Scully’s officers were also in attendance trying to keep a low profile at the back of the crowd, as were the men and women from special branch.
Harry stood next to Carole’s sister Joanne, and as far away from Alf Hunter as he could but he could feel his eyes drilling into the back of his head.
The minister began the graveside service just as some light rain started to fall, as if a sign from above had been given.
It was a dark day indeed for Harry, burying the love of his life and her children.
He stood at the graveside feeling that the last few days were just a terrible nightmare. He had love in his life but now he only had love in the dark.
Funerals were certainly not Harry’s favourite pastime and he took the opportunity to look around to see who else he knew at the service. There were the usual family and friends but he was surprised to see a few petty criminals paying their respect to the family of their former boss or colleague. Harry wasn’t interested in them, although some of the detectives who were there might be.
There were of course many people he did not recognise and that was normal at any funeral gathering.
The sermon from the minister was hardly inspiring but to the converted it would satisfy them.
“We are here today to show love and support for the Hunter family, so tragically taken last week and to seek and to receive comfort. We also acknowledge that our hearts are heavy over this matter. It is human nature to want to understand everything now, but trust requires that we lean and rely on God even when things seem unclear.
“I’m not going to tell you not to cry or not to experience emotions. Emotions are God-given. They are a part of who we are.
“Jesus himself said, ‘Blessed are they that mourn, for they shall be comforted.’ Tears are the safety-valve that God built into us to help us at times like these. It’s okay to cry.
“I’m not going to tell you today that you’ll never have questions come to you. But I will tell you this. There is something wonderful that you can focus on. Choose to focus on the things you know … things the word of God declares.
“We say that they have departed but God says that they have just arrived.”
The usual prayers were said and the service was then ended as the white doves were released and the final song, Time to Say Goodbye, was played to a sobbing congregation.
The minister concluded the service at the same time as the rain lifted.
The strange thought that suddenly struck Harry was the fact that only metres away from where Carole was laid to rest was the Kings Manor Hotel, where they both socialised in their teens. In those days, it was known as the Milton Hotel or the Milton Hilton by the locals.
Harry guided a distraught sister and her partner to the car that would take them to the wake.
The wake was held at the Ravelston Hotel in Musselburgh. Although Alf Hunter would not get the opportunity to sample the obligatory sandwiches and sausage rolls as he would now be on his way back to the safety of his cell. The Ravelston was a grand old hotel with a private area on the first floor for functions like this. Downstairs held the bar and bistro which was full of locals.
Harry was being polite mixing with various family members and close friends, listening to the conversation slowly creeping from staid and upright to a more sentimental and laid-back tone as the drinks flowed. Then he noticed a young man heading in his direction. A strange-looking character. He reminded him of Inspector Gadget, complete with an oversized coat, stupid hat, dodgy moustache and totally uncoordinated body movements.
He offered up his right hand. “Mr. Cram, my name is Finlay, Finlay Bishop. I used to date Carole’s sister Joanne before she gave me the flick. Just wondering if you have any idea who was responsible for all this?”
“I would have thought that question would be better directed to the police, rather than to me.”
“Perhaps, but I think you will be more interested in finding the killer?”
“Surprised that an ex would be invited to the funeral?”
“Oh, I became a family friend as well. I also knew Carole in my role as a junior solicitor at Buchanan Mills & Gordon and met her many times at various functions.”
He had got Harry’s interest. “You still work there?”
“No, I resigned a few months ago. Working for a much larger firm now and loving it. Must admit I learned a lot from Crawford Mills, he is a good solicitor and no, I’m not gay.”
“Did you ever work directly for Mr. Buchanan at the firm?”
“Not really.”
“Did you ever meet one of their clients, Alf Hunter?”
“No, but I knew of him, saw him a couple of times when he visited the office. There is something I would like to text to you. Would you mind giving me your mobile number? Think it may help you greatly in your investigation. We can talk again later?”
Harry obliged and was now very intrigued in what he was going to text.
“Nice to meet you, Finlay, and I look forward to meeting again.”
The wake was now drawing to a close and it was time for Harry to make his exit. He said his goodbyes and booked a taxi to take him home.
He needed to be alone tonight with a bottle of Laphroaig malt whisky.
Chapter 33
The week after the funeral, Finlay Bishop rang Harry early one morning. “You feel like meeting for a coffee today? I have got some more info for you, but not over the phone.”
“Sure. Where were you thinking of?”
“How about the Beach House Coffee Shop in Bath Street, not far from your pad. How about we meet around lunchtime?”
“See you then.”
“I will send you the text I spoke about at the funeral shortly and explain what it’s about at the meeting so we don’t waste any time.”
Harry was surprised and angry that he knew where his flat was. He would quiz him about that later.
About fifteen minutes later Harry received a text message directing him to go to Crawford Mill’s Twitter account and to read the tweet he posted regarding M&S around a couple of weeks ago.
The tweet read ‘Garden special on today, go shop at M&S’
What the hell did that mean? He would find out shortly.
