Windsor Place

by Russell Robertson

  First, they had to dump the car they had stolen earlier that day at the airport.

  Chapter 25

  There were not many fishermen as keen as Mark Ladd who regularly fished at Aberlady Beach no matter the weather. Today was bitterly cold. The rain was fair stoatin off the ground as he wandered through the dunes towards his favourite fishing spot. It was unusual to see another car parked there at that time in the morning. It made him unhappy that he may not have the beach to himself.

  The landscape he had known since he was a little boy seemed rather empty without the massive chimney towers of the old power station that had been demolished a few weeks back and had stood majestically on the point for over fifty years. If that was progress they could stick it.

  What suddenly grabbed his attention was the gathering and squawking of the local seagulls in an area to his right just of the pathway. This was unusual, perhaps there was a dead rabbit or an animal or a bird in distress. He wandered over to see what all the fuss was about.

  As he approached, the birds scattered all over the beach and as he entered the small clearing he saw the reason why.

  He fumbled with his mobile phone as he dropped to the sand and sat in the grass dunes and called triple nine.

  Shaking uncontrollably, he conveyed to the operator that he had just found a body that appeared to have a gunshot wound to the head. The policewoman got his name, current location and told him to stay there until the police arrived. She also told him not to touch anything and they would have a team there within minutes.

  Spencer was on his way to the local bookies shop when he received the call to come into the station at once, pick up PC Gordon and get out to Aberlady Beach where they had recently dispatched an ambulance and two squad cars.

  “Anyone reported missing in the last twenty-four hours?” he asked the duty sergeant as he entered the station.

  “Two. A teenage girl from Wallyford but she turned up this morning after an all-night party; parents not very happy. The other is an elderly man from Longniddry who did not return home from a game of golf last night. His daughter rang in around nine last night.”

  “Any other contact from the family?”

  “They rang in this morning about seven to say he still hadn’t come home.”

  “Sounds like we might have found the poor sod.”

  Chapter 26

  Blair was on time for the next meeting, in fact he was the first person to arrive. He appeared to be setting a new trend. Unusual for him but greatly appreciated by the others.

  They gathered in the CAOS room and Alex asked the first question.” What are your thoughts to date Harry?”

  “Given all the information on the table, my theory is that Alf Hunter had his family killed in a way that it would look like a professional hit from one of his competitors as a pay back. I think that Reginald Buchanan knew something that was detrimental to Alf and that was the reason he was taken out, cleverly trying to make it look like suicide. I think that it will be near impossible to prove who the hit-men were and Alf will probably have them disposed of by someone he trusts to clear his tracks. I also suspect that he is confident that the police wouldn’t suspect him of being able to organise this from within the walls of Saughton Prison.”

  “I think that is more than a theory, Harry. I think you could be on the right track,” Alex said.

  Harry agreed. “He is one of the most callous, viscous and sadistic criminals Edinburgh has ever had. Even worse than that lowlife Tam Sexton who ran the drugs scene for the last thirty years in Edinburgh. Thank God, he has joined Hades in Hell.”

  Blair joined in, “Where is the evidence to suggest it was not a suicide? You also assume that there is more than one perpetrator.”

  Harry reminded them all of the possible connections of Reginald Buchanan and the bullet wound to the right side of his temple.

  “That information is not in the public domain? How did we learn of it?”

  “You should know better than ask for sources, Blair.”

  Blair looked straight at Alex but said nothing.

  Harry of course could not let them know that a friend inside the police force had given him that information and they would respect that.

  Alex asked. “So, you think that Alf Hunter would be callous enough to murder the children as well as his wife and then have her solicitor bumped off?”

  “Absolutely no doubt at all in my tiny mind. Remember one of the girls was his, the other was not”

  Everyone looked stressed and somewhat tired. It was time for a coffee break.

  Blair being the old-fashioned type offered. “I’ll make the coffee, where’s the scullery?”

  Alex and Harry both laughed to themselves. Bless him. He was a classic.

  Harry pointed to the closed kitchen door. “You’ll find the coffee on the top shelf of the larder, sugar is in the bottom shelf, biscuits are in the bread box and the milk is in the ice chest,” he said, taking the piss.

  Blair ignored their sense of humour and stifled laughter and proceeded towards the kitchen.

  As they settled down to their coffee and biscuits, Harry kept the meeting moving along. “Alex, can you bring us up to date with what we talked about on our last phone call?”

  “Sure. It would seem that Atlas Design which is a Dundee based development company has a few nasty layers hidden underneath its corporate front. It has been busy developing some of the larger development projects in the Glasgow area over the last few years and has now switched its attention to the more lucrative east coast market and in particular the shorefronts of Portobello and Musselburgh.”

  “Who are the nasty layers that you refer to?” was Blair’s question.

  “Well, the Dean brothers for one and possibly a deal struck with Alf Hunter allowing them access to his patch for a cut in the profits. And let’s not forget the drones.”

  “What connection is there to the case Alex?”

  “Not sure at this stage, but where there is smoke there is fire when Alf Hunter and the Dean brothers get involved.”

