Hunter's Chase

by Val Penny

  Mansoor shook his head again. “I have a nice white Freelander. It is in good condition, but it is old and has a lot of miles on the clock.”

  “Registration number?” Hunter asked.

  “Jenny will give it to you. She has the records behind the front desk.”

  “When was it last used?”

  “I have no idea. I have been trying to sell it for weeks. It may go for the occasional test drive if somebody shows interest. Other than that, it goes nowhere, Detective Inspector Wilson.”

  “But you keep a record of when it is used and its mileage?”

  “Of course, as with all the cars here. We are obliged to be accurate for our customers. You understand.” Mansoor smiled his unsettling smile again.

  “May we have a look at all your light-coloured 4x4s and the records of their mileage, Mr Mansoor?”

  “Why my cars? Are you visiting all the garages in the city, Detective Inspector?”

  “Mr Mansoor, we are investigating two murders and an extremely serious hit-and-run incident that will result in the death of a young mother. Believe me, if my officers have to check every fucking car in this city, that is exactly what we will do.”

  “Of course, I understand. No need to swear. My staff will do all they can to assist.”

  “Thank you, Mr Mansoor. I'll arrange for DC Reid and DC Hamilton to come over and list the vehicles and their mileage records.”

  “DC Hamilton, a most courteous officer.”

  “Tim, will you get the details of the Freelander from Jenny?” Hunter asked.

  ***

  Tim looked at Mansoor's dark eyes. The mixture of distrust and loathing he felt was hard to disguise. This was his father's drug dealer, his father's destruction. Then he shook his head. His father's weakness caused the problem. Mansoor was merely the means to that end.

  Tim clenched his fist. Did Mansoor wink at him? He ignored Mansoor’s proffered hand and left the room without saying a word.

  The journey back to the station was quiet. Both men were lost in thought, until Hunter turned to Tim. “All well with those records, Myerscough?”

  “Yeah, Boss. Well, no.”

  “That seems to cover all the bases, lad.” Hunter smiled and shook his head. “Do you want to clarify that for me?”

  Tim smiled sheepishly. “The Freelander that Mansoor was talking about was fine. However, there was a Range Rover Sport on the same page. It is said to be silver and belongs to Ian Thomson. His personal property. P559 JIT. It backs up what Bear said, but I thought it was interesting that it was on record here.”

  “Very.”

  “Jenny told me it isn’t kept here. Thomson's own personal cars are kept in garages that he has up at Orchardhead Lane. They are included on the register here so insurance, Road Tax, MOT and so on don’t get overlooked while he is inside.”

  “Aye, he used to live up Liberton Brae before he went down and his Mrs went to live in Spain with Lenny,” Hunter mused. “I think they sold the house then, but Ian must have kept the garages. They are separate from the houses, just up a wee lane. I think it might be worthwhile to swing around and check out Ian Thomson's vehicles. I'll get Reid to pick up the keys from Mansoor while he's there and then you can go up.”

  Colin Reid called Hunter from the car showroom.

  “Boss, Mr Mansoor does not keep the keys for Mr Thomson's personal cars. It seems that since Mr and Mrs Thomson went their separate ways, Mr Thomson has left his personal possessions in the care of Mr and Mrs Hope. It seems Mr Thomson and Mr Hope were involved in a joint business venture. Private finance, or lending, or something. Of course, Mrs Hope is also Mr Thomson's sister.”

  “Private finance? Delicately put, Reid. They were money lenders and protectionists, those bastards.”

  “Yes, Boss. Shall I ask DS Renwick to get access to those vehicles from Mrs Hope? She should be there now.”

  “Good idea, Colin. You and John just call it a day when you have got the details of the 4x4s in the showroom. We can get the details from you and from Jane at the briefing tomorrow morning.”

  “Yes, Boss.”

  “You rugby training tonight, Myerscough?” Hunter asked, ending the call.

  “Yep, Boss. If it's okay, I'll drop you off at the station and pick up Bear. We should just about make it.”

  Hunter nodded. “Tell me, how do you two fit into that tiny car of yours? I must come and watch, it must be hilarious.”

