Windsor Place

by Russell Robertson

  “I’ll make contact in the next couple of days with everyone as to the time of the next meeting.”

  “One last thing. Can I ask who Joltz is?”

  “Just an old friend giving a helping hand.”

  With that, they all dispersed and left Harry feeling content. They were working well as a team and moving forward, hopefully faster than the force.

  Chapter 39

  Harry rang Alex and was met with the usual away from the office greeting. So he left an appropriate message and decided to have a cold beer before driving to his office to collect the mail and meet with his next wage earner.

  His office was located in a first-floor office block in the High Street of Musselburgh next to the Costa Coffee Shop – which came in handy when he needed to take some of his clients away from the bionic ears of Sofie to talk privately.

  “Hiya, Mr. Cram,” was the normal Sofie Monday morning greeting. “How are we feeling today?” She answered her own question. “Better, I hope.”

  “I’m okay, Sofie. How was your weekend?”

  “Aye. You don’t want to know.”

  He didn’t but he knew Sofie well enough and he had a few minutes to spare before his appointment would arrive.

  “Well Mr. Cram, you widnae believe who I bumped into on Saturday night at the social club. You ‘member Jenny Reagan from Ormiston? Well is she a sight for sair eyes? Nae serious partner at the moment and dolled up tae the nineties, I tell you, she was dain ma heid in. Not a pretty sight at all. Anyway, tells me she lives doon the road in one of those posh harbour side penthooses with some hi filutin geyser frae Manchester, wid ye credit that? I think her heid’s mince. And …”

  It was a relief when the next appointment walked in through the front door.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Urquhart. Just got to make a quick call. Sofie will send you in shortly.”

  His mail was set out in his in tray as per normal and his coffee was sitting ready to be poured. Sofie may be a bit of an old sweetie wife but she was organised and carried out her duties in an orderly fashion as well as bringing a smile to Harry’s face most days. Still, he felt sorry for her partner – who didn’t have the advantage of saying goodbye to her at the end of each day.

  It was hard to concentrate on his day job with all that was happening around him but he had learnt over the years that in any crisis it was vital to continue on your daily routine.

  He finished his coffee and penguin biscuit and buzzed Sofie to bring in his appointment.

  Mrs. Urquhart, as she had introduced herself, was a large buxom woman in her late thirties, neatly dressed but a little bit old-fashioned. Her bottle blonde hairstyle was very short and gave her a hardness which made her look much older than she probably was.

  She was very nervous as most females are when they suspect that their partners were paying more attention to someone other than themselves. And, they were also determined enough to spend their own savings finding out what they probably knew was the inevitable.

  Harry had an inkling that this process of catching their partner out was the first step in proving to themselves that divorce was the right road to go down. Although he suspected they had already decided that was the path they were taking when they came to him.

  He didn’t really need another ‘husband playing away from home case’ but he had to think of the monthly mortgage on his apartment.

  He sat through the interview quietly listening to the same old story: Husband or partner coming home late; supposed to be working on some big deal but probably working on the young receptionist.

  He took notes, asked the necessary questions, informed her of his conditions and quoted the hourly rate. He then let Mrs. Urquhart know he would be in touch in a few days. She seemed satisfied with the way the meeting had panned out, didn’t argue with the hourly rate, and left seemingly contented.

  Harry always felt sad for his clients at this point in the process but not as bad as when he had to finally report to them that their partner was indeed “playing up.”

  He was much sadder when he had to tell them that it was someone they knew. That is why he did not always reveal all the sordid findings he uncovered to his clients, male or female.

  “Mr. Cram, there’s a lassie on the phone. Won’t tell me her name. Says she is returning your call and you’ll ken whae she is. She speaks funny.”

  “Thank you, Sofie. Put her through.”

  “Didn’t know you employed the Gestapo as your front line.”

  “Actually, she is my director of first impressions, Alex.”

  “Funny, hilarious.”

  “You working or day off today?”

  “Two rostered days off actually, recharging the batteries and planning to get vertically challenged.”

  “Cool, is it possible to catch up for a coffee this arvo before you hit the grog?”

  “If that means this afternoon, then sure, where about?”

  “How about Caffe Borsa in Musselburgh, opposite Luca Ice Cream Shop?”

  “Is that the place that used to be the Musselburgh Arms in the High Street?”

  “You got it, two-thirty okay?”

  “See you then. Cheers.”

  Harry was busy studying the racing section for the horses due to run tomorrow at the Musselburgh Racetrack and didn’t notice Alex parking outside and entering the coffee shop.

  “You would have a better chance of retiring early if you invested in the lottery rather than dealing with old nags and dodgy trainers.”

  “Hi, Alex. Sorry I was in another world.”

  She looked as radiant as ever and if he had been paying attention to her entrance rather than the form guide, he would have noticed that she did make heads turn. Much to the disapproval of the other jealous ladies in the cafe.

  “Enjoying your days off?”

  “Yes, until you called, only joking. I’m guessing we have some progress otherwise I would be well into my challenge by now. You know, wine is cheaper than therapy.”

  Harry told her about the information he had gathered this morning but not his source.