  They all nodded in agreement.

  Harry’s next direction was to Blair “Will you talk to your contacts and see what else you can find out about Crawford Mills social activities and any dubious cohorts that he may associate with. I feel that somewhere he may be tied up in all this.”

  “Consider it done.”

  “Alex, can you see what else you can dig up on the Dean brothers?”

  Harry summed up “Many paths lead to Rome, let’s see how we all go over the next few days and then we can set up another meeting.”

  They all agreed and said their goodbyes.

  Chapter 27

  PC McDonald and PC Blackie were dispatched to the Buchanan residence which was situated in the sleepy hollow of Longniddry in East Lothian to break the sad news to his family.

  The doorbell was answered by a young man. “Hello. My name is Xavier. My mother and sister are in the back lounge. Please come through.”

  They removed their hats as they followed Xavier through to the back of the house.

  “Mummy, the police are here to talk to you.”

  Mrs. Buchanan was sitting in the kitchen being consoled by her daughter.

  “Do you have any news on my husband? It is not like him not to contact me. Maybe he is in hospital. He’s probably had a small accident, maybe sleeping right now. Have you checked all the hospitals?”

  PC Blackie had drawn the short straw to inform Mrs. Buchanan and her family that a man had been found dead at a local beach and Mr. Buchanan’s wallet was found on the body.

  “Mrs. Buchanan, we think that the body discovered on the beach may be that of your husband.”

  “How can you be sure? You don’t even know my Reginald.”

  “Mrs. Buchanan, your husband’s wallet was found on a body located at a nearby beach this morning and his car, an Audi, registration number 59 REB, was found unlocked a few metres away.”

  She sat motionless for a f
ew seconds then started sobbing, repeatedly calling out his name.

  This was the part of the job that none of the police staff welcomed and it was hard not to feel sad for the family.

  Her daughter, Irene, gave her a big hug and whispered something in her ear that seemed to settle her down.

  “We are so sorry, Mrs. Buchanan, but we will need you to come to the mortuary to identify your husband. We have another car waiting outside. It would be a good idea if your daughter were able to accompany you.”

  As they were preparing to leave PC McDonald pointed over to the open hall cupboard “Are those your husband’s golf clubs?”

  “Yes. One of two sets he has.”

  She started to sob again.

  “PC Blackie will accompany you and your daughter in the other car, Mrs. Buchanan.”

  Chapter 28

  Everyone knows that most people have a huge distrust of solicitors. You can count on it every time a survey is completed. Solicitors generally rank slightly above politicians, real estate agents and truth-shy journalists on the short honesty ladder. This leads humanity to the understanding as to why there were only seven wonders in the world. The eighth wonder would have most definitely been two solicitors agreeing with each other!

  Scully and Spencer had the same feelings as they prepared notes before their interview with Crawford Mills from Buchanan Mills & Gordon

  Crawford Baker Mills was the junior partner at Buchanan Mills & Gordon where “Everest” had been the most senior partner. An ambitious young fellow with a wild imagination and flamboyant character who did nothing to hide his homosexuality, cocaine habits or the title of queen of the young gay fraternity in Edinburgh.

  His upbringing was you could say through the proverbial silver spoon. His parents were both QCs with his future assured in the legal profession.

  Educated at Fettes College followed by five years at St. Andrews University, Crawford was groomed at the family legal business for the senior partner role after his father Sir Langley Mills QC retired, but this never looked likely to happen.

  However, the business still earned him a good enough salary to be able to afford his own private estate in the prestigious area of Longniddry, just a few miles down the coast from Edinburgh and nestled amongst some of the finest links golf courses in the world.

  His mother, Francoise Mills, continually tried to straighten him out as mothers do, but his rebellious nature allowed her to fail miserably. All the same she still loved him, which was more than could be said of his father before he passed away after a short illness two years ago.

  He loved his mother but she stood between him and the vast inheritance awaiting him.

  Scully and Spencer had left the station early on Monday morning to drive down to inform Crawford Mills of his senior partner’s death and at the same time formally interview him.

  The drive to Longniddry was a scenic route following the coastline south which was meant to magnetise and mesmerise the tourists but the Scottish weather ensured that never happened.

  As they drove through Musselburgh a call on the mobile interrupted their silence.

  “Scully, here.”

  He listened intently.

  “Thank you for that. Keep me posted.”

  “What was that about, sir?”

  “I’ll fill you in later.”

  ‘Stuart House’ was a large grand estate spread over two hectares and sat on the northern outskirts of the town. Spencer pressed the large bronze bell at the entrance to the estate and after the formal introduction with the security guard the wrought iron gates slid silently open.

  The drive up to the house to say the least was impressive. One could hear the crushed gravel distorting beneath the tyres as the gorgeous gardens and manicured lawns slid peacefully by.

  “Not a bad little house. Wonder if the owner would let us rent it for our Xmas party?” DI Spencer joked as they approached the mansion.

