Windsor Place

by Russell Robertson

  Sometimes he wondered if Siberia had better weather than Scotland. Scottish weather refused to stay the same for a few hours. Meaning … you’re inevitably incorrectly dressed at all times.

  He decided that the balcony would have to continue for today at least with its own company.

  Harry had gone to a lot of trouble to prepare a turkey for the Christmas dinner with his friends and by his own standards he was happy with the result.

  The few decorations he had installed gave the apartment a festive ambience and he hoped that the team could relax for one night and forget about the tragedy and investigation. Maybe the expensive Australian red wine and malt whisky he had added to the dinner table might help.

  The group of four relaxed, enjoyed the moment and the hospitality and didn’t mention the elephant in the room except when Blair went out on the balcony for a smoke and Harry joined him to fill him in on his trip to Fortrose.

  Hamish was already tucking into his greasy bacon and egg roll as Harry arrived late at The Foresters.

  “You look as though you are enjoying that?”

  “Boxing Day special.”

  Hamish wiped away some egg from his bottom lip. “Wondered when you were going to turn up. I see from the newspaper reports that the local police don’t seem to be moving very fast on the case.”

  “Piecing the evidence together in some sort of order in this case could be as difficult as putting Humpty Dumpty together again.” Harry joked, as he looked at the egg on his face.

  “You digging up any useful information, Harry?”

  “Not really, Hamish. People today just want to do their own thing and are reluctant to get involved. I understand that, but it makes for solving crimes today that much more difficult. I also understand the frustration it must cause the authorities.”

  Harry sensed during their conversation that Hamish, while wanting to help, didn’t really have any information that could assist and that he just wanted to support him. That was fine by him and greatly appreciated. Anyway, it would be wrong to get him involved and he wouldn’t want to ask him to do anything that might tarnish his fine reputation in the community.

  Harry ordered a coffee and bacon roll and the friends spent the next half hour talking about their monthly cycle club meeting before they parted company.

  Chapter 51

  A crabby Alf Hunter entered the interview room in the prison not expecting DI Spencer to be accompanied by DCI Scully.

  “DCI Scully. Well, the day of my life has arrived,” Alf mumbled sarcastically.

  “Good morning, Mr. Hunter. I see you still have retained your sense of humour, despite the surroundings,” was Scully’s response.

  “Christmas in Saughton is probably a better place to be than a police station or living under a fucking bridge.”

  “You may be right, but we can go for a beer after we leave here and then have a nice meal finished with a wonderful smooth malt.”

  “And what makes you think I can’t do that in here?”

  Scully had no time for Alf Hunter but he smiled inwardly at his sense of humour.

  “We are here today to ask you further questions in relation to the recent killings of your family and your solicitor.”

  “I do not think I can help you any further, I have told you all I know.”

  “Let us be the best judge of that, Mr. Hunter.”

  Spencer joined the interview. “Seeing everything is hunky dory with you, then you might extend the Christmas spirit and cooperate with us. Then we can get out of the hair you have left and back to being with our families.”

  “Try me out, I might have a change of heart and show some Christmas spirit towards the copper who put me down. Not.”

  “Look, four good people have died. Now you may not give a fuckin’ shit but I sure as hell do. I want some answers and I want them right this minute. What is your connection with the Dean brothers?” Scully responded angrily.

  “We have a business arrangement in property development, nothing more.”

  “We will be talking to them. We trust their story will be the same as yours.”

  '“No reason to think otherwise.”

  Spencer noted a change in the demeanour of Alf Hunter. He was not comfortable with this line of questioning.

  “Mr. Hunter, we have reason to believe that there may be a link with the Dean brothers to the murder of your family.”

  “What would that reason be?”

  “Can’t release that at the moment, but your answers may help.

  “So, what’s that got to do with me?”

  “Well, quite a lot, considering that one of your companies Carbunt Limited is a forty-nine percent stakeholder in Paramount Constructions. The other stakeholder being Atlas Designs.”

  “Nothing illegal about being a shareholder in a company.”

  “That’s correct. But we now know that Jessie Parry is also a shareholder in Atlas Designs and Paramount Constructions.”

  “So?”

  “Well, does it surprise you to know that Jessie Parry is the sister-in-law of Dargie Dean?”

  Alf shifted uneasily in the chair. “Is that a crime?”

