Tell me something first. How do you guys relate to the taxman?’
‘HMRC handles its own investigations,’ Pye replied. ‘We don’t report everything we hear to them.’
‘Then don’t report this, and switch off the recorder.’
‘Okay.’ He pressed the ‘stop’ switch.
‘Remember the car I told you about, the Bristol?’
‘Yes.’
‘The twelve grand was for that. I bought it from a classified ad in the local paper. It was only described as a classic car, no make specified, and it was price on application. The seller wanted fifteen K, but he would only do a deal off the books. He said he needed money but he didn’t want his wife to know how much the thing was worth. She’d always thought it was an old junker, so he was going to tell her he got two grand for it and pocket the difference.’
‘Husband of the year, but go on.’
‘Normally,’ Sullivan continued, ‘I wouldn’t do that sort of deal, but the car was worth twenty-five, with a minimum of touching up. So I beat him down to twelve and we shook on it.’
‘As a matter of interest,’ Haddock asked, ‘what’s Mr King paying for it?’
‘Twenty-eight.’
‘Jeez!’ the DS whistled. ‘Gaffer, are you sure that’s not criminal?’
‘Not unless there’s misrepresentation,’ Pye laughed. ‘If someone wants to pay that much for a forty-year-old car, good luck to all parties involved.’
‘That’s right,’ the dealer declared. ‘I’ve had people pay upwards of ten grand for a Mark One Escort, ten times the original costs.’
‘Not this fella,’ the DCI said, tapping his chest. He frowned at Sullivan. ‘You do realise we’ll need to confirm your story with the original seller of the car?’
The dealer shrugged. ‘Que sera, sera. His name’s Paul Cockburn and he lives in Longniddry. If you can do it when his wife’s out you’ll be doing him a favour.’
‘We’ll try. Meantime, if you put that sixteen grand profit through your company accounts you’ll be doing yourself a favour. I’m not saying we’d go running to HMRC, but it’s never a good idea to give guys like us a club to hit you with.’
Sullivan winced. ‘I’ll bear that in mind. Can I go now?’
‘Yes,’ Pye said, ‘we’re done. We’ll arrange a lift back for you.’
‘That’s okay. I’ll hang around town till lunchtime and visit Kayleigh and her mum.’ He sighed as he stood. ‘It’s too bad about Anna; I’m struggling to get my head round that. She was a really nice kid; friendly too. If only I hadn’t let Francey come to that party, they’d never have met. She might even have been with me today.’
‘My granny used to say,’ Haddock murmured, with a wistful smile, ‘“If wishes were horses, we’d all get a hurl.” Maybe she would have been, but I’m not sure how you’d have handled your girlfriend being a pole-dancer, Mr Sullivan.’
The man stared back at him. ‘Why would it bother me? I own Lacey’s. How do you think Anna got the job?’
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?’