an expensive game with a lot of overheads. Cash flow
was the main problem. The retailers would take an age to pay and
gold traders don’t take IOUs.
Then there was
Selina. The businesswoman who lived like a pop star. Although she
was barred from making the company’s most crucial decisions on her
own, she was still the face of Seth International and refused point
blank to rein in her spending. She’d taunt Martin during their many
furious rows that he was ‘just an accountant’ and she was the
‘creative one’ in the partnership. She did have a point. And it was
also true that she had to entertain department store head buyers,
but Selina’s ‘entertaining’ usually moved quickly from bottles of
Bollinger to the bedroom.
Lately, she’d spent a
lot of time romancing a big player at Tesco. Her credit card bills
for expensive London restaurants and hotels had been mind-boggling,
but Martin knew only too well that the account could have been the
answers to their prayers.
It’d been close, too,
before she died.
DCI Crosbie
entered the room having come straight from his second murder scene
in two days. He sat down wearily and looked at the widower and his
female lawyer. Crosbie was the first to speak. ‘Hello, Martin, I’m
Detective Chief Inspector Crosbie, but if you’re a good lad, you
can call me Bing. Now listen, I’m very tired, and I can’t be arsed
trying to coax information out of you. You’re an intelligent man,
so how about you just tell me the truth and nothing but the
truth?’
14
The Suspects
April and
Connor had agreed to go for a coffee in Starbucks after they’d
finished filing their copy. As Martin Seth had been arrested,
April’s interview could not be used as it was sub judice. Events
had overtaken her exclusive chat with murder suspect number one,
anyway, after the discovery of Jackie McIvor, a well-known street
worker whose neck had been broken and her body dumped in a
ditch.
Connor had been sent
to the crime scene where yet again his friendly copper on police
line duties had managed to slip him a few more nuggets of
information that would keep the Daily Herald ahead of the
pack.
April and Connor had
left the office as the splash was being designed on screen –
Woman No. 2 murdered, Seth’s husband arrested. It was certainly
striking, but both felt uneasy about it.
‘I don’t think Martin
could kill anyone, never mind two women in two days,’ April said,
emptying her fourth sugar sachet into her latte and taking a bite
out of her Danish pastry.
Connor looked at the
empty sachets with disdain. ‘Do you know what? I don’t think I’ve
met anyone who eats as much as you do.’
April let out a
raucous laugh. ‘I know – wherever do I put it all?’ She patted
her wide hips.
They were silent for
a moment, stirring their coffees absent-mindedly.
Connor was the first
to speak. ‘Well, I’ve never met him, but it’d take a special kind
of psychopath to kill twice in two days – it’s almost unheard
of.’
‘He honestly doesn’t
have it in him. He looks fairly fit but he’s not strong enough to
have snapped someone’s neck,’ April mused.
‘Don’t be so sure.
Look at Peter Tobin, a right wee insignificant guy, yet the
brutality he inflicted on his victims was horrific.’
Tobin was a small,
wiry man who had kept his emotions in check throughout his police
interviews and the search for three separate murder victims. The
facade had only slipped once when he was being led from the High
Court in Glasgow to a prison van where he’d kicked a kneeling Daily Herald photographer Paul Kielty in the neck. Before
the snapper had passed out, he’d managed to fire off one frame of
Tobin’s evil face twisted and contorted with rage – so
obviously the real Tobin his poor victims had seen before he
sadistically took their lives.
‘I still can’t
believe Paul Kielty didn’t win a press award for that picture,’
spat Connor. ‘And who
was the main problem. The retailers would take an age to pay and
gold traders don’t take IOUs.
Then there was
Selina. The businesswoman who lived like a pop star. Although she
was barred from making the company’s most crucial decisions on her
own, she was still the face of Seth International and refused point
blank to rein in her spending. She’d taunt Martin during their many
furious rows that he was ‘just an accountant’ and she was the
‘creative one’ in the partnership. She did have a point. And it was
also true that she had to entertain department store head buyers,
but Selina’s ‘entertaining’ usually moved quickly from bottles of
Bollinger to the bedroom.
Lately, she’d spent a
lot of time romancing a big player at Tesco. Her credit card bills
for expensive London restaurants and hotels had been mind-boggling,
but Martin knew only too well that the account could have been the
answers to their prayers.
It’d been close, too,
before she died.
DCI Crosbie
entered the room having come straight from his second murder scene
in two days. He sat down wearily and looked at the widower and his
female lawyer. Crosbie was the first to speak. ‘Hello, Martin, I’m
Detective Chief Inspector Crosbie, but if you’re a good lad, you
can call me Bing. Now listen, I’m very tired, and I can’t be arsed
trying to coax information out of you. You’re an intelligent man,
so how about you just tell me the truth and nothing but the
truth?’
14
The Suspects
April and
Connor had agreed to go for a coffee in Starbucks after they’d
finished filing their copy. As Martin Seth had been arrested,
April’s interview could not be used as it was sub judice. Events
had overtaken her exclusive chat with murder suspect number one,
anyway, after the discovery of Jackie McIvor, a well-known street
worker whose neck had been broken and her body dumped in a
ditch.
Connor had been sent
to the crime scene where yet again his friendly copper on police
line duties had managed to slip him a few more nuggets of
information that would keep the Daily Herald ahead of the
pack.
April and Connor had
left the office as the splash was being designed on screen –
Woman No. 2 murdered, Seth’s husband arrested. It was certainly
striking, but both felt uneasy about it.
‘I don’t think Martin
could kill anyone, never mind two women in two days,’ April said,
emptying her fourth sugar sachet into her latte and taking a bite
out of her Danish pastry.
Connor looked at the
empty sachets with disdain. ‘Do you know what? I don’t think I’ve
met anyone who eats as much as you do.’
April let out a
raucous laugh. ‘I know – wherever do I put it all?’ She patted
her wide hips.
They were silent for
a moment, stirring their coffees absent-mindedly.
Connor was the first
to speak. ‘Well, I’ve never met him, but it’d take a special kind
of psychopath to kill twice in two days – it’s almost unheard
of.’
‘He honestly doesn’t
have it in him. He looks fairly fit but he’s not strong enough to
have snapped someone’s neck,’ April mused.
‘Don’t be so sure.
Look at Peter Tobin, a right wee insignificant guy, yet the
brutality he inflicted on his victims was horrific.’
Tobin was a small,
wiry man who had kept his emotions in check throughout his police
interviews and the search for three separate murder victims. The
facade had only slipped once when he was being led from the High
Court in Glasgow to a prison van where he’d kicked a kneeling Daily Herald photographer Paul Kielty in the neck. Before
the snapper had passed out, he’d managed to fire off one frame of
Tobin’s evil face twisted and contorted with rage – so
obviously the real Tobin his poor victims had seen before he
sadistically took their lives.
‘I still can’t
believe Paul Kielty didn’t win a press award for that picture,’
spat Connor. ‘And who
Similar Books