  “And you want me to accidentally hit the wrong button on the computer at work and inadvertently look at the file to see if the department has any unofficial dirt on Atlas Design?”

  “Suppose you could put it that way.”

  “Might take me more than a couple of days. Can I ask why you don’t just pass this info onto Scully?”

  Harry rubbed his forehead with his index finger. “Because it is not a priority for them as you have pointed out and if there is a connection we need to find out quickly and act fast. The department is not capable of dealing with this in the time span we have. Alf Hunter will, as you know, want to clear his tracks pronto.”

  “You seem sure that Alf is involved, yet we don’t have any concrete evidence.”

  “We don’t have anything that puts him in the clear either, Alex. But I know deep down his tentacles are involved in this.”

  “Fair enough, I’ll do what I can. You know that.”

  “Be careful, I don’t want you getting in the shit with your work.”

  “No problems. You know what they say, ‘when the going gets tough the girls get going’ …”

  They drank their second cup of coffee, chatted idly about the races tomorrow at Musselburgh and how it nearly doubled the town’s population for a day.

  They then left together after Harry picked up the tab.

  “I’ll call you if I find out anything in the next couple of days otherwise I’ll see you on Friday evening at your place.”

  He waited until Alex drove off, gave her a wave and walked towards his car which he had parked conveniently outside the ice cream shop. May as well buy a black man slider. He hadn’t had one in over twenty years and wondered if they still tasted the same.

  They did, but the name of course, had changed.

  Chapter 40

  The Brass Monkey pub in Leith Walk was not somewhere that Harry would have selected for a mee
ting with Raffles but it was his call and his local. Some would even suggest his second home. There was nothing wrong with the pub, just the location. Leith Walk and the surrounding streets were always impossible to find a car park. The landlord was easy going and well known for his lock ins at the weekend which went on into the wee small hours. Only locals were allowed access – no strangers. Except of course the local plods. His investigative nose carried him into the pub.

  He picked a vacant bar stool at the far end of the bar and ordered a half pint of IPA from the barmaid while he waited for Raffles to arrive.

  The barmaid seemed friendly enough even though she had more body rings than Long John Silver and more tattoos than any sailor he had ever seen.

  Her red and blue hair was a stark contrast to her sickly white skin and her clothes looked like they had been personally selected from the local second hand gothic shop. As he stood at the bar sipping his half pint he wondered what the reaction would be when she was taken home to meet her boyfriend’s or girlfriend’s parents.

  The place was reasonably quiet. A group of old fellows were huddled in a corner with their half pints and dominoes. They both looked like they were made last century. A couple of young studs sat at the bar looking as though they were up to no good and an elderly man and woman were arguing about money near the poker machine. Yes, this was definitely Leith. Where else would you prefer to be on a Monday afternoon?

  A hefty pat on the shoulder signalled the arrival of his friend. “How are you auld yin? Mine’s a pint of Tenants lager and get yourself another one while you’re at it.”

  Harry coughed due to his heavy cold.

  “Sore throat sucks, eh, Harry?”

  Raffles moved over to a vacant table and waited for Harry to order the drinks and join him.

  There was a slight kerfuffle going on at the front door as Harry arrived with the drinks.

  “Don’t worry about him. That’s just Ali Khan better known as Sideshow Ali. He’s the mad Orcadian. Totally harmless, virtually lives here. Wanders around singing, ‘I swear to drunk, I’m not God,’ and talks to imaginary people. Never caused one spot of bother in all the years I have been drinking here. Couldn’t organise a piss-up in a brewery and perfectly safe. I think he’s the one that John West rejected and he shops for everything on the five-finger discount.”

  He was the kind of person that was almost impossible to watch, while at the same time hard to tear your eyes away from. You imagined that if he took off his hat and smiled he would have straight hair and curly teeth.

  “Nice place,” whispered Harry. “I love Leith, I love its ugly beauty.”

  “C’est la vie,” replied Raffles.

  “Anyway, I have the names of the Team Alf you asked for. Best not mention their names in here.” Raffles slid over a piece of paper. “They’re in there, don’t know that it will help you much.”

  “Thanks, much appreciated.”

  Harry in turn handed Raffles an envelope. “In there are the names of a couple of local bigwigs and some reasons why I suggest you look into them. I’m sure you’ll find some juicy stories there. But be careful, they are powerful people with powerful friends in high places.”

  “Why are you giving them to me?”

  “I’m not going to be able to follow-up on these at the moment and someone needs to carry on my investigations and nail them. I can’t think of a better person than you to dig up any shit on them. They’re nasty pieces of work and need to be brought to justice.”

  “God be with you Harry. I owe you one.”

  “Cut out the religious crap. It doesn’t suit you. I bet the last time you went to church they tried to drown you. Just be careful, there is a lot of submarine activity going on there.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Let’s say there is a lot going on under the water.”

  Harry finished his drink and left Raffles ordering another. He knew he had Buckley’s chance of getting out of there sober.

  Harry made his way down Leith Walk to Leith Links where he had parked his car.

