their own death warrants,’ he muttered.
Andy spun round. ‘What do you mean by that, sir ?’
‘Well, when folk are trying to cope without power for three days a week and piles of rubbish are lying around the streets, twitching with rats, public opinion is hardly going to be sympathetic to yet more industrial action. They actually made it easier for the government to shut those shipyards down.’
Dani could see that Andy’s face had reddened with anger.
‘Jimmy Reid’s ‘work-ins’ did the opposite of that. His union men made sure they completed orders and kept tight discipline. The public were totally on side. Even Heath’s government in ‘72 had to give in eventually and keep the Govan yards open.’ The DS had his fists clenched down by his sides.
‘Only for a short while. They were simply delaying the inevitable.’ Phil petulantly kicked the pointed toe of his shiny shoe against a crack in the concrete floor. ‘My parents recall that era very well. It was a difficult time for most hard-working Scots. My old grannie nearly froze to death in her bed one night, when there was no electricity for the heaters.’
Dani held up a hand. ‘I don’t quite see where this discussion is going to get us. We’re here to find out what happened to Mr MacRae, not recreate the class conflicts of the seventies.’
‘Tony’s father-in-law was Alec Duff, one of the most prominent union men of his generation. Perhaps that had something to do with the foreman’s death?’
Dani shook her head. ‘I don’t think so Andy, the power of the unions is long gone in this profession. It doesn’t sound like Tony was a rabble-rouser. He was desperate to fulfil this order and keep his job.’
One of the techs clambered down from the platform and approached the officers. ‘We can see where the scaffolding had become unsafe, Ma’am. A metal clip had snapped right in two, but it’s been fixed recently. One of the workers showed us where a new clip had been secured over the broken piece. He said it was done yesterday.’
‘So, our friend Raymond Hemingway has been tampering with the scene,’ Andy added with venom.
Dani shot a glance at Phil, to see how he would react to this. The DI’s expression remained impassive. She turned back to address the technician. ‘Finish up with your evidence gathering, will you, Todd? Then we can get back to Pitt Street and send any samples to the lab. We’ll let the management at Hemingways squirm for a week or so longer whilst we await the results. Then I think we’ve done all we possibly can for poor Mrs MacRae.’
*
Dani had been keeping a close eye on Phil all day but couldn’t fault his actions. Everything was done by the book, as it always was with the DI. He certainly was the last person she would ever suspect of being corrupt. She and Andy had known the man for nearly fifteen years. He wasn’t a working class warrior like Calder but Phil had his principles nonetheless.
With James out of the flat, Dani filled her evening reading an online biography of Alexander Duff, Nancy MacRae’s father, on her laptop.
Duff had been born on the Southside of Glasgow during the Great Depression of the 1930s. His father had served in the navy during the Second World War and was a welder by trade. Alec followed in his father’s profession and worked for several of the large shipbuilding firms in the sixties before becoming a shop steward in the Marine Workers, Shipbuilders and Designers Union. Duff was known for his toughness and staunch principles, earning him the role of union secretary in ’72. This was the position Alec had held until his
Andy spun round. ‘What do you mean by that, sir ?’
‘Well, when folk are trying to cope without power for three days a week and piles of rubbish are lying around the streets, twitching with rats, public opinion is hardly going to be sympathetic to yet more industrial action. They actually made it easier for the government to shut those shipyards down.’
Dani could see that Andy’s face had reddened with anger.
‘Jimmy Reid’s ‘work-ins’ did the opposite of that. His union men made sure they completed orders and kept tight discipline. The public were totally on side. Even Heath’s government in ‘72 had to give in eventually and keep the Govan yards open.’ The DS had his fists clenched down by his sides.
‘Only for a short while. They were simply delaying the inevitable.’ Phil petulantly kicked the pointed toe of his shiny shoe against a crack in the concrete floor. ‘My parents recall that era very well. It was a difficult time for most hard-working Scots. My old grannie nearly froze to death in her bed one night, when there was no electricity for the heaters.’
Dani held up a hand. ‘I don’t quite see where this discussion is going to get us. We’re here to find out what happened to Mr MacRae, not recreate the class conflicts of the seventies.’
‘Tony’s father-in-law was Alec Duff, one of the most prominent union men of his generation. Perhaps that had something to do with the foreman’s death?’
Dani shook her head. ‘I don’t think so Andy, the power of the unions is long gone in this profession. It doesn’t sound like Tony was a rabble-rouser. He was desperate to fulfil this order and keep his job.’
One of the techs clambered down from the platform and approached the officers. ‘We can see where the scaffolding had become unsafe, Ma’am. A metal clip had snapped right in two, but it’s been fixed recently. One of the workers showed us where a new clip had been secured over the broken piece. He said it was done yesterday.’
‘So, our friend Raymond Hemingway has been tampering with the scene,’ Andy added with venom.
Dani shot a glance at Phil, to see how he would react to this. The DI’s expression remained impassive. She turned back to address the technician. ‘Finish up with your evidence gathering, will you, Todd? Then we can get back to Pitt Street and send any samples to the lab. We’ll let the management at Hemingways squirm for a week or so longer whilst we await the results. Then I think we’ve done all we possibly can for poor Mrs MacRae.’
*
Dani had been keeping a close eye on Phil all day but couldn’t fault his actions. Everything was done by the book, as it always was with the DI. He certainly was the last person she would ever suspect of being corrupt. She and Andy had known the man for nearly fifteen years. He wasn’t a working class warrior like Calder but Phil had his principles nonetheless.
With James out of the flat, Dani filled her evening reading an online biography of Alexander Duff, Nancy MacRae’s father, on her laptop.
Duff had been born on the Southside of Glasgow during the Great Depression of the 1930s. His father had served in the navy during the Second World War and was a welder by trade. Alec followed in his father’s profession and worked for several of the large shipbuilding firms in the sixties before becoming a shop steward in the Marine Workers, Shipbuilders and Designers Union. Duff was known for his toughness and staunch principles, earning him the role of union secretary in ’72. This was the position Alec had held until his
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