by Les Cowan
Praise for the first book in Les Cowan’s David Hidalgo series, Benefit of the Doubt:
“The joy of Benefit Of The Doubt is that the author has crafted well-rounded and highly believable characters, and meticulously researched the environments they live in. That gives the book a real sense of place. This truly is a breath of fresh air from the hard-man-style detective novels, yet the undercurrents it creates are just as threatening… Masterful!
Living Orkney magazine
“Well-written and thoroughly enjoyable in every twist and turn of the story. David Hidalgo is a great character and I expect to see more of him.”
One Man in the Middle blog
“Good storyline, which kept moving on and was a real page-turner! The author has created believable characters and this is a thriller with a bit of a difference. Really looking forward to the next instalment in the David Hidalgo series.”
“A gripping journey through Spain and Edinburgh that keeps you by the side of the main character, Señor David. Following his challenges through the underworld of drug barons, abductions, and personal doubts, it results in a cliffhanger ending. It’s pleasing to read a realistic, yet non-graphic crime thriller that has a thought-provoking strand of spirituality running through it.”
“Super book. A gripping tale. The characters in this novel are very believable. The story unfolds and pulls you in. I loved all the action in Edinburgh; I’m sure I’ve met a couple of these folk! Really interesting questions of faith are explored all set around a tragedy. A really gripping read. Cant wait for the next one in the series!”
Extracts from reviews on www.amazon.co.uk
Books by Les Cowan
The David Hidalgo series:
Book 1: Benefit of the Doubt
Book 2: All that Glitters
Book 3: Sins of the Fathers (coming soon)
Non-fiction titles:
Loose Talk Collected
Orkney by Bike
Text copyright © 2018 Les Cowan
This edition copyright © 2018 Lion Hudson IP Limited
The right of Les Cowan to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
All the characters in this book are fictitious and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Published by
Lion Hudson Limited
Wilkinson House, Jordan Hill Business Park
Banbury Road, Oxford OX2 8DR, England
www.lionhudson.com
ISBN 978 1 78264 253 4
e-ISBN 978 1 78264 254 1
First edition 2018
Acknowledgments
Scripture quotations taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version Anglicized. Copyright © 1979, 1984, 2011 Biblica, formerly International Bible Society. Used by permission of Hodder & Stoughton Ltd, an Hachette UK company. All rights reserved. “NIV” is a registered trademark of Biblica. UK trademark number 1448790.
Extracts on p. 9 and p. 283 from The Authorized (King James) Version (‘the KJV’), the rights in which are vested in the Crown in the United Kingdom, are reproduced here by permission of the Crown’s patentee, Cambridge University Press.
Cover image: © Dennis van de Water/shutterstock.com
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
For Angus
Test reader, sympathetic (and knowledgeable) critic,
and encourager-in-chief
CONTENTS
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1: Colinton Mains
Chapter 2: The Traveller’s Tale
Chapter 3: Gorgie Dalry
Chapter 4: The Businessman’s Tale
Chapter 5: South Bridge
Chapter 6: The Driver’s Tale
Chapter 7: The Grange
Chapter 8: The Smuggler’s Tale
Chapter 9: Cyberspace
Chapter 10: The Middle Man’s Tale
Chapter 11: George IV Bridge
Chapter 12: The Prisoner’s Tale
Chapter 13: Silverknowes
Chapter 14: Hacienda
Chapter 15: The Burglar’s Tale
Chapter 16: HQ
Chapter 17: The Conspirator’s Tale
Chapter 18: Ribadeo
Chapter 19: Shorelines
Chapter 20: Minsk
Chapter 21: Plaza de España
Chapter 22: Corstorphine
Chapter 23: Hanover Street
Chapter 24: Duff Street
Chapter 25: Friday Night is Music Night
Chapter 26: Bruntsfield
Chapter 27: Edinburgh Evening
Epilogue
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Once again I want to thank all those who made this story possible both in practical ways and by way of general encouragement.
Firstly, thanks to Fiona, Angus, Dot, Mija, and Janet for reading early drafts and commenting. I’m glad you feel it has been a story worth telling.
Secondly, thanks to the many readers of David’s earlier adventures in Benefit of the Doubt, who have pleaded for more. Can I once again apologize for the cliffhanger ending and promise that it’ll never happen again. I hope you feel it has been worth the wait. In particular, thanks for your many Facebook comments, emails, and Amazon reviews. (Particular thanks to Montse in Ribadeo, who told me she had found a new hero!)
Thanks to John Ross Scott and One Man in the Middle for your favourable published reviews.
Thanks also to those who came to launch events, parted with their cash, and have said they enjoyed Book One. I hope you are willing to do the same for Book Two.
Grateful thanks to Jessica Tinker at Lion Hudson (and Tony Collins previously) for believing in David Hidalgo and doing what needed to be done to bring him to the reading public.
Thanks to Julie Frederick for your attention to detail in proof editing and for making me question things that made sense to me at the time but to no one else after that.
Thanks also to Stromness library staff for putting up with me hogging the nice window seats while writing day after day and to Soo for providing caffeine to fuel the muse.
