by Val Penny
“So no resignation after all, DC Myerscough?” John Hamilton shouted out. “Thought not!”
“Silence! I will have none of that talk here, DC Hamilton,” Mackay growled. “DC Myerscough did indeed tender his resignation. It has been declined. The Force has no intention of losing great men, or women, due to the actions of their fathers. You are, however, each responsible for your own actions.” Mackay stared at Hamilton. “Have I made myself quite clear to everybody?”
“Yes, Sir,” rippled around the room.
Mel glanced over at Tim and smiled. He smiled back, grateful for the silent support.
“However, you are required in my office after this meeting, Hamilton. Now, may I have everybody's attention, please?” Mackay called. “We have a lot to get through this morning. I do not want to waste time having to repeat things because anyone is not paying attention.”
The room fell quiet again. John Hamilton even stopped chewing his bacon roll for a moment. Rachael sipped coffee while Jane cradled a mug of camomile tea. Tim was still standing between Bear and Hunter trying to work out what was happening. If he had had any doubt as to whether he was entitled to be in the room, Mackay's staunch support allayed his fears. Mackay nodded at Tim and the young man perched on the edge of a desk.
“Let me start with the most important item on our agenda this morning. That is the support and discretion Tim requires from us just now. I have no doubt that all of you are now aware that his father has been charged with fraud and possession of a quantity of cocaine.” Mackay looked around the room.
Heads nodded. Eyes hugged the carpet.
“The press will find out about the charge all too soon. They will not find out from us.”
He paused. “Believe me, if I find a leak that leads back to this room, the source will find life not worth living. I will make sure of that. The Press Officer will arrange all interviews and details released to the press and public. Am I clear?”
Heads nodded again.
“Sir Peter is the person who has been charged. And he is innocent until proved guilty. Tim Myerscough is his son. Tim is not charged with any crime. Being your father's son is not a crime, so his relationship to the accused is not important to any of us, except that Tim may need our support. Tim is a police detective, one of our team. We will rally round him. We must protect him from publicity. Am I clear?” His eyes swept around the room again. “The only thing I must insist on from you, DC Myerscough, is that you avoid unnecessary publicity and act with the utmost propriety.”
“Of course, Sir.”
“No statements to the press or posing for photos in the papers.”
“No, Sir.” Tim could not help smiling. The thought of posing for photographs had never crossed his mind.
“Also, you must remain excluded from all the investigations involving your father. No information must leak through to you. Do I make myself clear?”
Tim was aware of all the eyes upon him and simply nodded his response.
“Now, DC Myerscough, can you explain your idea that DC Zewedu was speaking about this morning? Go ahead, please.”
Tim's face was red with embarrassment. He glanced at Bear and stood up, hunched forward.
“No, man,”whispered Bear. “Not like that. Stand up, stand proud.”
Tim nodded and did as his friend said. Immediately, he seemed to take up more space in the room. His broad shoulders filled his jacket; his thighs were the circumference of Mel's waist.
The undertone of murmurs in the room slowed and stopped.
“Well,” Tim began. “We had been searching for registration numbers that matched those which witnesses remembered. But we had not found any likely vehicles. Of course, witnesses are notoriously bad at accurate recall.”
“Including me, apparently,” interjected Hunter.
Tim smiled.
“I suggested to Bear, um… DC Zewedu, that we try to check the other way around. In other words, we make a list of the suspects we have in relation to the murders and the injury to the girl in Morningside, to see if any of their cars meet the details of the ones our witnesses saw.”
“Why does it have to be one of those people?” Rachael asked.
“It might not be anything to do with them,” Tim replied, a bit defensively. “It was just a different way of approaching a stalled investigation.” He looked around. “We have two corpses and a girl on life support. I felt we had to do something.”
Rachael nodded. “Yeah, I can see that,” she said. “Good idea.”
Mackay looked over at Bear. “Did you find something from this new search, DC Zewedu? You seemed quite elated this morning.”
