Point of no Return: A Scottish Crime Thriller (A DCI Harry McNeil Crime Thriller Book 7)

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Point of no Return: A Scottish Crime Thriller (A DCI Harry McNeil Crime Thriller Book 7) Page 9

by John Carson


  ‘Okay, thanks.’

  Evans took two pints back to the table as Harry carried his and Alex’s drink over. Dunbar said he never had two full hands when he was in a pub, in case he had to use one of them quickly. Harry said he would be more than happy to head-butt somebody if his hands were full.

  ‘I don’t think we’ll be having any problems in here,’ he added, looking around at the clientele. A couple who looked to be in their fifties, clearly American. Harry couldn’t tell if the biggest giveaway was the accents or the husband’s Hawaiian shirt. A young couple who were on holiday and a few of the other guests. Nothing that would cause Brendan to break into a sweat.

  ‘You know, I would have Brian Gibbons sweating in an interview room on suspicion of killing his wife if I actually thought he was capable of doing it,’ Dunbar said.

  ‘Agreed. Fenton said Shona wanted to talk to Gibbons out in the open and one of her favourite places was the trail that leads over the hill. I think Shona Wolf would have booted his nuts for him.’

  ‘And it’s not like he’s fit enough to walk up the hill, go back down to kill his wife, then walk over the hill to the fairground,’ Evans said. ‘Unless they didn’t actually make it up the hill, but that wouldn’t fit in with the scenario.’

  ‘Explain,’ Dunbar said, taking a drink.

  ‘We know she was feisty and didn’t take any guff off her husband, who is twenty years older than her, so late fifties. She’s fitter. Let’s say they park up. Gibbons knows he’s got to get into the JCB and reverse it into the car. You think Shona Wolf would sit there and watch her husband climb into that thing? Personally, I think she would be jumping out asking him what the hell he was doing.’

  ‘I agree,’ Alex said. ‘To kill Clive Wolf first, then his wife? Besides, he has an alibi for the time of Clive’s death.’

  ‘That doesn’t mean he didn’t kill his wife,’ Harry said.

  ‘Brian Gibbons has one foot in the grave if he doesn’t do something about losing weight. I don’t see him being fit enough to kill his wife.’

  ‘She’s got a point, neighbour,’ said Dunbar. ‘There’s another reason behind the killing, and it’s not Brian Gibbons’ building plans.’

  ‘We need to ask Thomas Deal what would happen if they all died. All the beneficiaries,’ Harry said. ‘Who would benefit if they were all out of the picture. Including Brian Gibbons.’

  ‘Maybe the foundation that Brendan there was talking about,’ said xxx.

  ‘Maybe,’ said Dunbar. ‘We’ll find out tomorrow. Meantime, let’s have another drink, then I’m away to FaceTime the wife.’

  They went upstairs. Alex was in the shower and Harry was settling down to watch some TV when his mobile phone told him there was a text message.

  He took it out and read it.

  Can you meet me? You told me to contact you if I wanted to.

  It was from a number he didn’t recognise but the initial was M.

  He typed back, Who am I talking to?

  Alex came out of the en suite, drying her hair. ‘Talking to another woman while I’m in the shower,’ she said, joking.

  ‘I think I am,’ he replied. She frowned and sat down on the bed beside him. He showed her the message just as the answer to his question popped onto the screen.

  Missy.

  Nineteen

  Harry could hear the waves crashing on the shore in the distance as he stood with his collar up. He could sense the sea and smell it, but darkness hid the water.

  In the distance, he could hear the fairground in full swing, its day dying slowly until all the last customers were gone. The last gig at the music festival was over; the island’s council had stipulated that it must come to a close before the fairground and carnival.

  The house he was outside was in total darkness. The north island. The very tip, where people came to walk the trails and spot birds and whatever else outdoorsy people liked doing on an island whose neighbour was New York City thousands of miles to the east.

  He hadn’t taken the car right up to the house. He might not be a rocket scientist, but he was a damn good copper and he knew full well that this could be a trap.

