Cause & Effect (The Gemini Borders Trilogy Book 3)

by Toni Parks

  TONI PARKS is the pseudonym of Tony Parkinson. This is now my third book, having started the first at the ripe age of 61. As no doubt with other authors my characters have taken on a life of their own making this, the final book in ‘The Gemini Borders Trilogy’. At last I can distill it from my brain and so make room for other thoughts.

  A move to the Scottish Borders after retirement enabled me to put behind me the time consuming period of my life with running a business and to focus more on assisting in the upbringing of my grandson, Tyler, gardening and the thought that perhaps I could write after all. Therefore once again, I have become possessed by the main characters from novels one and two, and taken them on the final stages in their young lives.

  My background is in Advertising, although not in the creative field itself. However, having been surrounded by copywriters and creative designers I hope that I have learnt at least some of their craft by osmosis and so have written this series of thrillers, which could, dare I say it, stand alongside the Scandinavian authors for whom I have the highest admiration.

  I hope you enjoy reading this novel as much as I did when writing.

  The Gemini Borders Trilogy

  BOOK ONE

  BLOOD IS THICKER (2013)

  BOOK TWO DIZYGOTIC TWINS (2014)

  CAUSE & EFFECT

  BY

  TONI PARKS

  PUBLISHED BY

  Published by

  Double Elephant Associates Orchard Cottage, Lanton, Jedburgh Roxburghshire TD8 6SX

  Cause & Effect First published 2015

  ISBN: 978-0-9926261-3-6 Copyright © Tony Parkinson 2015 Tony Parkinson has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work

  A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library This book is purely a work of fiction, except when mentioning the majority of exterior locations. Resemblance of the characters portrayed to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intentional.

  This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or

  otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including recording, information storage or retrieval, without prior written permission of the author

  Love to Jean and Tyler For still allowing me to continue sneaking off and writing when I should be doing other things

  Love and Gratitude to Mum and Dad For steering the family on the right path and ensuring that we stayed there

  Congratulations to Sarah and Jonny Sarah Mills, the daughter of our good friends Geoff and Suzanne, and her fiancé, Jonny McCulloch on their wedding 25th July 2015

  Practical Thanks to: My brother Bryan for copy checking, editorial comments and all things medical; Jean for plot queries and copy checking;

  Sarah Thompson for MAC artwork of the cover; Shutterstock for the cover photography

  Apologies to: Kirk- and Town Yetholm for borrowing their history and tradition, and bending it to suit my purpose

  Cause:

  A person or thing that gives rise to an action, phenomenon, or condition &

  Effect:

  A change, which is a result or consequence of an action or other cause

  Oxford English Dictionary 2015

  PROLOGUE “I’m alive? Yes, I am alive.” Barnham repeated and replied somewhat confused, as this attractive, enthusiastic young woman threw herself at him by way of verifying his present status. A young woman whom he had never seen in his life before, or so he thought? The accompanying DC; a DC Blister, had previously shown him various photos; was this face one of them? A woman, an attractive woman at that who could be the help he needed to speed up his recovery or quite possibly be responsible for doing the exact opposite and totally wrecking his rehabilitation?

  “Hey Miss, I don’t care whether he’s Lazarus returned or not, you can’t go charging through my security scanner setting off all my bells and whistles, without facing the consequences.” The words superseded Emma’s impulsive action by a split second.

  DC Blister was the next to speak. “What’s that he’s saying about being alive?” Whilst at the same time, making a grab for the over tactile young woman.