“Yes, Sir.” Bear grinned. “I think we have found something, but I don't know exactly what it means.”
“Don't keep us in suspense then, man.”
“Arjun Mansoor reported his car missing to DC Hamilton and DC Reid, and, apparently, he was furious. He wanted to hang draw and quarter the thief.”
“Yes, that's true. He was raging,” Colin Reid agreed. “However, when the car later turned up, damaged, he just told Jane and John that his friend had borrowed it and forgotten to tell him. He eventually dropped the charges altogether.”
“Bear, we know this. It's a silver Discovery,“ Hunter snarled.
“True.” Bear did not stop smiling. “However, as a result of Tim's idea, I checked up further on Mansoor and his car. The previous owner's details were as he said.”
“Really?” said Hunter. “Now that is interesting. What was the registration number?”
“PS59 JFF,” interjected Hamilton, clearing crumbs from the notes he had taken when Mansoor reported his car stolen. “When Jane and I went to see him, the front had definitely sustained a bump. But he was adamant he did not want to pursue it. He wanted a crime number for insurance, but Jane said he couldn’t have one unless there was a crime.”
“Remember, my father has identified Mansoor as his cocaine supplier too.”
“I have not forgotten, Tim,” Hunter said quietly. “I am worried that the bugger may have implicated my son as well as your father.”
“Mansoor is a manipulative bastard, isn't he?”Mackay commented. “Now, DC Zewedu, anything else?”
“Yeah, loads, Sir. I also checked Joe Johnson's claim that he hasn't driven since his accident from the Forth Bridge.” Bear paused for breath. “That seems to be true. He had to hand in his licence after he had an accident, some years ago. He has made no application to have it reinstated.”
“I doubt Joe is ever sober enough to aim a car at someone. At least not accurately,” Hunter commented.
“Both Jamie and his cousin Frankie have access to cars. Neither has passed a driving test, but that does not mean they don't drive. Jamie has passed the theory but failed his practical. Frankie works some evenings and weekends at Mansoor's garage, or he could borrow either of his parents' cars. He has a provisional licence, but hasn’t even passed the theory test yet.”
“I cannot see Frankie having this kind of violence in him,” Tim said quietly.
“Jamie could take his mother's car,” Bear went on, “since she left with Lennie Pratt to live in Spain. But that is a red MG sports car. It just doesn't fit. However, there is an old, silver Range Rover Sport still registered to Jamie's dad. Fine motor.”
“Ian Thomson? How long has he been inside now?” asked Mackay.
Bear looked at his notes. “He got six years for the Bank of Scotland job. He should be out in about six or seven months with good behaviour, Sir.”
“Hmmm. Even if he still bears a grudge against Billy Hope for not taking his share of the blame for that job, he has no connection with the women, does he?”
“Not that I could find, Sir,” Bear mumbled.
“Unless you count that Mary-Ann cleaned for his sister, and her daughter was dating his nephew,” said Tim.
“It's not enough,” Hunter muttered.
“And Jamie doesn't drive?” Mackay asked.
“Failed h
is test several times, Sir,” Mel answered. “And he certainly can't drive with that smashed ankle! So that rules him out of Annie and Billy, even if he had a reason.”
“True. What’s the registration of Thomson's Land Rover?” Hunter asked Bear.
“P559 JIT, Sir,” Bear read from his notes.
“The only other people we have interviewed are Sir Peter after the housebreaking, Billy's widow Edna after Billy's death, and Arjun Mansoor after he reported his car stolen,” Hunter said.
“My Dad may be an arse, but he's not a murderer,” Tim said defensively.
“I never thought he was,” Hunter said. “I also can't see Edna mowing down her own husband or cleaner – she's too lazy to want to do her own housework. What does she drive, anyway?”
“The car registered to her is a blue Toyota Auris. Billy had a white Nissan X-Trail and a black Mini Cooper,” Bear said.