He had a quick shower, threw his dirty washing in a not so neat pile in the corner of the bedroom, got dressed and sat out on the balcony with a fresh cup of coffee and a mind that was spinning in all directions.
There were never many people brave enough to weather the North Sea breezes at this time of the year on the beachfront. In fact, he could only see two poor souls walking their near frozen mutts on the beach.
He gazed out over the Forth and swung his thoughts towards the cruise ship that was leaving for a midwinter cruise, probably on its way to Scandinavia. Boy, what he would give to be a passenger but the wind and reality kicked in and he finished his coffee and went inside.
The Beach House Cafe was actually part of his apartment complex on the ground floor on the promenade and Finlay was sitting in the corner recess near the entry at a small table for two engrossed in some paperwork when Harry arrived.
“Good to see you again Finlay,” he lied
“Likewise, Mr. Cram, take a seat.”'
“You have me intrigued with your clandestine tweets, Finlay. Please tell.”
“Couple of years back I was working with Crawford Mills on a litigation case for a developer against the council. No big deal but one day as we were sifting through some records together, Crawford had to leave the room to meet with another client. I continued searching the records when a text arrived on his mobile that he had obviously inadvertently left behind. Being the type of person I am I had a quick glance at the screen and saw part of the text which said. ‘Go to my Twitter account for the latest shopping special’.”
Finlay paused as the waitress came over and took the order for one black tea and one latte.
“Hence your text to me earlier?” Harry picked up.
“Correct. Later that
evening I looked at the tweets and sure enough there was one that said, ‘Garden special on today, go shop at M&S.’ I didn’t think much about it although I was curious, then I remembered who the text was from.”
“And?”
“It was from Dolly Dyson, an old gay who still did a bit of work for Alf on the outside. I had no idea what it meant, but me being me I was determined to find out as I guessed it had to be some sort of coded message.”
“Still doing work for him, the lying little toe rag,” Harry blurted out.
“What?”
“Nothing. Carry on. I’m all ears.”
Finlay glanced around the cafe to check that no one was listening in. “Well, it had me. I couldn’t work it out, then one day I overheard the receptionist saying, 'Mr. Reid, Mr. Mills is unavailable at the moment. Can I take a message?’”
“We had a message pad which we all checked when we came back into the office. So, while I was reading my messages I had a sneak look at Crawford’s, there was a message for him from Mr. Reid saying, ‘he was going shopping and will call back later’.” The only Reid I knew was Nugget Reid a very clever local thug who was thought to be on Alf’s payroll.”
“I’m listening but I’m not getting it.”
“Well I sat down after work and put two and two together, the M&S were the Mason brothers first name initials. We had represented them on a few occasions. At this stage I hadn’t worked out what ‘special on today, go shop at M&S,’ meant but it was obviously some sort of coded message.”
“Why are you telling me all this? Why not tell the police?”
“Because it wouldn’t do my career any good, would it?”
“You have a point there.”
“Anyway, I trust that you would pass the info over to your pal DCI Scully, then he would have to take it seriously.”
“Maybe. I’m still listening.”
“Now, I was hooked and had to find out what was going on. It could even help me bring down Crawford Mills and that would be one less challenger to my future progression to eventually becoming a QC. I don’t like the way he does business, he has no ethics and gives the industry a bad name and I think he is involved in some underhanded dealings with Alf Hunter.”
“My, we are ambitious, aren’t we?”
“Anyway, a couple of days passed by when I got the next clue. I had been checking his Twitter account daily. Nothing came up that seemed odd until one day I read “Garden tip, bring in the Stones for drainage’. That was followed a couple of days later with ‘Garden tip, bury all seeds in one location.’”
“That it?”
“I can’t make head nor tail of these tweets. But I’m sure they have some coded meaning and could be connected to the events of a couple of weeks ago and maybe your connections could come up with some answers? I can assure you Crawford Mills has absolutely no interest in gardening except for digging up dirt on people.”
“Bit like yourself, eh?”
“That’s how the corporate ladder works.”
Harry knew that there was something here but casually said, “Finlay this could all be in your imagination or there could be some truth to what you've just said. I will get my contacts to look into it and yes, before you ask, your name shall not be mentioned. You have my word.”
“Then that’s that for now. Keep me up to speed, Mr. Cram, and if you need any more dirt on Crawford Mills then I’m your man.”
“Thanks, Finlay. Appreciate your interest, good luck in your career.”
They shook hands and Finlay left.
As Harry was waiting to pay the bill he was thinking. What a nasty little piece of piss, bit of a lonesome loser and a bottom feeding hypocritical bastard, but he realised that he could also be very useful.
Chapter 34
There were never many changes at the city morgue but the recent uniform switch from dark green aprons to light blue was welcome and hopefully was the first sign of making the place a bit less clinical and more welcoming for the public as well as for the staff.
Mortuaries have a reputation of being dark eerie buildings inhabited by morbid characters but mortuary technicians are just like everyone else who work hard to ensure that the victims and their families are dealt with dignity and compassion.
