The house at that stage was owned by Papa and Nana and his mum and dad and two sisters lived on the ground floor of the house. He shared a bedroom with his sisters.
He never understood why they moved from there to a smaller house in Straiton Place.
Later in life, he learned that his grandparents sold Sixty-Six Windsor Place, went on a cruise around the world and bought the new house when they returned. Today we would call that downsizing.
The intercom pinged and brought him back to the present as Alex and Blair climbed the stairs and joined him in the CAOS room.
“Blair, do you have anything for us?” was Harry’s opening statement.
“Well, I did a bit of twisting of arms and pressing of flesh with some old contacts but it would appear that no one wants to talk about Alf Hunter. It seems that he has put the fear of death into the underworld.”
Alex joined in. “My info is that Alf Hunter and the Dean brothers have struck a deal. The Dean brothers have been allowed into Edinburgh to help Alf Hunter continue his drug business and in return the Dean brothers supply the drones to deliver the drugs to the prison where Alf controls the supply. Neat little arrangement and the investment in the property company funds the drone company and ensures future supplies to other prisons.
Proving that may be an issue but at least we have something solid to work on. It also means that the Dean brothers are not directly involved in the killings. So, it’s down to Alf Hunter. We need to find out what his motive was?”
Harry concluded. “Why did he have his wife and their daughters killed and who did he hire to carry it out? Did the same people also take care of Reginald Buchanan?”
“If those assumptions are correct then someone on the outside had to organise all this. Find that person and we find out the truth,” Blair said.
Alex was in a hurry to leave. “I have to skedaddle. Curtis and I have a train to catch to Pitlochry. Catch a play at the theatre, followed by a romantic dinner and an early night before a late rise and train back to Edinburgh mid- morning.”
“Who’s the romantic dinner with?” Harry teased.
“Aye, away wi yae, see you on our return,” was Alex’s parting comment and comical attempt at the Scottish language.
“Pitlochry … I thought that was well-known for newly-weds or nearly-deads. Which one are you guys?” Blair pitched in.
Chapter 43
The drive down to Gullane on a nice day was very pleasant and only interrupted by the noise of the hourly high-speed train from Edinburgh to London. Harry timed it so they would miss the train as it only took forty-five minutes to drive down there.
The drive was set up to memorise and magnetise as the coastline could have you imagining you were in the south of Italy, but it was missing the two main ingredients, surf and weather.
Long high grass dunes protected the numerous beautiful sandy beaches and there were only minutes in the entire drive that the ocean was not visible.
This part of the world hosted many quality golf courses including three courses at Gullane and the world-famous Muirfield which is often used for the British Open.
Harry picked up Blair at his home in Joppa as arranged at six on Saturday morning complete with backpack, laptop and golf clubs. He was running behind time as usual and Harry sat in the car waiting for him as the hourly high-speed train zipped past.
“Did you remember the malt whisky?” Harry asked as Blair dumped his clubs and case in the boot and dropped into the passenger seat.
“I’m extremely disappointed you had to ask.”
“I’ll take that as a yes, then.”
The traffic was quiet as they drove through Musselburgh, past the race course and took the Port Seton turn off at the roundabout beside the popular Mrs. Forman’s pub.
Suddenly Harry panicked. “You got the vouchers for the Greywalls Hotel?”
“Rack off. Seems that your trust in me is fading. Relax, they’re in my wallet.”
The vouchers were for two night’s accommodation and four rounds of golf at Muirfield. Blair thought it might help Harry forget about his troubles for a while.
Greywalls Hotel is surrounded by some of Scotland’s finest golf courses, in fact there are a total of twenty-two within a ten-mile radius. Located next to the Muirfield golf course it offers special packages to play on what was recently voted the best golf course in the world and as a non-member it is the only way you’ll get to play on this exclusive course. The membership wait is around five years and you need to be nominated by five current members, not an easy task, but that’s the way the old school liked it.
There were many picturesque small villages to drive through on the way and all with property prices out of reach of the average person.
“Looking forward to a great weekend of golf. Are you ready, Blair?”
“I was born ready.”
They checked in at the reception. “See you on the first tee in twenty minutes, Harry.”
The rooms in Greywalls were luxurious like the rest of the complex.
One of the other things they liked about Muirfield was the fact that some retired policemen from Edinburgh worked there as security. That made them feel comfortable and no doubt they were responsible for the sign that greeted you just outside the Pro Shop: ‘Members will refrain from picking up lost balls until they have stopped rolling.’
They stepped up to the first tee, a long par four with a narrow fairway and small green. The flagstick was positioned at the rear of the green and looked like it had no friends.
After a long drive down the left centre of the fairway, Harry’s two iron landed on the front of the green adjacent to Blair’s three iron.
Two putts each from there left them pleased with their start to the round, but things went downhill from there. Still they enjoyed their golf and each other’s company as they eased their way round the course in more than a few strokes over their allocated handicaps. It was a tough course that left them pleased with their efforts and ready for a nice meal and a few relaxing after dinner drinks.