  “Never mind that, Sir. This lady here has got my scanner all bothered. It’s whirling and beeping its head off,” said the slightly menacing, dark-skinned, muscular, bald headed officer as he incongruously waved his wand beckoning Emma to return to the customs counter, to undergo a thorough search. DC Blister blustered but to no avail. His opponent was big, he was black, he was ripped. Qualities that did not go unnoticed by the ever-observant Emma, either. The only thing preventing her rushing back and tearing his clothes off, or so she considered, was that with dancing around and waving his security wand about he was doing too good an impersonation of the Village People doing a take of ‘YMCA’. But the jobsworth, being a customs officer at Edinburgh International Airport, had a pressing need to follow protocol, and procedure dictated that his must ensure no one brought in any illegal contraband, not on his watch anyway. So watch they did as Emma was guided into a small side room where a female customs officer observed her as she stripped down to her underwear. However, what the officer did not associate was that Emma’s mind, far from concentrating on the embarrassment of the situation, or indeed the likelihood of a tumble with the hulk, was instead racing through her options as to what to say upon rejoining the unexpected welcoming committee again.

  Emma redressed and both left the room with the female officer informing her male colleague that she was clean and that it was more than likely to be the under-wiring in her bra, which had triggered the alarm. “Very sensitive,” she concluded.

  “You’re telling me,” agreed Emma. “They’re proving more and more difficult to contain and ‘sensitive’ is certainly the right word.”

  “I think that’s too much information even if we presume it’s a legitimate misunderstanding. Anything else officer?” replied the hulk or jobsworth, depending on which side of the fence you were perched.

  “Who is in charge here? I’m DC Blister and I need to interview these two ladies on a serious matter.” A statement, which was by and large ignored by the two customs officers as they proceeded to continue ruling their domain. Their search had found one result but that was inconclusive too. Emma had a large quantity of US currency in her possession but puzzlingly enough had not returned on a flight from the States. This in itself was not illegal but it did confuse. When questioned she brushed it off with, “Yes, I tend to carry quite a lot of dollars around. You never know when you’ll get that Disneyland urge, do you? And I presumed the one in Paris would take dollars too.”

  “Well, no it does not, Miss Flynn. It takes euros just like the rest of France. So if I were you I’d keep a tight hold of that bag or it might end up taking a trip without you. You can’t be too careful these days.”

  “Yes, thank you officer. I’m always grateful for good advice.” Neither the officer nor his female counterpart had been too careful as neither registered that the dollars in question had been printed well over thirty years ago and so looked totally different to today’s bills.

  “Is she free to leave now?” asked DC Blister becoming more annoyed with every sentence that was being bandied about. “We’ve a few questions of our own to put to her once I’ve spoken to her companion.”

  “Only too willing to oblige, Mr Blister? Sorry DC Blister, Sir,” replied Emma. “DC that’s in America isn’t it? I bet they have a Disneyland there?”

  DC Blister cut the conversa
tion by saying, “Yes, well we’ll not continue with a Disney marketing campaign or carry on with an on-the-spot geography lesson at present so if you’ll just wait with the officer, we’ll be finished before you know it.” Having said this he instructed the uniformed PC to shepherd Emma to a quiet section of the arrivals lounge so as to allow him the opportunity of talking to Jessica privately. As she was being escorted, Emma glanced across at Jessica for advice; Jessica shook her head imperceptibly and that was all the direction Emma needed. The PC escort began to say, “Now, Miss if you’ll kindly wait here.”

  But Emma immediately interrupted him with, “Where’s my sister going? Why do you want to talk to Jessica? What’s this all about?”

  “Now, Miss Flynn,” continued the PC, “there’s nothing for you to get concerned over. Your sister has kindly agreed to answer a few questions in connection with a line of inquiry that DC Blister is pursuing. DI Barnham, Mr Barnham at the moment, has led us to believe that he knows Jessica and we’re hoping that by linking the two together we might be able to fill in a few gaps. You know like synergy, where two unrelated objects are greater than the sum of their individual parts, effects or capabilities.”

  “No, I don’t know. You’ll have to pass that one by me again. On second thoughts, don’t bother.” Emma said disinterestedly as she observed the other three moving towards a small room; two she knew: Jessica and Barnham, one she didn’t, except by name, DC Blister. Looking at her former lover she could not register any synergy about him whatsoever, even if she had known what she was looking for.