Dr Tenant and his assistant, Marianne Vaughn, were busy methodically preparing for the start of the post mortem.
Marianne was a warm distraction and helped soften what was a traditional cold and misty winter’s day in Edinburgh. The invited guests sat behind the screen watching the proceedings about to unfold as she smiled and gave them a small wave.
A standard post mortem would normally take around thirty minutes but this would not be a straightforward post mortem.
At the conclusion of the post mortem, Dr Tenant spoke quietly into the overhead microphone mainly for the required taping and the benefit of the two detectives behind the glass.
“A post mortem examination of the body of a 58-year-old Caucasian male identified as Reginald Buchanan was performed at the medical examiner’s office on the morning of the thirtieth of November 2016. The examination was conducted by Dr David Tenant.
“In the performance of their usual and customary duties, Autopsy Assistant Marianne Vaughn and photographer Maureen Scott were present during the autopsy. Also present were DI Craig Spencer and DC Sam Cropley of the Scottish Police.” He nodded and acknowledged them in the gallery.
“The body was received clad in black pants, Arran sweater, brown collared shirt, white underwear, black socks and brown shoes.
A silver metal hoop-style earring was in the right earlobe. A yellow metal band ring was on the left ring finger. There was a city morgue identification band around the left wrist and the right big toe. The body is that of a well-developed, well-nourished adult Caucasian male; two hundred and twenty pounds and six foot five inches tall, whose appearance is appropriate for the stated age of 58 years. The body is cold. Rigor mortis is present.
“The scalp hair is blonde, two inches in maximum length. The nose and ears are not unusual. The teeth are natural and in good repair. The tongue appears normal. The neck is unremarkable. The abdomen is flat. The upper and lower extremities are well developed and symmetrical, without evidence of clubbing.
“Identifying marks and scars include a small surgical scar in the right lower abdomen.
“There is no evidence of medical intervention.
“There is evidence of a gunshot wound to the right side of the head.”
This was all the officers needed to know and they quickly exited the viewing area and vacated the building.
After the examination was completed, the mortuary technicians eviscerated the body. They removed the main organs for the pathologist and then reconstituted the body before washing and wrapping the victim in a fresh shroud.
Chapter 35
After the initial media briefing the second one was unlikely to be a walk in the park. It had been moved to a larger room due to the intense public interest in both cases. The newspapers were having a field day since the suggested possible link between the deaths of Reginald Buchanan and The Baxter family became public. Headlines such as, The Evil in Humanity, Prison Games and Solicitor Slaughtered, had wetted the appetite of the public. Which is exactly what they were meant to achieve.
The superintendent had decided that numbers were needed at the conference to give the impression that all hands were on deck on these matters.
In attendance were Superintendent Ruby, DCI Scully, DI Spencer, DS Darling, DS Cropley, Royce Brownlie and three police constables which added a nice balance and the perception that all levels of the force were deeply involved.
The recent discovery of the body of Reginald Buchanan had fuelled speculation that both murders were connected and the press would pursue this with unrelenting vigour. As was highlighted by the first question.
“Reginald Buchanan was the solicitor for Alf Hunter. Does this mean that there could be a link to the other murders?” Was the op
ening question from one of the local journalists from the Portobello Reporter, Max Blinkhorn.
DCI Scully opened the response from the police. “Max, thank you for your question but speculative questions like that are not going to be answered as you would know.”
Blinkhorn continued. “Then can you tell the public, was Reginald Buchanan also the solicitor for Carole Hunter?”
He was a clever journalist and knew precisely how to ask questions to draw answers.
“At this stage, we cannot confirm that is the case.”
“Does that mean that you are ruling it out?”
“We are not in the game of ruling in our out, we only deal in facts.”
“Then is it a fact that Harry Cram was an intended victim at Sixty-Six Windsor Place?”
“That is not a fact in our investigation to date.”
DI Spencer intervened. “Now Max, I think you've had a fair go. Any questions from the other reporters?”
The next question stunned all the police in attendance.
“Joanne McCarthy from the Glasgow Herald. Is there any truth to the rumour that the Dean brothers from Dundee are involved?”
Scully bounced back quickly. “We are not aware of the involvement of the people you mentioned.”
“Then are you aware that it has been suggested that the infamous Mason brothers were seen in Edinburgh around the time of the murders?”
Scully needed to stop this line of questions. “Look, let me make it very clear, there are certain pieces of information that we need to hold back in any investigation to ensure that we don’t give any advantage to the perpetrators '
“I take it that is a yes,”
“No, you cannot take it as a yes. We make no comment on any matter or lead until we make positive verification. So, we cannot verify your question.”
DCI Scully was getting edgy. He could hear the superintendent whispering in his ear. “Bring this to a head James, now.”
“Ladies and gentlemen, if there are any further questions in relation to the murder of Reginald Buchanan then we are happy to assist but we won’t be answering speculative questions about third parties. This media conference is to explain to the public and the media at what stage the investigation is at.”
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