  None of the names of the prisoners were of interest to him but the name of the non-prisoner was, Nugget Reid.

  Chapter 41

  “Hi Dolly. Long time, no see. This is my partner DC Darling.”

  “DC? Which one are you, dick or c--t?”

  “See you haven’t lost your sense of humour or your wicked tongue,” said DI Spencer.

  “Once you have it you never lose it.”

  The bar near the Playhouse Theatre is not a place you would frequent if you were straight, but that’s where Dolly wanted to meet. He probably felt safe there.

  “Take the weight of your feet gentlemen, and don’t mind my friends. They don’t see many ordinary people in here. I take it you are both straight?”

  “Dolly, we’re here today to talk about the Gaylord.”

  Dolly Dyson was a well-known local homosexual who frequented most of the gay bars in Edinburgh over the last twenty years. He was a harmless creature with a reputation for wild parties and outrageous attire. Needless to say, pink was his favourite colour and his trademark attire was his pink and white striped trousers. He loved his coloured flip flops and his many outrageous wigs.

  “Now that was a place. Fond memories. Pity it closed. The new clubs can’t match the ambience of the ‘Lord’ as it was known then.”

  “What can I do you for?”

  “We are interested in Alf Hunter who owned the club in its popular days. We are also investigating a triple murder and you may be able to help us with our enquiries,” Spencer stated.

  “I would be careful with your title and name as well. You might get taken for royalty, know what I mean, DI Spencer?” He chuckled and witnessed a slight grin on Darling’s face.

  He kept going, “You talking about that terrible incident in Portobello?”

  “That’s the one. Did you ever see Alf Hunter at the club?”

  “I never met Alf Hunter.”

  “Too-ra-loo-ra, too-ra-loo-rye, aye. Come on, Eileen. Do you think we just landed on Planet Earth?”

  “All right, all right. I think maybe once at the opening. Can’t remember ever seeing him again though.”

  “How do you know it was him?”

  “I read the newspapers you know. He is pretty hard to miss, such a big man.”

  “How often did you go to the club?”

  “Let me think now. Any day that ends in Y.”

  “You should have been in the circus, Dolly. When you were at the club did you ever meet any off-duty policemen?”

  He thought for a moment. “No, I don’t think so. Certainly, not any dressed up in a policeman’s uniform. I would have remembered that for sure. Anyway, you lot are too straight for that.”

  “Did you ever see any on duty policeman there?”

  Again, he thought for a moment. “Saw lots of police. There were a lot of raids on the club but there was one policeman I did see there a few times, never thought anything about it. Assumed he was just doing his job.”

  “Can you describe him?” Darling pulled out his notebook.

  “Oh! Are you going to take down anything I say?”

  “Something like that. Please, can you just give me the description?”

  “Well, love, it was a while ago but I do remember his tweed jacket. It seemed so out of place. Old-fashioned, small guy, going bald, can’t remember anything else about him. This is so exciting! Will I be called as a witness?”

  “I don’t think so Dolly. There are a couple of local judges who are known to be a little bit homophobic.”

  “Then they should be handcuffed and locked up,” Dolly sneered.

  “You might be on the money there,” Spencer concurred.

  “If we need to talk to you again what is the best number to catch you on?”

  Dolly gave him a pink card with his contact details and on the back was a quote that read, ‘Are you a gangster of love or a lover of gangsters or both?’

  Spen
cer wasn’t quite sure what it meant but he assumed it was some coded message for the gay community.

  They left to a few wolf whistles from the clientele and some blew kisses.

  As they walked to the car, Andy said. “You know? He could have been describing Sam Cropley back there?”

  “Yep.”

  “What do we do about that?”

  “We keep that to ourselves for now until we find out if it was him and if it was, was he there on legitimate business?”

  “Did you notice his mobile went off a lot and he seemed distracted each time it vibrated?” Andy noted.

  “I did. Maybe he was enjoying the vibration?” Craig quipped.

  “Christ, do we have to have these joints in the middle of town? Can’t they be located away from the mainstream areas?”

  “Careful, Andy, or I’ll have to report you to the homophobic police.”

  “Do you think he was being straight with us?” said Andy, not realising the pun.

  Craig grinned, “Not sure. I think we need to keep tabs on him.”

  They drove in silence to Portobello Police Station to report back to ‘Operation Skippy.’

  Chapter 42

  Harry had been working on a couple of investigations into a major company fraud and a possible bombshell with a local federal politician back in Australia. Both those projects would have to go on hold until this crisis was over. His contacts at the online newspaper, The Guardian, understood his current predicament and backed him all the way.

  The company fraud could be uncovered and exposed at any time and the politician was a long-standing representative and unlikely to be ousted at the next election. So, both could comfortably be put on ice for now.

  He felt that they were getting closer to solving the murder of Carole and her girls. In fact, much closer than the police.

  While he was waiting for his friends to arrive, Harry stood out on the balcony, his mind switching back to his early childhood days in Windsor Place. His memories were all good, albeit limited, due to his age. Laughter, sun, strolls on the beach, seagulls swirling in the sky, his Papa and Nana taking him for walks around sunny Portobello.