  The DC then entered one of the small rooms normally reserved for body searches and sat next to Mr Barnham and opposite Jessica. He had intended to give deference to his senior colleague but soon realised that the former DI was not capable of carrying out the interview and instead just sat silently looking totally confused. The situation appeared totally alien to the experienced former DI, as he stared blankly from Jessica to the DC and back. “Right, Miss Lambert, Jessica Lambert. That’s correct, isn’t it?” Jessica being tired as well as a little shell-shocked replied in the affirmative.

  “OK,” continued DC Blister, “Sorry for the cloak and dagger stuff, but we’ve been trying to get hold of you for several weeks as your name has been cropping up in relation to various matters that we are looking into as part of an ongoing investigation.” Jessica mentally held her composure but was unsure as to the strength of the colour being created by the warm flush spreading over her cheeks. Silently she studied Barnham’s face, hoping to glean some knowledge as to what information he might have divulged but she only met a rictus grin for her trouble and a look, which indicated total mystification on his part.

  Far from puzzling Jessica, that look put her on full alert, gone was her relaxed ‘good to be home’ feeling as her mood dial flicked over to wariness and caution instead. She had not seen Barnham since he had been killed. Killed by her sister who was now held elsewhere and who had within the last ten minutes confirmed her surprise at Barnham being alive when she thought he was dead. Jessica thought the same too but was more practical as to the reality of the situation. And so held her patience as she waited to hear what was about to unfold before her.

  “Miss Lambert, a Mister Longthorne was murdered several weeks ago in Aberdeen. Do you know of this man? And if yes, were you aware of his death?”

  “Yes to both questions.”

  “Are you able to elaborate on that?”

  “He had initially contacted Emma and subsequently we all

  met up.”

  “That substantiates the reason for her mobile number

  being in the mobile register of the deceased. Can you also

  elaborate as to how you knew of his death and for what reason

  he had paid you a visit?”

  “Well I presume you are aware that Mr Longthorne was a

  solicitor in Aberdeen. Talking of which am I going to need

  one? It isn’t everyday I fly back from abroad and am greeted

  with a police grilling.”

  “Let me assure you Miss Lambert that we are just talking.

  There is certainly no ‘grilling’ going on. I’m just trying to dot

  a few ‘i’s and cross a few ‘t’s, whilst Mr Barnham is here for,

  shall we say, therapy reasons, all in the cause of helping with

  his memory loss. So unless you actually have something to

  hide there is no necessity for a solicitor. Please proceed.” Jessica let out an imperceptible sigh of relief and her

  recently flushed face returned to its natural tanned hue as she

  picked up the thread. “As for his death I saw a newspaper headline in France. It didn’t mention him by name but I just had an awful premonition that it was Mr Longthorne. I don’t know why as we’d only met him the once but it was just somehow the way that he was described. What was your other

  question?”

  “Why had he paid you a visit?”

  “Well, him being a solicitor, it was for both a professional,

  and a rather personal reason but it’s old news now and you’d

  probably find out soon enough. In a round about way my sister

  Emma, set in motion events, which began with Mr

  Longthorne’s visit, us finding out about our parents and

  concluded with the reunion of our Italian relations.” “Well that part of your story is verified according to the

  Italian press, anyway. And reading the news item I must say

  both your sister and you appear to be two very resourceful

  young women. Moving on, I just want to satisfy my curiosity

  in relation to the disappearance of T/DC Murray. As I

  understand it, you arranged to meet T/DC Murray on Sunday

  28th April at your offices of work. Did this in fact happen and

  what was the intended reason for the meeting?”

  “Let me think. That’s a few weeks ago now.” Here Jessica

  looked at Barnham for any sign of recognition but was

  relieved to see that he had either totally lost the plot during the

  interview or was an exceedingly good actor. She continued,

  “Claire, T/DC Murray had previously asked my boss for a

  copy of a file. My boss was having none of it with Data

  Protection et cetera. So I suggested that the T/DC and I might

  be able to get it through the back door, so to speak. Illegal I

  know, which is why it was going to happen on a Sunday.