  He had parked the car at a hikers’ car park and walked up a trail, his eyes adjusting to the gloom. He wondered if it had been a deliberate act, back in the day, to keep all the businesses on the south island and keep the north island for accommodation. And the fairground.

  Whatever it was, it had worked. This house had an unobstructed view to the Statue of Liberty. If your eyes were that good and your vision could bend over the horizon. The imagination could provide the sight if the ocular abilities weren’t quite up to snuff.

  He felt the cold and was glad he had worn his jacket and woollen hat. That was one thing with a Scottish summer: pack for every season. A wind whipped through the trees surrounding the property, and he was well-hidden by a large one. The headlight beams from the car announced its arrival, the driver foregoing a stealthy approach. It was a BMW 5 Series, dark in colour with superb lights cutting through the darkness, illuminating the driveway. He ducked behind the tree, but there was little chance he would be spotted in the dark.

  He waited until he heard the beep of the remote button locking the car before looking round again.

  The driver walked up the steps of the house and onto the porch. It was a stone and log affair, but nothing like he would have expected to see in Scotland. If he didn’t know better, he would have thought he’d been transported to the Canadian Rockies.

  A light came on above the front door as the driver went in. Harry moved as silently as he could to the back of the house, away from the car, which sat empty now, waiting to steal its occupant away.

  Watching where he put his feet, he rolled the woollen hat down until it morphed into a ski mask. The idea was to keep himself from being seen, not to scare the living daylights out of somebody. When he saw it was all clear, he would present himself at the front door.

  He looked through a window into what turned out to be a kitchen. The back garden backed onto the woods, offering plenty of privacy. A few kitchen cabinet lights had been turned on, but there was no sign of the driver of the car.

  There was also no sign of anybody else in the house.

  He ducked and made his way round to the front of the house, ducking below the living room window. He stood up at the front door and was putting an ear to it when suddenly the door swung open.

  He drew a fist back, but stopped when he saw there was no threat. He pulled the ski mask off.

  ‘I thought you were never going to get round to coming to the front door,’ Missy Galbraith said.

  ‘I was just making sure it was you.’

  ‘Don’t stand there; come in and I’ll make coffee.’

  He walked in, fairly sure he wasn’t going to be ambushed, but the copper in him inspected every element of the hallway. Sensing no threat, he followed her through to the kitchen he had just seen through the window minutes earlier.

  ‘Nice place,’ he said.

  ‘It’s Zachary Wolf’s now. If he lives long enough to claim it. Milk and sugar?’

  ‘Milk, please. What do you mean, “if he lives long enough”? Are you just going by recent events or do you know something? The reason you asked me along here?’

  ‘A little of both,’ Missy said, pouring boiling water into two mugs. She stirred in the instant granules and added milk from the fridge. ‘Come on, let’s take these through to the living room.’

  Harry hadn’t paid too much attention to Missy’s facial features, but up close she appeared to be a little older than he’d first thought. They each sat on a large, comfortable chair with a side table.

  ‘What is this place?’ he asked, taking a sip of the coffee. He was tired now, the combination of the long day, the flight and something that Edinburgh didn’t have an abundance of these days: fresh air.

  ‘It’s the house that Clive Wolf was left in the will.’

  ‘Does this have any bearing on
his murder?’ Harry said.

  ‘I think it does.’

  ‘That’s why you sent me a text asking me to meet you here?’

  She drank some of her coffee. ‘Yes. Clive was scared. He confided in me. People thought he was just some stuck-up spoiled brat, but I saw a different side to him. I would come across here with Thomas when Oliver needed some legal work done. I’ve been with the firm for five years now and I’ve got to know the Wolf family very well. But there’s been a shift in the whole dynamic of the Wolf clan.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘There’s just something not quite right about the heirs. Of course, they used to squabble at family gatherings, but not all the time. And now there’s an air of fear, for want of a better word. That’s why Clive came to me and confided in me.’

  ‘What about?’ Harry loosened his jacket. The logs in the fire were crackling and spitting but the heat they kicked out felt good.