  “Thanks very much, Boss. It isn’t my car. It is very fuel-efficient, and Sophie is determined we should have it to save the planet, but between you and me, at the beginning of next year I am planning to get my own car. It will be a lot larger, but a hybrid so I still get Sophie's approval!”

  “That doesn't surprise me, on either count! No wonder you were examining the cars at Thomson's. ”

  Hunter thought a bit of hard physical exercise would do Myerscough some good. The tension in the lad's body was too visible to be healthy.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Lady Sophie Margaret Dalmore was used to getting her own way. The first child of the Earl and Countess of Dalmore, one of Scotland's oldest and most respected families; intelligent, attractive and well-educated. Sophie was the apple of her father's eye from the day she was born.

  Her brother, Geoffrey, might be her father's son and heir, but everybody, even Geoffrey, knew Sophie was her father's favourite. One of Lord Dalmore's weaknesses was beautiful people. Although, like Sophie, Geoffrey was intelligent and well-educated with impeccable manners, and his first-class honours degree easily topped her 2:1, Geoffrey was born with a congenital skeletal abnormality so his right arm had no elbow and was only forty centimetres long. His left arm was even shorter: six long, strong, skinny fingers emerged from a stump attached to his left shoulder. Geoffrey's legs were different lengths making his limping gait awkward and slow.

  Both he and Sophie knew their father loved his two children, but also knew that he liked being seen with his beautiful daughter rather than the one he thought of as his deformed son. The Honourable Geoffrey George Dalmore accepted his father's feelings and understood.

  Somehow the qualified love his father offered was better than the guilt he saw in his mother's eyes every time she looked at him. The cause of his physical abnormalities had never been fully explained. He suffered from a chromosome disorder. He accepted it as the luck of the draw, nobody's fault. Still, his mother bore her burden of guilt every hour of every day. Nobody could take this pain from her, least of all Geoffrey.

  However, it was always to Geoffrey that Sophie turned when things were not going well. He was her strength, her confidant. He understood his sister better than she would ever admit. So, it was to Geoffrey she turned when Tim reacted so well to the announcement of her pregnancy.

  Geoffrey was puzzled by his sister's reaction. “I thought you loved him. You've been together for years, since uni. He shares your flat.”

  “Yes, and I do love him. But I can't give up this chance to work with Father. This enquiry is too good an opportunity to miss. There are very few that involve such high-profile opponents. I need the experience so that I will be taken seriously when Father retires. I want to take over as the 'go to' lawyer for important arbitrations and enquiries.”

  “I agree it's good experience. But there will be other enquiries. Anyway, there is no guarantee Father will retire any time soon. You know that as well as I do.”

  “I know, and he would drive Mother mad if he were around the house all the time. He would have to spend part of each week at the New Club or something. But he has begun talking about retirement, which he never did before.”

  “Oh, I know all that, but the powers-that-be do wheel Father out for consequential arbitrations, enquiries and such matters of importance. It will be a shock to their system when they have to think about asking somebody else. I think Father will be around for a while, whether he, or you, like it or not!”

  “With his high blood pressure, there is no guarante
e that there will be another enquiry before Mother insists he retires for his health.”

  “And two weeks later, she insists he goes back for her health!”

  “You may mock, but she has plans, you know. It's all right for you, Geoffrey: you will have the title, a seat in the House of Lords, and the estate. But I must secure my future in the firm, and being the lawyer in Scotland that the Scottish and UK governments first think of for public enquiries and arbitrations up here would make my life more secure.”

  Geoffrey laughed out loud. “Oh come on, Sophie! You make me laugh! As Tim Myercough's better half, you don't have to lift a finger ever again! You told me that in January, when he turns thirty, he inherits control of the estate his mother left him. You could both live very nicely, thank you, on just the interest from his investments and never touch the capital or need to work again!”

  “I know all that, but that is not my money. Not my future: it's his. This pregnancy is just at the wrong time, Geoffrey. We can have other children when I am ready. Not now.”

  “Tim won't see it that way. You know that. He is devoted to you, Soph. And I can hear Mother now. Are you sure about this baby?”