“I suppose it would depend on the nature of the business he was doing, which he would use,” Hunter concluded aloud.
“Just one thing, Boss.”
“Yes, Jane?”
“When you and Tim interviewed Edna, she tried to deny knowing Arjun Mansoor, although I had seen them deep in conversation at the Gallery of Modern Art. She left on foot, so I let her go, but I followed him home.”
“That's right. I forgot about that, Jane,” Hunter said. “Have you come to any conclusions after all this research, DC Zewedu?”
“Well, Sir, I thought Mansoor could justify some extra investigation. After all, he is running Ian Thomson's old showroom and has access to lots of different vehicles. And somebody must be turning over Thomson's privately-owned cars. They couldn't just sit in a garage for all that time.”
“He got a decent stretch. That bank teller is in a wheelchair for life,” Tim said.
“Yep. Probably Mansoor or Billy see to Ian's cars, I'd guess. Mansoor have any previous?”
“None that I could find, Sir. Seems he's never been caught!”
Bear looked up from his notes. “I found two cars registered to Ian Thomson, sir. One is a red Porsche. That didn't fit into our framework. The other is the silver Range Rover Sport. It is an old one, but it was state of the art at the time. Registration number P559 JIT. If I had a machine like that, I wouldn't want to get rid of it either.”
“Sorry, you said what, Bear? Silver?” asked Hunter. “Silver could have looked white the night I saw Billy killed. “But that's not the number I remember. I took it down as PS59 J and then possibly FF.”
“Yes, Sir. But the car would have been speeding away from you by that point,” Bear commented.
Hunter adjusted his glasses, stared at his papers and frowned.
Mackay brought the meeting to a close by commenting on the good work Bear and Tim had done, and allocated the day's workload. Hunter signalled to Tim, and the two of them left the incident room to go and find Arjun Mansoor. Jane left with Mel to revisit Edna Hope.
“Hamilton,” Mackay indicated the DC should follow him into his office.
John Hamilton found himself standing in front of the desk like a naughty schoolboy.
“Hamilton, I have heard that one of my officers used cocaine at a recent social event. Have you any information that would assist me to identify the individual?”
“No, Sir.”
“You were noted to be acting very strangely by other colleagues at Tim's recent flat-warming party. What caused that?”
“Just enjoying a night out, Sir.”
“Indeed. You were very quick to make life difficult for Tim Myerscough about his father's problems, and suggest he should resign. However, you are unable to assist me in respect of an officer who, themselves, may have broken the law in a way that would require their dismissal on grounds of misconduct, or might even result in corruption charges. Am I to read anything into that?”
“No, Sir.”
“Do you know that cocaine is known to have been taken at Tim Myerscough's recent flat-warming party?”
“Yes, Sir.” Hamilton blushed.
“By whom?”
“I couldn't say, Sir.”
“You don't know, or you don't want to say?”
“I couldn't say, Sir.”
“Hamilton, you are walking a very thin line. That will be all, just now.”
“Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.” John Hamilton turned on his heels and left the DCI's office. He headed straight for his desk and called Arjun Mansoor from his personal mobile phone.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Tim and Hunter got out of the car and wandered into the showroom of Thomson's Top Cars.
Tim glanced around. “Any of these would be more comfortable than Sophie's Fiat 500, Boss. I really do like good quality cars. They are beautiful, aren't they?”
“I'm happy if mine gets me from A to B, so perhaps we could stick to the business in hand?”
Tim appeared not to hear.
“I think we're going to need a bigger car. I fancy that.” He began browse the showroom while the DI went over to the desk to track down Mansoor.
The receptionist smelled of peaches, and Hunter thought she looked about twelve. She seemed more interested in the game of Candy Crush on her phone than she was in dealing with the man in front of her. The girl cursed softly under her breath as the timer at the end of her game indicated that she would have to wait eight minutes before the game could restart.
