced her as Marcella Mega. The cut of her dark hair made Haddock think of Cheeky.
‘We have an appointment with Mrs Stewart,’ Pye began.
The receptionist glanced at a wall clock. ‘Yes. You’ll be her ten thirty. If I could see your credentials?’ Her accent was not local; Edinburgh, private schooling, the DCI guessed.
The officers displayed their crested warrant cards; she leaned over the divider to inspect them.
‘Thank you, detectives,’ she said. ‘If you’ll take a seat; Mrs Stewart’s running a little late.’
‘No worries,’ Pye replied. ‘We’ll stand, if you don’t mind. We’ve been sitting all the way from Edinburgh. You worked here long, Ms Mega?’ he asked, casually.
‘Six months. I’m just completing the integration process.’
‘What’s that?’
‘Hold on.’ She stepped back to the board, flipped another switch, and announced their arrival to someone called Linda, then rejoined them. ‘All new employees have to spend time in each department before we’re finally assigned, regardless of our skills. I have a First in Chemical Engineering, but when I started here Mrs Stewart stuck a brush in my hand and had me sweeping the factory floor for a month.’
‘Not in that suit, I’ll bet,’ Haddock remarked.
‘Nor these shoes,’ she laughed, raising a foot to display heels that accentuated her height.
‘Is all your management located here?’ Pye asked.
‘Our executive management, yes; Mrs Stewart is the chief executive officer, as I imagine you know. She runs the place. We have a parent company, but that’s based in Edinburgh.’
‘Yes, we know that too. Do you see much of Mr Higgins here?’
‘I’ve never seen him. Rory visits once a month, and once every three months Mrs Stewart and Mr Orchard, the production director, go to a board meeting in head office.’
‘Rory?’
She looked at Haddock. ‘Mr Higgins Junior.’
‘He’s informal, is he?’ the DS asked, lightly.
‘Not with everyone,’ she replied. ‘He and I have a little history, away from business. We’ve been on a couple of dates.’
A very small frown suggested that there might be no more to come.
‘Didn’t you like the movie?’ Haddock ventured.
‘It shows, does it?’ she said. ‘The first time, I did. Second time, I didn’t like where he took me: a seedy little pole-dancing bar at the top of Leith Walk. We met the owner, Callum, a business friend of his, Rory said. He may have been, but they both spent a little too much time eyeing up one of the dancers. I went to the ladies, then left by the side door. We haven’t spoken since.’
‘Did you . . .’ Pye began, but before he could ask whether there had been a third man present, a tall, lean, brooding guy, a door burst open and a stout middle-aged woman bustled into