  ‘He was scared, Harry. Scared for his life. The only other person he trusted in the world was his twin sister, Shona. But he knew I could keep a confidence. Thomas and I came across from the mainland a few days ago, to prepare for the memorial and get things up and running. Shortly afterwards, Clive met me here, in private.’ She paused for a moment. Drank some of her coffee.

  ‘He overheard people talking, in the big house. He couldn’t make out everything that was being said. But one thing he did hear was them talking about where Murdo Wolf was buried.’

  ‘Why didn’t he contact us?’

  Missy looked at him for a moment. ‘Who would have believed him? Clive had been known to shout his mouth off. Not many people liked him, especially Sergeant Turnbull. So Clive did the next best thing: he went looking himself.’

  ‘It’s just as well you weren’t with him, or else you might have been a victim too.’

  ‘Trust me, I wanted to go with him last night. He wouldn’t hear of it. He asked me to stay and be his eyes and ears in the house.’

  Harry drank more coffee, feeling the effects of the heat from the fire starting to grip him. The warmth was nice. Summer was never roasting in Scotland, but being on an island that was wide open to the Atlantic didn’t help. The last thing he wanted was to doze off.

  ‘Did you hear anything?’ he asked.

  ‘No, nothing. They were all about how they were going to spend their money.’

  ‘Let me ask you what you think of them.’

  ‘They were typical spoilt brats. I know people thought Clive was spoilt, but whenever he was across on the mainland we had dinner and he was really good fun. He treated me like a lady. Unlike some of the animals I’ve been out with.’

  ‘He trusted you, in other words.’

  She looked at the floor for a moment before answering. ‘Yes, he trusted me completely. And I trusted him. He was the only Wolf family member I would trust.’

  ‘Do you think one of them killed him?’

  ‘I wouldn’t put it past them. But all I know is, he left that afternoon and I didn’t see him again. I couldn’t go looking for him, because that would have shown my hand. But the others were in the hotel, helping out with the memorial. Whoever killed him, I don’t think it was one of the Wolf clan.’

  ‘Did he give you any sort of idea who he overheard talking about killing old Murdo?’

  Missy looked at the fire before looking back at Harry. ‘I wish I had pressed him more to remember, but all he said was that it was two men.’

  ‘We know it wasn’t Fenton and Zach, because they were only children at the time.’

  ‘If Clive knew, he didn’t say.’

  They both heard the creak of the floorboards at the same time. Just before all the lights in the house went out.

  The interior door banged open and a masked figure ran in, illuminated only by the flickering light from the fire.

  Harry saw the man was holding a hammer. He dropped his cup, reached over for a burning log, grabbed hold of it and swiped it at the running man. This stopped the attacker in his tracks.

  Missy threw herself sideways off the chair and rolled behind Harry. She too grabbed a burning log as Harry advanced on the attacker, who was now swinging the hammer ferociously. Harry was well aware that it would only take one hit from the tool to disable or possibly kill him.

  Still he advanced on the man, gaining ground, until they heard glass smashing from the kitchen at the back of the house. Then the sound of an explosion, like a petrol bomb had just gone off.

  Harry took his eye off the ball for a second and the attacker lunged, but Missy got a strike in, hitting his arm and setting fire to his jacket. It caught and went up. He unzipped it, not taking his eyes off Harry, and threw the burning apparel towards the curtains, where the licking flames caught and spread.

  They couldn’t see his face because of the mask, not unlike the one Harry had been wearing when he approached. More glass breaking, more flames and they were spreading closer. Thick smoke was creeping into the living room as the attacker turned and fled.

  Harry and Missy were about to run outside, but the flames took hold of the back of the house. The fire exploded all around them.

  Then Missy was on her feet, pulling on Harry’s arm as he struggled to get up. He was standing again, but the way out was on fire.

  ‘This way!’ Missy shouted, pulling him through a doorway on one side of the living room. They ran along a short corridor and Missy pushed a door that was ajar. It led into a bedroom. She ran over to a window and opened it, and they climbed out into the fresh air.

  Harry started coughing and put a hand over his mouth.

  ‘We can’t stay here or we’ll be trapped!’ Missy shouted. They could both see the house was well alight now, the fire spreading like a disease.