The nineteenth hole was crowded with weekend hackers and some good golfers mixing with members enjoying the seaside air as well as the surroundings.
The cost of the golf and hotel was extremely expensive but it kept out the commoners and Harry and Blair relaxed and wondered what the poor people were doing.
“Blair, isn’t that Jim Scully’s boys over at the bar?”
“It sure is. That means that Jim and Moira are here as well. Going to be a bit hard to avoid them over the weekend.”
“You’re right. Here they come.”
“Good afternoon. boys. The course been good to you?” Moira asked as Jim went to the bar to say hello to his sons.
Harry greeted Moira. “Have a seat.”
“Thanks. Jim will be over shortly.”
Moira offered her condolences, “Harry, so sorry to hear about what happened. From my experience of losing someone close I can assure you that time is a great healer.”
Harry thanked Moira for her thoughts just as Jim arrived from the bar.
“Can I get you two nomads a drink?” Was Jim’s introduction.
“Only if we don’t talk shop.”
“Suits me.”
“Then we will have two glasses of Laphroaig. No ice please.”
“Moira?”
“Can I have a small Sav Blanc?”
“Quite a coincidence all of us being here on the same weekend. When are you guys heading back?” Moira asked.
We’re here for another round tomorrow and then we’ll drive home early Monday morning.” Blair answered
“And you?”
“Tomorrow morning unfortunately. We have a barbecue to go to at lunchtime.”
“There we are. Two whiskies, one white wine and an orange juice for the driver.” Jim returned with the drinks.
“What’s your handicap these days, Harry?”
“My golf clubs actually, Moira.”
“I see the tropical s
un in Australia hasn’t affected your sense of humour.”
They all laughed together.
The next twenty minutes passed slowly as small talk was made. The case made the situation abnormal as it stifled their conversation as well as their friendship. But thankfully that would only be temporary and would be back to normal when the case was solved.
“You dining here tonight?” Harry asked.
“Actually, we are. What about you guys?”
“We have decided to go to the local pub up the road. Seemingly they serve a great meal and on Saturday have a folk singing group.”
Blair realised that Harry had just made that up on the spot to save everyone any further embarrassing moments at dinner.
“Well, no doubt we will be meeting on a formal basis next week, until then.”
“Have a nice dinner, Moira. I look forward to getting back to some sort of normality sooner rather than later Jim.”
“Touché.”
Jim and Moira left and Blair whispered. “Quick thinking my man, but now we will have to go to the folk singing. By the way, how did you know the pub had a band on tonight?”
“I didn’t.”
“I don’t think we’ll need anything to eat until tomorrow after that breakfast,” Harry said driving with one hand and texting with the other as they made their way back on Monday morning.
“We won’t need any more food ever again if you don’t concentrate solely on the driving. You should be showing an example as an upholder of the law.”
Blair was right and he discarded his mobile phone.
They drove in silence until Blair asked, “You remember after we got back from the pub last night you said because it was a full moon if I looked out my hotel window I would be able to see Bass Rock?”
“Yep.”
“Well I did, for twenty minutes but I didn’t see it move an inch!”
Harry grinned. You could always rely on Blair’s warped sense of humour for a laugh.
The weekend was a welcome relief from what was going down and Harry felt that the batteries had been recharged. He guessed this had been Blair’s motive in suggesting the weekend away and it appeared that his friendship with the Scully family was still intact. Which was a huge bonus.
He dropped his good friend off at his home before driving on to his apartment for some personal reflection and a hot cup of coffee.
Chapter 44
“Thought you would appreciate these,” Harry said as he passed over the unopened carton of cigs to Sandy Hall.
“That’s smashing, really appreciated.”
“How was your Christmas, Sandy? They treat you okay?”
“Food was great, company was shit. You got any dirt on Alf fuckin’ Hunter?”
“Not really, except we think that he could be in cahoots with the Dean brothers from Dundee.”
“You are saving me a lot in toilet paper as you are doing the job for me so to speak. Dangerous bastards that lot.”
“Anything else you can tell me that might help our cause in nailing Alf Hunter to the wall.”
“As a matter of fact, I think there is someone that could help you. Talk to Crawford Mills, the solicitor, he has information on Alf Hunter that will help you.”
“What kind of information?”
“If I tell you that, I would be doing your job for you. Didn’t you tell me that you were an investigative journalist?”
“Give me a clue,” Harry coaxed.
“If you were looking for a crooked cop then look to the one who could be a farmer.”
“What?”
“Ah, to see or not to see.”
“Tranent Nursing Home keeps me safe. If I tell you anymore, I could be in trouble. Now if anyone asks, you are visiting me as on old friend, that’s all. However, if you are still struggling in a couple of weeks, I think the cigs will have run out by then.”
Harry liked the old guy and although it was frustrating, he understood his strategy although sometimes his logic was illogical.