  Anyway, the T/DC didn’t turn up. I knew she was going on

  holiday that day so I presumed she’d slept in or something and

  decided against the operation. I didn’t take it any further as I

  wanted clarification from the DI here, as to the next move.” The former DI Barnham did not make the next move then

  or the next move now. Both DC Blister and Jessica waited

  patiently for his answer but waited in vain. His brain, his memory and his mind were elsewhere; impulses were sent to activate recall but in place of structured images came a rush of kaleidoscopic outlandish nightmares. Fact had become fiction and fiction became freakish, beyond the realms of reality, really. “Mr Barnham. Mr Barnham, are you OK? Are you with

  us?” asked a concerned DC.

  The DC’s concern was Jessica’s relief. Barnham was not

  play-acting and as long as Emma held it together all would be

  well. She just hoped that Emma’s tongue was not running

  away with her whilst she was waiting.

  “Sorry, what did you say?” asked Barnham of DC Blister.

  “My head was just playing funny tricks on me, but I think I’m

  back with it now.”

  “Glad to hear it. I think we’ll call that it for the moment,

  Miss Lambert. In view of the condition of Mr Barnham we’ll

  also forego the interview with your sister. But one thing


  before you go, did I hear right when Emma first caught sight

  of Mr Barnham, she said that he was alive? Funny thing to say

  don’t you think?”

  “Not funny at all,” replied Jessica feverishly clutching at

  any available straw and lying outrageously as the first one

  came along, hoping that it would not turn itself into a noose

  for her own neck. “We saw an article on the Internet just

  before leaving Italy saying that he’d been found. It’s just that

  she didn’t expect to see him here, that’s all. So seeing him in

  the flesh was like, the icing on the cake, proof of the pudding,

  that sort of thing.”

  “Yes, I suppose news travels so much faster theses days,

  doesn’t it?” replied DC Blister momentarily satisfied. “As

  we’ve detained you so long, perhaps we could offer you a

  lift?”

  Jessica declined as she had no intention of playing Russian

  roulette with a slightly crazy former DI, an over gregarious

  sister and an ambitious DC. So the two parties parted, for the

  present.

  CHAPTER ONE The clarity of the views were spectacular particularly with the added sharpness due to the strong breeze, which ensured that the clouds moved along at pace; and, even if the location for a business meeting was a first, it was somewhat of a conundrum too. Who in their right mind held a meeting amongst the scaffolding between, at a guess, the ninth and tenth floors of a high-rise building? And a high-rise on Guild Street, that their archrivals were building, at that. But Francesco Lucisano was nothing if not unpredictable. It was here at 21.00 that he ordered his two closest colleagues, Hew and Jimmy to meet for a little get-together, which they would later christen as ‘The Summit’, and from where they would finally get to grips with the subterfuge of their grubby but highly profitable world. It was the time for answers and there was to be no escape, nowhere to hide.

  A turf war had been simmering for sometime now and the recent publicity from his homeland wasn’t doing anything to reduce the heat any time soon, if anything it fanned the flames even more. In anger Francesco slapped the paper down hard on a block of bricks as he spat out, “How many ways do we have to be shafted? First we find out that a deal’s been done in Napoli and the division that existed for years has been healed. And now, Eduardo Martini, the new boss, wants to come over and meet, presumably so we can all become best buddies. Well it isn’t going to happen; we’ll never get back the money invested with that bastard Agosti. It took my Papa’s death to close the door on his never-ending search for nirvana, speculating about that lost fortune and all it would be able to achieve. 30 years! That’s 30 years we’ve been looking for that money and still it doesn’t rankle any the less. Oh, they find theirs, don’t they? And what do they do when they find it; decide to split it amicably, pathetic. And now it’s being rubbed in our faces again by being plastered all over the papers. Doesn’t even mention Aberdeen by name; we’re not even worthy of a mention. And that London shower, in the big swanky tower block in Budgie Wharf or whatever it’s called, I hope they don't think they can just waltz up here now we're all buddies, because I’m not having it. I say there will be no peace or reconciliation until we’ve got back what is rightfully ours. And, to add insult to injury, did either of you know about the rogue Camorristi operating on our patch?”