  “No, but our financial wizards will be looking into this further and we know that you are familiar with that division, given that they are the ones responsible for you being here.”

  “Fucking Aussies! They should all piss off back to convict land.”

  “Have a happy and prosperous new year, Mr. Hunter, and I promise you that my sole new year resolution is to find the killers of Carole, her family and Reginald Buchanan and put them away for a long long time.”

  “Best of luck on that sonny. Sorry I can’t offer you the same festive wishes.”

  As they drove back to the station Spencer said, “Sir, I think you rattled his cage. He now knows we are on his trail and he might make a mistake. You still think he is involved?”

  “I wish I was as sure of winning the lottery tomorrow night.”

  Chapter 52

  It would seem that PC McDonald’s masterly talents had again been exercised on the entry wall to the main office with a well-known nursery rhyme re-written as follows.

  Humpty Dumpty sat on the wall

  Humpty Dumpty had a great fall

  All the King’s horses and all the King’s men said,

  ‘Fuck him. He’s only an egg!’

  As Scully made his way to Superintendent Ruby’s office for an update briefing he was cornered by Cropley at the coffee machine. “Sir, have you read today’s paper yet?”

  “That’s what I pay you for, Sam.”

  Cropley ignored the remark. “It would appear that someone may have leaked to the press.” He tossed the local paper the Portobello Reporter on the table next to the coffee machine. Splashed across the front page was a photograph of Alf Hunter with the heading:

  “Is this man still running drugs in Portobello and Musselburgh from Saughton Prison?”

  “Go talk to the local reporter and find out where that came from,” Scully demanded.

  He knocked on the door and was asked to enter by Superintendent Ruby.

  “Please sit down, James.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “This case James. It doesn’t seem to be going anywhere fast and we can’t close our eyes, cross our fingers and hope it all goes away.”

  “No, sir.”

  “Are we any closer to finding the killers or a motive for the killings? I assume that we have found a link between the two cases?”

  Scully answered both questions. “Sir, we are pursuing the lines on Alf Hunter and the Dean brothers that have uncovered some financial links. However, we don’t have any concrete evidence to link them to the crimes. Although we are moving in the right direction and in a few days, we should have results.”

  “James, in all my years in the police force, I haven’t heard such a weak bullshit answer to cover up the fact that you really have nothing to report. I thought you would have come up with a much better
line than that.”

  “Sir, the underworld is pretty tight on this and it is hard to get any leads. Too many people inside and outside the prison are shit-scared of Alf Hunter even though he is locked away. They know that his long tentacles still reach far and wide.”

  “And what about Harry Cram, is he in the clear?”

  “At this point we have no reason to believe he was involved in the crimes.”

  “Okay, I’ll give you one more week. If you haven’t progressed substantially by then I’m pulling you off the case before the press starts to ask questions about whether you are too close to Harry Cram?”

  “Sir,” Scully tried to protest.

  “No, James. I won’t discuss this any further. You have one week to come up with some results. Please close the door as you leave.” Superintendent Ruby snapped.

  Chapter 53

  The old prison cells in Saughton were designed to accommodate only two people. So Alf’s cell was a bit over- crowded with the five prisoners including himself squashed in for the meeting he had called. The screws were on notice not to interrupt.

  Alf had invited his team on the inside which consisted of himself as leader, brothers Billy and Kenny White as the lieutenants, Stanley Kerr and his cell mate Murphy Brown as the cookie cutters.

  Murphy Brown was a stand over man who had worked for Alf on the outside and was currently serving a ten- year stretch for grievous bodily harm.

  Stanley Kerr was in for a thirty-year stretch for a triple murder and was notorious for his love of torturing people with knives and hammers.

  Billy and Kenny were known as the terminators. They were Edinburgh’s version of London’s infamous Kray twins; callous gangsters who feared no one. They were in Saughton for their third sentence. This time for twenty-five years for the murder of two underworld figures who had made the mistake of stealing drugs from the Dean brothers.

  Collectively and unchallenged, they ran Ingliston Hall, which housed long-term and protected prisoners.

  “Rumour has it that there is unrest among the natives and that could spell danger. I also hear that there could be a challenge to our control. Anyone got any information?” Alf asked the group as he sat on the bed rubbing his hands together.

  “That scheming little fuckin’ shite ‘Knuckles’ McCarthy is winding up some of the inmates, suggesting that you have been helping the cops recently,” Stanley replied.