  “What and let our rowdy mob trash it? It would be a tragedy to spoil such a serene surrounding. I think we should stick to The Foresters. Remember, these people are born with a silver spoon in their mouths and privileges that they are unaware they inherited.”

  Crawford Mills stood at the front of the building waiting to greet the guests. He was a tall young man with Hollywood looks. His thick wavy blonde hair fell to his shoulders. Any more waves and he would be competing with Portobello Beach.

  His complexion was of a natural creamy appearance and his eyes were shifty but sorrowful. Somewhere in his early thirties, he was casually attired in beige corduroy trousers and a brown cashmere sweater.

  He gave the impression in his stance that he was strong, very precise and extra cool.

  “Good morning, gentlemen. Please come in to the lounge. Coffee is ready to be served.”

  The inside was old-fashioned but very stylish with oak panelling surrounding the walls and beautiful antique furniture carefully positioned in the room. The old grandfather clock ticked away quietly in one corner while a small Georgian table in the other corner hosted the coffee and biscuits.

  Massive balcony windows afforded a magnificent view over the front of the estate all the way down to the man-made lake and the entrance gate.

  “Gentlemen, please take a seat. How can I be of assistance?”

  Scully did the introductions. “My name is DCI James Scully and this is DI Craig Spencer.”

  Scully was cut short.

  “I take it your call early this morning has something to do with the horrible crime last week at Windsor Place?”

  DI Spencer replied, “Not really, sir.”

  DCI Scully took charge.

  “Mr. Mills we regret to have to inform you that your business partner Reginald Buchanan was found dead yesterday morning and at this early stage it would appear he may have taken his own life.”

  “Oh, my God! Where? Why? This is dreadful, what can I say?”

  “His body was found on a beach at Aberlady by a local fisherman. Mr. Mills, we need to ask you a few questions that may help us in our investigation.”

  “Investigation? I thought you just said it was suicide?”

  “Sir, I said it would appear that it was suicide. All suspicious deaths are investigated and especially when the deceased had connections to the triple murder last week at Portobello.”

  “Of course, I should understand, just shocked at the news. Everest dead. I can’t quite come to terms with that. He had so much going for him. Senior partner in the business, four lovely grandchildren, wonderful wife and family, I don’t understand.”

  He moved across to the small table “How do you like your coffee gentleman?”

  “Milk, no sugar for me,” DI Spencer replied.

  “Same for me,” said DCI Scully.

  “When did you last see Mr. Buchanan?”

  “I think it was on Friday afternoon in Lulus wine bar in George Street.”

  “You think?” DI Spencer asked.

  “Yes. It was definitely in the pub on Friday after work. I noticed him as I left. He was sitting chatting to the young receptionist at a table next to the bar, I don’t think he was there when I arrived.”

  DCI Scully pressed on. “Sir, when did you arrive at Lulus and when did you leave?”

  “I left the office at six o clock, so I would have been in the pub at about ten past six. Had a couple of wines with work colleagues and left around seven-thirty.”

  “Before we leave we will need the names of the colleagues you just referred to and did you leave on your own?”

  “Sure. I left on my own and walked to the Cask and Barrel Pub in Broughton Street and met a friend there at around quarter to eight.”

  “Who may that be, Mr. Mills?”

  “An old school friend of mine, Cameron McFarlane.”

  “And how long did you stay there?”

  “Well, we had a couple of drinks, a quick snack and Cameron drove me home. I think we got home around ten-thirty.”

  “Quite early for a Fri
day night. Most young people are still out on the town at that time.”

  “We had planned to watch the rugger replay on the television and have an early night as we planned to drive down to Gullane early in the morning for a game of golf.”

  “Mr. McFarlane stayed the night, did he?”

  “Yes, as a matter of fact he did and he also stayed on Saturday evening as well. Is that a crime?”

  “No, Mr. Mills, just trying to ascertain if you had someone who could vouch for your movements from early Friday evening through to Sunday morning, it would seem that you may well have. We hope to confirm that when we talk to Mr. McFarlane.”

  “If you would be so kind to give his contact details to DI Spencer before we leave that would be appreciated.”

  “Okay. I will just go and get a pen and piece of paper now or would you rather I email it to you?”

  “Piece of paper will do fine.”

  Crawford Mills left the room and returned a few minutes later with the information as requested.

  “Thank you for your help and we are sorry about the news we had to deliver. We will let you know if we need to talk to you again.” DCI Scully said as they were getting into their car.

  “Sir, if you don’t mind me saying I thought you were a bit tough on him.”

  “DI Spencer, remember the call before we went in to the interview?”

  “Yes sir.”

  “I think this may have turned into a murder enquiry. Buchanan was found with the gun in his right hand but it would seem that he was left-handed.”

  “Really, how do we know that?”

  “It would seem that we have a budding detective in PC McDonald.”

  “PC McDonald, the young redhead?”

  “Yes. When he and PC Blackie visited Mrs. Buchanan to tell her the bad news he noticed a set of left-handed golf clubs in the hallway as they were leaving which he assumed belonged to the deceased and this was confirmed by his wife.”