Blood in the Water: A DCI Keane Scottish Crime Thriller by Oliver Davies (book club books .TXT) 📕

I was a gambler myself, I’d like the odds on that little bet. I’m not so sure you’ll be able to show us a betting history to explain why you’d receive anything like that, though.”

I needed to project absolute confidence and remain totally relaxed, no tension visible, no little giveaway signs of anxiety at all. And I needed him to believe every word I was saying. Misdirection was easy enough to pull off, but I wouldn’t risk an outright lie.

“And then, I’m also wondering what our forensics people will be able to recover from the distillery. I hope they weren’t lying to you about what was in those casks. You’d be amazed at the chemical traces that can leak out from a ‘sealed’ package. Poor Cory Phelps thought he was helping to move hashish twelve years ago, when the operation that he was working for at the time was taken down. Unfortunately for him, it wasn’t hashish. Still, he only got six years, so I guess he was luckier than some of the others... Oh?” He’d gone very white by then.

“Didn’t anyone mention that to you?” I asked pleasantly. “Well, that’s understandable. If you seemed interested in their initial proposal, they certainly wouldn’t want to put you off.”

Aaron still didn’t seem inclined to speak, so I moved on. “Of course, smuggling, even the smuggling of Class A substances, can’t be compared to conspiracy to commit murder. I can’t help feeling curious about what Damien Price caught you doing last Friday when he visited the distillery, or what you told Phelps or Jordan to make them go to so much trouble to kill him.”

“What?” Whitaker croaked out incredulously, sitting bolt upright at that. “I didn’t say anything about poor Mr Price to either of them.” His mouth snapped shut again while he ran that over in his head, a light sweat breaking out on his forehead. No, he hadn’t admitted to anything, not yet. I frowned slightly.

“I really hope you didn’t, for your sake Aaron, because there is absolutely no doubt that your associates did kill him.” He just stared at me, horrified, and I assumed a slightly more sympathetic expression and tone. “As I said, I would like to help you, if I can. Let me outline the best and worst-case scenarios for you right now. Best case? You cooperate fully and tell us everything you know, and in return, we’ll do our best to make sure that you’re let off as lightly as the law will allow. We can argue, very effectively, that you were playing a ‘Lesser Role’, with no knowledge of the scale of the operation you were participating in. I don’t think you’d have been so quick to accept an offer of some easy money if you’d thought you were helping to move anything more harmful than hashish. Most people would think twice before doing anything like that. You’re probably one of the millions of people in Britain who think cannabis should be legalised. If you can buy alcohol anywhere, why not something far less harmful? I get it. But nobody’s stopping anyone who feels that way from campaigning to change the law, or from moving to a country whose laws already suit them better until that happens.”

I really hoped I was right about him. Yes, he’d been unbelievably stupid, but I really didn’t think he was the type to go any further than that willingly. I casually took another sip of water before capturing his mesmerised gaze again and continuing.

“The problem, Aaron, is that the people in charge of wholesale smuggling operations aren’t like the normal, average guy, or woman, who also happens to enjoy a bit of a smoke now and then. The kind of psychopaths who manage to claw their way to the top of organised crime will traffic anything, from weed to heroin, from firearms to people. They’ll abuse, coerce, torture and kill without compunction because they just don’t care. They have no conscience. It’s all about money and power and doing whatever they damned well please with their sort.” Which was all perfectly true, in most cases. I leaned forward, elbows on the table. “Gullible little guys like you are just easily replaceable tools to them. The worst-case scenario? Like it or not, right now, in this country, supplying cannabis can get you up to fourteen years in prison and unlimited fines. Class A substances can get you a much longer sentence, as can conspiracy to commit murder. You really need to think about which option you’d rather deal with, Aaron.”

By the time I’d finished with that little sales pitch, all hopes of walking away from this virtually unscathed had fled Whitaker’s head, solicitor or no solicitor. What he needed now was a few minutes to think my offer over and, dry-mouthed or not, I’d noticed that he’d barely touched his water.

“Now, I know we kept you waiting for a while until Area Commander Morrison was free to join us, and I apologise for that unavoidable delay,” I told him. “If you’d like to visit the bathroom before we continue, Constable MacLeod can take you.”

He nodded gratefully, and Ewan got up to take him by the arm. After they’d gone out, Trish just shook her head at me.

“Christ, that’s some technique you’ve got there, Conall. He couldn’t even break eye contact once you got going. How on earth did you get so good at that?” It was a rhetorical question. “And what was all that about gambling and horses?”

“A little tip my cousin gave me.” She’d read the edited version of Shay’s file and could certainly put two and two together, but she knew better than to comment. What Shay was ‘authorised’ to do was none of her business, and she’d really rather not know.

Ewan soon brought Aaron back, and once he was seated again, he emptied his glass thirstily. I refilled it for him.

“What’s the best I can hope for, if I cooperate fully, Inspector Keane?” he asked, and I