“Bad luck,” Hunter commiserated. He showed her his warrant card. “Is Mr Mansoor available? My colleague and I would like to ask him a few questions. He may be able to help us.”
The girl phoned through to her boss, whilst Hunter called to his DC, “Tim, are you finished drooling over those cars?”
Tim turned on his heels and walked quickly over to the desk. The girl looked at her switchboard, then up to find Tim standing in front of her too. She smiled broadly and flicked her hair behind her ear. She spoke directly to Tim.
“Arjun is on the phone. I'll let him know you are here when he comes free.” She looked at Tim and clearly liked what she saw. He smiled at her. “What's your name? So I can tell him.”
“DI Wilson and DC Myerscough,” Hunter said firmly.
“Don't you get bored just sitting here all day, Jenny?” Tim asked, reading her name badge. “A clever woman like you could do so much more.”
She blushed. “Maybe a bit.” Jenny giggled.
“Do you know Frankie Hope?” Tim asked.
“Not really, he's one of the Saturday boys. I work Monday to Friday. But his dad got run over last week, didn't he? He died. Such a shame. I ordered the flowers for Frankie's mum from the showroom. Is that why you're here?”
Tim smiled. “We just hope Mr Mansoor can help us with a wee word. Does Frankie ever borrow any of these fine motors after he's cleaned them?”
“I don't think so. He's just a boy! That would be a laugh.” Jenny sniggered behind her hand.
“I suppose it would. Is Mr Mansoor free now?” Hunter noticed the lights on her switchboard were all out, indicating her boss was off the phone.
“Oh, yeah, sorry. Mr Mansoor, two cops here for you. Can I send them in?”
Before she had stopped speaking a door at the other end of the showroom swung open and Mansoor called the officers over. He instructed Jenny to organise coffee for the three of them and ushered the officers into a starkly-furnished room that had floor-to-ceiling windows on three sides. Only the wall with the door in it was solid. Hunter guessed there was very little that went on in this business that Arjun Mansoor did not know about.
Tim took out his notebook while Hunter settled down to ask the questions.
Mansoor agreed that his car had not been stolen, but that a friend had borrowed it while he was on holiday. “A slip of the tongue, officers. It was a friend. I would happily have lent the car, if I had been here. My wife and I were on holiday in Portugal. The Algarve.”
“Which friend?” Hunter asked flatly, refusing to take the holiday bait. He could not remember the last
time he’d had a foreign holiday. Maybe when Cameron graduated he might have the extra cash. Hunter went on. “You were seen arguing with Edna Hope the day before you withdrew your complaint.”
Mansoor shrugged, but said nothing.
“But you do know Edna Hope?” Hunter asked.
“Of course. Her brother is my business partner here.”
“I understood you are the manager and Mr Thomson remains the owner?”
“Well, let's say I look after things while he is otherwise detained,” Mansoor smiled. “I did some business with Edna's husband too. A tragic loss, Billy.”
Neither detective considered it necessary to make any comment about Billy Hope. Mansoor clearly knew more than he was saying. Slippery wretch, Hunter thought.
“I know your father too, young man.” Mansoor looked at Tim.
“He is an MSP and the Justice Secretary,” said Tim. “Most people know of my father.”
“Few know him as well as I do. He and I do business too. He likes his cars and has other quite specific needs. You look very like him, but taller and younger. Maybe I can assist you sometime?”
“Most people I know look younger than their fathers,” Tim replied sourly.
“Your car was damaged, but you didn't press charges?” Hunter said, taking up the baton with a slight shake of his head and frown at Tim. “We are concerned it may have been involved in a hit-and-run accident. Do you know when it was used?”
“Not precisely. It was returned the day after I got back from holiday, but I don't know exactly when my friend used it. They needed a big car for something.”
“How did they get the key?”
“I keep all my spare keys here. All my friends and business acquaintances know that, I should imagine. I have done so for years. Ever since I went into business with Ian Thomson.”
“Does the registration number P559 JIT mean anything to you?”