What did the old fellow mean by the crooked cop could be a farmer? He hated riddles.
Driving back through Musselburgh could be slow on any afternoon, so he decided to drop into Quality Foods Butcher in the North High Street and pick up some meat and Scotch pies and say g’day to Pete.
Chapter 45
Harry had set aside a couple of days to follow Marty, the husband of his client Sandra Urqhuart.
As always, he started his task with tracing his target’s steps between finishing his work and getting home. This was the most likely time to achieve a result if there was anything dodgy going down.
Seafield was a light industrial area situated on the seafront, only a few miles north of Portobello. On a miserable day like today, it felt like the coldest place on the planet.
Sitting in his car with the heater on full blast outside the panel beaters, he waited until Marty left the premises and drove his car in the direction of home. That disappointed Harry but experience told him he had to follow him anyway.
It was now raining lightly and the traffic was heavy which helped and also hindered him in his surveillance.
They drove straight on through Portobello towards Musselburgh through the peak hour traffic. Then suddenly instead of taking a right at the Ship Inn pub, Marty veered left. Maybe he was going to pick up some messages. He needed to stay close to him and within a couple of minutes he drove down the ramp into a shopping centre car park.
The car park was busy and Harry parked only a few spots from where his target had and followed him discreetly up the stairs to the shops.
Just before he reached top of the stairs he quickly turned his reversible jacket inside-out and donned the hat he kept for these occasions. His pretend limp along with the other changes, made him look like a different person.
Marty had settled himself in a corner table in the cafe’s open area in the courtyard and Harry conveniently placed himself in the kebab shop directly opposite, ordered a kebab and a cup of coffee and waited.
Within five minutes, Marty was joined by a tall, scruffy-looking male who sat opposite him. The conversation between the two seemed to be very animated and then the stranger passed over a medium-sized package to Marty, who in turn, passed over a small envelope that would have most certainly contained cash.
Harry had seen many drug swaps large and small and this was typical of a small-time dealer delivering his goods, probably crack with the user making payment.
Marty was typical of the local small-time criminal in Musselburgh. They invented the swagger that John Wayne took on, gave Colombo the idea for his dress, the Big Yin his humour and the Kray brothers their attitude. They were a toxic mixture of danger and stupidity and most people – wary of their hardness, complexity and explosiveness – gave them a wide berth at all times. The criminals mistook this display of caution as fear and terror. Most of the time they stood on rain-soaked street corners or outside pubs glaring at anyone who dared to look their way.
Mostly they were harmless but sometimes troublesome, and more often than not, comical. In fact, some of them were so daft that you were sure they were swaggering around wearing an invisible sandwich board that said, “Kick me I’m stupid.”
Marty let his dealer leave, waited a few minutes and then paid for his coffee and strolled towards the car park followed at a distance by Harry. But he walked past his car and up the ramp into the High Street and entered the bookies shop only a few metres away.
Harry pretended to window shop and only had to wait a few minutes when his target re-emerged and made his way back down the ramp.
After he followed him to his home, Harry drove back to his apartment. He was driving against the peak hour traffic so it would only take him ten minutes.
He smiled to himself as he sat at the lights at Joppa looking at the advertising poster to his right.
On his way to Musselburgh he had noticed the advertising poster with an image of Jesus Christ and in large black print below was the message �
��Jesus is the answer.’
Some clever dick in the space of half an hour had written underneath, ‘What was the fucking question?’
Chapter 46
Harry was nervous at meeting up with Jim. He shouldn’t be. They went back a long way but the recent horrible crime made it difficult for both. They had agreed to meet up socially before the next formal interview as they both felt it was important to talk.
Caffe Borsa was the venue, the current owner had spent a lot of time and money in redecorating the interior and they served great coffee, croissants, and baklava filos.
It was a bit upmarket for most of the locals but they were gradually being won over and business was growing quickly.
Harry had got to know the owner Luke Thomas quite well and he ran a monthly tab which suited him as Sofie was continually on his back about paperwork. And more importantly he had imported vegemite from OZ especially for him.
Mid-morning was less busy and that suited Jim and Harry.
As Harry sat near the fireplace he could see Jim parking his car out the front and heading towards the cafe.
Jim greeted him with caution, “Hiya, been here long?”
“Just sat down, would you like a coffee or a tea?”
“Tea will be fine and a bacon roll would also be in order.”
“Two teas and two bacon rolls please, Luke.” Called out Harry.
“Right away Harry.”
“Been a crazy year Harry. Only a few weeks away from two thousand and sixteen. America and Russia bombing the same targets in the Middle East. A madman running for the American presidency. Oil prices at record lows and Leicester City sitting top of the EPL. Who would have thought? And they say climate change is real.”
“Aye, and so is Santa Claus,” Harry replied.
Jim seemed nervous which was understandable given the circumstances. They both knew it would take more than what was currently happening to break down their long bond.
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