  “It is not a baby, it’s a foetus. And yes, I am sure. The time is just not right, and it is nothing to do with Mother.”

  “You know I'll support you whatever you decide. But I just do not want you to regret this decision in a few weeks' time.”

  “I know. But what else can I do? I have to get rid of it, so that I can work this upcoming enquiry with Father, properly. What would I do without you, Geoffrey? I’ll go to the clinic and tell Tim that I lost the baby.”

  “Great! Add a lie into the mix. That is a terrific idea.”

  “I thought you said you would support me?”

  “I do. But, honestly, Tim is a decent guy. I'm not sure he deserves these lies as well as losing his kid.”

  “It is a foetus, not a kid!” Sophie screamed at her brother. “My appointment is today. This afternoon. I have to do this while I am strong. Will you come with me? I am not sure I can do this alone.”

  Geoffrey wriggled with discomfort. “Wouldn't Mother be better at women's things?”

  “God, no!” Sophie screamed again. “Don't you understand, nobody but you and Tim knows I am pregnant. Please come with me, Geoffrey. You must come.”

  “I don't have to, but I will, though it’s against my better judgement. If you need my support, you have it, as always. You know that.”

  Sophie smiled at him through big tears. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  Geoffrey sighed. “I just hope you don't live to regret this.”

  Tim and Bear arrived five minutes late for training. The coach insisted on punctuality. So the men were punished with fifty extra burpees: ten for each delinquent minute. This was followed by a gruelling workout: five laps of the pitch, stretching, hopping and jumps, then passing, marking and tackling.

  At the end of training their muscles ached. Tim and Bear clambered into the front seats of the Fiat 500. They looked like gnomes, squashed into the tiny vehicle.

  “When do you get a decent car, Tim?”

  “You can walk if you're going to complain, Bear!”

  “Keep your shirt on! I just have money on you getting a car you can get into without bumping your head, as soon as you can.”

  “You're not wrong,” Tim grinned. “I appreciate Sophie's sentiments about trying to save the planet with an economical car, but I am sure a great hybrid would also do the job. I have been looking at a good BMW.”

  “Sounds good, and more spacious.”

  “I just hate having to struggle into this and out of it, and doing any shopping with both of us in it is just hopeless! I plan to speak to her about getting a family style car now she is expecting. That is going to be my excuse when Mother's money comes through in January.”

  “Exciting times, my man, exciting times.”

  The flat was so dark that Tim nearly tripped over Lucy, who had run to the door and wound herself around his ankles. Tim switched on the light in the hall and shouted for Sophie, but it was clear there was nobody there. He picked Lucy up and tickled her behind the ear in her sweet spot that always made her purr. She purred so loudly that it made Tim smile. He thought how much like a motorbike she sounded.

  “How's my pretty girl? Sophie is late home. Have you not been fed?”

  Lucy continued to purr into his ear as he held her close to his face. Tim gently loosened his grip on the pretty Persian Blue and she leapt elegantly to the floor and led him through to the kitchen. “Come on then, little one, let me get you fed and then I will give Sophie a call and find out when she will be home.”

  Tim watched Lucy eat as he pulled out his iPhone and dialled Sophie's number. The call went to voice mail, but just then he heard Sophie's key in the lock. Tim was surprised to see Geoffrey with her. He smiled at the other man. Then Tim's expression changed as he looked at Sophie.

  “What is the matter with you, pet? You look terrible.”

  “I think I have eaten something that doesn't agree with me. I am so sore and feel very tired.”

  “Luckily I was at the office to speak to Father, so I was able to see Sophie home.”

  “Why are you so late, honey? Why didn't you come home earlier when you felt so poorly?” Tim lifted Sophie effortlessly and kissed her head.

  “Please can I just go to bed, love? I feel miserable,” Sophie said quietly.

  “Of course, pet. We have to take special care of you and our baby.”

  Tim picked her up and laid her on the bed, placing her head gently on the pillow. He kissed her softly again, then he removed her shoes, loosened her belt and pulled the duvet over her to keep her warm.