Finally, thanks to you who are reading. I hope you enjoy this story and will let me know at [email protected]. Find out more about this series at www.worldofdavidhidalgo.com.
Another parable put he forth unto them, saying, The kingdom of heaven is likened unto a man which sowed good seed in his field: But while men slept, his enemy came and sowed tares among the wheat, and went his way. But when the blade was sprung up, and brought forth fruit, then appeared the tares also. So the servants of the householder came and said unto him, Sir, didst not thou sow good seed in thy field? from whence then hath it tares? He said unto them, An enemy hath done this…
Matthew 13:24-28, KJV
Chapter 1
COLINTON MAINS
Juan Hernandez was just about to give the horn another blast when the tenement door he was watching opened and a slim, upright man, perhaps into his fifties, but apparently still spry and energetic, emerged. Juan leaned across and pushed the passenger door open.
“Buenos días, hermano. ¿Qué tal?” David Hidalgo threw a battered leather briefcase into the back seat, just missing Juan’s left ear, jumped in, and took off a grey fedora.
“Ok, I suppose,” he said, “in the circumstances.”
Juan gave a grunt and pulled out into traffic.
“So, where to?”
David unfolded a crumpled scrap of paper.
“Colinton Mains Rise. Sixty-seven. Holy Corner then out Colinton Road. Past Tesco.”
“Ok. Venga. Vamos.” Juan’s Hacienda restaurant van gave a wheeze and a cough before getting into its stride as if unused to such an early start.
“Just us?”
“No, the others are making their own way there. Mrs MacInnes insists on taking the bus. I’m sure she thinks every free journey on her bus pass helps make up for the millions wasted on the trams.”
Juan smiled as he pulled through stop-start Saturday morning traffic. If only their stalwart church treasurer had been in charge of public finances in 2008; then the crisis still raging, particularly in Spain, could surely have been avoided. Profligate bankers would have got such a telling off they would have humbly returned their dodgy millions, sacked the rogue traders, and offered to pick up litter in the park if that would have helped.
“And who are we visiting?” Juan asked.
“Sam and Mike Hunter. Do you remember Mike? He worked for Sabadell in Madrid for three years. Then there was some sort of deal with Salamanca Bank and he was transferred to Edinburgh.”
“I think I do. He’s English but he called himself Miguel then. Yes, I remember. He helped a lot with church finances when we were starting. Drove a black Audi convertible, didn’t he? Looked more like a drug dealer than the real thing.”
“Well he’s completely respectable now. Married another financial wizard and they have a massive house with a huge living room. It makes sense to meet there since there’s going to be a few of us today.”
Juan pulled up at a pedestrian crossing to let a wave of students heading down to the library, young mums with buggies, and serious Saturday morning walkers stream across in front of them. David took the time to glance around. There was a solid row of Victorian tenements on one side and a lettings office, accessories boutique, and a hairdressers on the other. It wasn’t Gran Via but he was getting used to Bruntsfield and liked it. Near the heart of the city but still with a village feel from all the independent shops and acres of green space on the Links. And since his flat had been transformed from something approaching a second-hand furniture dump to a liveable, and maybe even slightly stylish, personal space, he was beginning to feel at home. The only thing he still regretted was passing up a 1948 Selmer Super Balanced Action tenor sax in favour of a washing machine. Tending the body or feeding the soul – a tough choice. If the bloke in Steptoe’s had known what it was worth he could have retired on the proceeds.
“And remind me what it’s all about then?” Juan broke in as the lights turned green.
“You remember that Southside Fellowship joined the Edinburgh Council of Churches last year? This is a sub-group called the City Learning Forum – mainly just to share what seems to be working for each of us. No big agenda. No minutes. No decisions. Just sharing and learning. This month it’s our turn – hence a need for the three-line whip.”
“A what?” Juan’s English had improved hugely since he and Alicia had opened Hacienda two years ago, but really understanding a language also means knowing a million facts about the country and its customs – something he found endlessly frustrating.
“It just means everybody present. You could say ‘All hands on deck’ or ‘All present and correct’. It’s a parliamentary term.”
“So everyone gets whipped three times if they don’t show up, no?”
“Not quite.” David smiled. “Though not a bad idea. Anyway, I thought it would be good to have a variety of viewpoints so we can each say what we think.”
“Well, we are growing, so something must be right. Anyway, that’s it? We just talk about what we do and how things are going? Y nada mas.”
“More or less. Oh, one other thing. Mike has some financial thing he wants to talk about afterwards so I’ll make my own way back. Probably nothing, but he called me last night and sounded a bit concerned.”
“Suits me. You know I hate meetings.”
Another wait at Holy Corner lights, then finally a right out past Starbucks, Napier University, and into leafy suburbia. David could never quite decide if Holy Corner was a joke, a blunder, or postmodern irony and therefore very clever. So-called for having four churches, one at each junction, it had probably started as a wisecrack. It wasn’t as if holiness was meant to be taken seriously after all. But maybe even that was changing in a world where nothing seemed to stay the same for long. All that Eat, Pray, Love stuff seemed to be going down pretty well. At any rate, so many Edinburgh churches seemed to be stuffed with under thirty-fives these days there was clearly something going on. Maybe even holiness was making a comeback.