  They ran round the side of the house and came to the parking area. The BMW had been given the same treatment as the house. They could hear a car’s engine roaring as it hit the road further down.

  Harry took his phone out and dialled treble nine. He hung up and called Jimmy Dunbar, not wanting to panic Alex.

  Then he looked at Missy. ‘Two men. One with a hammer, trying to kill us. The same people who killed Clive.’ Then he hung up.

  ‘We don’t know the second person is a man,’ she answered. ‘It probably is, but you, being a copper, should know better than to jump to conclusions.’

  ‘Point taken.’

  Then all they could do was stand and watch the house burn.

  Twenty

  Harry didn’t know if he was shaking more because of the come-down from the adrenaline rush or the rollicking Alex was giving him.

  ‘Jesus. Don’t you ever do that to me again, Harry McNeil,’ she said.

  ‘Changed days when a junior officer talks to her DCI like that,’ Missy said in a whisper as they stood at the back of the ambulance.

  ‘She’s also my wife,’ he said as Alex was looking over to the fire service fighting the fire.

  ‘Oh. Then she has every right. If I were your wife, I would be giving you a ticking-off too.’

  He raised an eyebrow. ‘You invited me here, remember?’

  ‘I’m not your wife.’

  ‘Women stick together; that’s the problem.’

  ‘We also have good hearing,’ Alex said, turning back to him. ‘We’re also allowed to vent. Isn’t that right, Missy?’

  ‘She’s got you bang to rights there, Harry. But to be fair, I did ask him along here. I thought we’d be safe. Nobody knew I was coming here.’

  ‘What about your boss, Deal?’

  ‘He was already in bed. I didn’t tell anybody, and as far as I knew, I wasn’t followed. I mean, I’m not a secret agent, but it would have been easy to tell if there had been another pair of headlights following me.’

  ‘Somebody knew you were here, or coming here,’ Harry said. ‘But unless you told them, they didn’t know I would be here.’

  ‘It seems like taking a sledgehammer to crack a nut,’ Dunbar said. ‘It was a bit extreme, using fire
bombs like that.’

  ‘You think it might have been the Wolf boys?’ Evans said. ‘I mean, you said it was two men.’

  ‘The thing is, why would they destroy this house? If they’re wanting money, then they just saw a lot of it go up in a pile of smoke,’ Harry said.

  ‘Could be just a cover,’ Dunbar said. ‘Wanting to put us off the trail.’

  ‘Whoever it was, they’re out to cause mayhem.’

  They turned as a patrol car came rushing into the parking area in front of the house, which was no mean feat considering it was already tight with vehicles, including the shell of the BMW, which was now a metal hulk.

  Sergeant Turnbull jumped out of the passenger seat, leaving a constable sitting behind the wheel.

  ‘Where’s the car we were using?’ Dunbar asked.

  ‘It’s been wrecked, sir. Windows smashed, tyres slashed. It won’t be going anywhere except on the back of a tow truck.’

  ‘Looks like you could have been followed, squire,’ Dunbar said to Harry.

  ‘I didn’t see them.’

  ‘Maybe they knew where you were going in advance.’

  ‘How, though?’ Harry said.

  Alex looked at Missy. ‘Thomas Deal knew you were coming here?’

  ‘No. I didn’t tell anybody. I just slipped out.’

  ‘Where were Fenton and Zach?’

  Missy shrugged. ‘Your guess is as good as mine. I haven’t seen them. They’re acting very strange.’

  ‘I don’t think you should be staying in that house anymore. Is there room at the hotel next door?’

  ‘No. They’re fully booked with the people from the memorial.’

  ‘Why don’t you come and see if there’s a room at the little hotel where we’re staying?’ Alex said. ‘If not, I’m sure you could bunk in with me. Harry can sleep on the floor of another room.’ She looked at Harry, who nodded.

  ‘I think it’s a better idea than being in the house with Fenton and Zach,’ he replied. ‘Can you pack some things and come with us?’

  ‘I can. I didn’t bring a lot of stuff. We’re only here for a few days, so I didn’t bring a wardrobe with me. No need for an evening gown.’

 

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