  He left the room and turned to Geoffrey.

  “She looks awful. When did this come on?” he asked.

  “Not long ago, I think. Must have been a problem with her lunch, I suppose.” Geoffrey blushed.

  “Will you join me for a bite to eat, Geoffrey? I think I have pizza or pasta in the freezer,” Tim said in a distracted way. He was worried about Sophie.

  “No, thank you, Tim. I have a council meeting to prepare for tomorrow. I will leave Sophie in your capable hands.”

  Tim kicked the front door shut behind Geoffrey. He liked the man, but was so concerned about Sophie and the baby that he was glad not to have to make polite chit-chat. Tim warmed up a pizza from the freezer and downed a cold bottle of Budweiser.

  His muscles were sore after the rugby training, but he felt better within himself for having endured the exercise and physical sport. He ran himself a hot bath and soaked his aching legs until the water went cold. Then he went to bed, cradling Sophie gently in his arms. She had fallen into a deep, restless sleep long before Tim joined her. Lucy curled up in the crook of Tim’s knees, and soon all three of them were asleep.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Mel rang the doorbell as she and Jane arrived at Edna Hope's door. Jamie hopped to answer.

  “Hey sweetie! You didn't take long to find me. Miss me?”

  “Hello Jamie.” Mel sighed. “Is your aunt in?”

  “You think we need a chaperone?”

  “You wish!” Mel glanced at Jane and smiled.

  “Jamie?” said Mel. “Are you gay?”

  “Me? You crazy? You know better than that!”

  “Well I am. So just stop trying.” Mel smiled over to Jane.

  “You led me on!” Jamie said sulkily.

  “I don't think so, Jamie.”

  Jamie grimaced at Mel, but stood aside to let them in.

  Jane felt her phone vibrate silently in her pocket. She answered it as Jamie ushered her and Mel into the Hope’s living room.

  Edna was sitting in a reclining black leather chair and cradling a large mug of tea. Jane glanced at her and wondered how the woman did not spill the liquid. She was drinking it at a very awkward angle over her large bust. Still, looking at Edna, it was clear she did not often miss her mo
uth.

  “Sorry, DC Reid, what did you say?” Jane asked Colin.

  “Jane,” Colin said, “John and I have just gone through the cars listed at the showroom run by Arjun Mansoor. Apparently, he has a couple of cars on his books that are not kept at his showroom.”

  “Really? Where are they? Actually, Mel and I have just arrived at Mrs Hope's house. Can I call you back after we leave?”

  “That’s just the point, Jane. The cars belong to Ian Thomson, they are not business assets. Mansoor claims they are kept at Thomson’s private garage on Orchardhead Lane. His sister, Edna, has the keys for access. Mansoor told us that they are only on his books for insurance and MOT purposes.”

  “Ian Thomson's cars need an MOT? Surely not!”

  “What you on about?” asked Edna.

  “Well, one of them does. His favourite old-style Range Rover.”

  “Oh?” Jane caught Mel's eye.

  “Silver. His first car. Registration P559 JIT. Ask the weeping widow about it, will you? The Boss says you and Mel are to get the keys and go and take a look, then let him know what you find.”

  “Okay, DC Reid. I'll speak to Mrs Hope about that. It is a very difficult time for her, but I am sure she will be willing to assist us, if she can.”

  “What was all that about?” Edna asked again as Jane put her phone away.

  Mel sat down as far from Jamie as possible. Jane sat close to Edna, to ensure her body language was not threatening. However, she soon regretted that. Edna leaned on the arms of her chair and extended her elbow to lift the left hand side of her body from her chair and balanced her weight on her arm. The woman wriggled in her chair and lifted her left buttock. Unselfconsciously, Edna trumped loudly and released a noxious gas. It did not take long to reach Jane. She gasped. Edna Hope appeared not even to notice, but Jane felt embarrassed for her. Jamie laughed loudly.

  “Oh man! That was a good one, Auntie Eddie. You nearly let that one off in the copper's face! I never felt sorry for a polis before! That's so funny! Ha, ha I'm so sore. Oh help! I haven't laughed so hard in ages.”