They drove a mile in silence until, finally, Juan couldn’t contain himself any longer.
“You know, Señor David,” he said, “some people would say you’ve been incredibly lucky.”
“Except we don’t believe in luck – as you’re always telling me.”
“I’m just saying be careful. There may be angels around you; just don’t keep them so busy. That’s all.”
“You don’t need to remind me.”
“The stitches will be out soon, I suppose. You’ll be back to normal in a couple of days. Seguro.”
David looked out at the tranquil rows of homes and gardens sliding past, apparently so far removed from shootouts, drug dealers, kidnapping, and violence.
It’ll take a bit longer than that, he thought, but didn’t say it. If I had the faintest idea what normal is supposed to be any more.
Less than a fortnight had passed since Reverend David Hidalgo and Dr Gillian Lockhart had slipped away from their welcome home party at Southside Fellowship on South Clerk Street, back home more or less intact after a series of events no one could have predicted and David still could hardly believe. The search for a teenage runaway in Edinburgh had turned into an armed attack in Holyrood Park, an abduction to Spain, and a SWAT team shootout in a medieval castle. But it had also turned into a journey from utter black despair to the beginnings of hope again: you rescue me, I rescue you. They had crossed the road hand in hand and paused to look into the window of Rings and Things. The engagement diamond solitaires seemed particularly interesting. Then, without any warning, a series of shots had blown the evening apart. A body had slumped against David, the jeweller’s window splattered with blood. The early evening hum was shattered with screams. David felt a searing pain on the crown of his head, put his hand up, and drew down fingers sticky with blood. Gillian was crouching on the pavement, hands clasped over her head, trembling, covered in fragments of glass. Then the screech of car tyres and a black 4x4 disappearing through the traffic. In an instant all of the satisfaction of a difficult task brought to a safe conclusion had disappeared like smoke. David had knelt, expecting the worst. The image of Gillian looking up with an expression of horror was still as vivid in his mind as the moment it happened. A young man lay groaning at his feet as the blood began to pool. David didn’t have it in him to help; he just pulled out a handkerchief, clapped it on top of his own head, and slumped against the shopfront, gripping Gillian to him as if she were the one thing he had to hold on to in a world beginning to teeter and sway.
“Some people might say you’re a very lucky man,” DI Thompson had said, dropping his pen on the desk and pushing back his chair some hours later in an interview room.
“I wish people would stop saying that,” David had replied wearily. “It just means I’ve very nearly been extremely unlucky.” Thompson inclined his head, conceding the point.
“So, what do you make of it, then?” he had asked.
David had taken his glasses off and was rubbing his face almost as if trying to wash it all away.
“I think someone close to Raúl Álvarez was looking for revenge. Or a bit of glory. Or just for the fun of it. They came to Edinburgh, watched the church, saw us come out, and took a shot. Simple as that.”
“That’s obvious. What I mean is, how did they miss? You weren’
t exactly a moving target.”
“Well, that’s maybe where what you call ‘luck’ comes in. We were looking in the window. Gillian saw something she liked. I suppose we must have leaned forward to take a closer look just when the gun went off – so the other guy got it. How is he, by the way?”
“He’ll live. Got him in the shoulder. Lots of blood but luckily – or whatever you call it – there was a medical student passing. She applied enough pressure till the ambulance arrived. Otherwise he’d have been a gonner.”
“So, lines of inquiry?”
“The usual – passport control, ports of entry, known associates. Needle in a haystack really.”
Now all David had to show for it was a row of stitches in his scalp, some cuts on the way to healing, and an earnest desire for a boring life.
Another half an hour and Juan’s Hacienda van, complete with a Flamenco dancer on the side, pulled up outside a 1930s detached villa with a neatly clipped hedge and lions on the gate posts. Wow, he thought. Qué ricos. I wonder if there’d be a market out here for home delivery. “Hacienda at Home”. I’ll have to see what Alicia thinks of that.
Seconds later a silver MX5 drew to a halt from the other direction and a petite figure with jet black hair climbed slowly and painfully out. Dr Gillian Lockhart gradually straightened up, smiled in David Hidalgo’s direction, and carefully closed the car door.
David smiled back. Gillian: the one he’d found against all the odds, who had come in and transformed his life. The one he’d lost and found again in Spain, and finally almost lost for good in a mixture of gunshots, blood, and glass in an Edinburgh street. Sometimes he felt like his life was turning into a remake of Jaws. Just when you thought it was safe to go back into the water…
“I feel such a fraud,” she whispered in his ear as they wandered up the drive past the Jag and the Boxster. “I’ve been at Southside less than six months. Isn’t this supposed to be a leaders’ thing?”
He squeezed her hand reassuringly. “Yes and no. The group’s about learning, so I suppose it doesn’t matter who we learn from. I would say a key problem is that we’re all so used to living in the bubble that we don’t even register how it must seem to outsiders. So you have a really useful perspective. It’ll be fine.”