  “Is that right? Then we need to show the lads who the boss is. I’m a hunter, not a target. I think we should teach the little runt a lesson. He has to learn to control his inner disabilities and delusions of grandeur otherwise he will become another statistic.”

  “Consider it done.” Was Stanley’s confirmation.

  “And while you’re at it, take Murphy along to deal with his wingman Eric Boyle,” Alf demanded. “They both need to know not to cross Alf Hunter. Can’t have the boys thinking we are going soft. There is one other issue I need dealt with. It has come to my attention that the screw Stewie Howie has been talking with my wife’s ex-lover. I need to know what that’s about. I hope for his sake that the conversation was only about Hearts?

  “Billy, can you attend to that?”

  “No fuckin’ worries, boss. Already sussed it out. He’s only a friend through their association or should I say their obsession with Hearts Football Club. Always sit together at games and have a few pints afterwards. No problems there.”

  Alf finished the meet. “Good. Now get tae fuck.”

  Chapter 54

  The New Year Scottish Cup fourth round derby ended in a boring no scoring draw although in Harry’s opinion Hearts were robbed and Hibs were lucky.

  As they sat in Straddies pub after the match, Stewie’s brother Andy, of course, had a different view. “Jesus Christ, man! Can’t you lot ever take off those maroon-coloured glasses and give credit to the opposition? The Hibees should have won by three.”

  “Let’s agree to disagree, or we may have to step outside and settle this matter on the pavement,” Harry joked.

  Andy laughed out loud. “You and whose fuckin’ army? There would be three hits. Me hitting you, you hitting the floor and the ambulance hitting ninety to the hospital.”

  Andy then decided that to sit any longer with the opposition in a Hearts pub wouldn’t be a good idea. So, he decided at that point to leave and have a pint along the road.

  “Any updates for a struggling journalist?” Harry asked Stewie.

  “As it happens I do. It’s suggested that Alf Hunter agreed to let the Dean brothers in on the Edinburgh property development in return for use of his hit men at any time he required it. That favour could have been called on with the killings of his wife and children.”

  “Any names for the hit-men?”

  “Word has it that it has all the makings of the Mason brothers from Dundee, but near impossible to pin anything on them as they are extremely good at covering their tracks.”

  “And if one wanted to find the Mason brothers, where would one start?”

  “The Troll Inn near Dens Park, home of Dundee Football Club. Seems to be their local as they are mad Dundee fans, but be warned it’s a pretty rough pub. If you are thinking of visiting, I would strongly recommend against it.”

  “Thanks, Stewie. Appreciate your help and yes I will be careful.”

  Chapter 55

  It was late at night when the phone rang. “Is that you Harry?” He recognised his estranged wife from her broken English. “How are you, Zhong Shan?”

  “Harry, your daughter Lilly has taken ill with pneumonia and is in Dongguan Hospital.”

  The cultural differences as well as the language barrier between Westerners and Chinese made it difficult to communicate and Harry’s limited Mandarin didn’t help. “Please text to me the hospital number and I will call them. Please do that straight away.”

  “Okay, I talk to you later, Harry.”

  Dongguan was in Southern China, near the old Canton where Harry had spent a few years living and working after he met his second wife Zhong Shan. His daughter Lily from his first marriage, joined them and worked there; teaching English to the local wealthy Chinese in the translation company that Harry had set up.

  Twenty minutes later he received a text with the hospital number and the name of Lily’s doctor.

  Thirty minutes after that, he had spoken to and received an update from the local doctor on WeChat, which was the Chinese equivalent to Facebook and Twitter. From that discussion, he made the decision to fly out and see his daughter immediately.

  Qantas did not fly direct to China so he booked an open return trip online with Southern China Airlines leaving late the next day.

  Harry picked up his mobile and sent a text to Alex:

  Have 2 fly 2 China tomorrow, will fill u in later

  He needed clothes for a week. So, he packed his suitcase, set out his clothes for tomorrow, showered and prepared for an early night and early morning rise. He had to be at Edinburgh airport at six-thirty a.m. for his connecting flight to Amsterdam where he’d catch his direct flight to Guangzhou China.

  Alex called him later and he explained the situation and advised her that he hoped he would be back in around seven days and asked her to let Blair know what was happening.

  Approval had also been sought and given by the police, for Harry to leave the country.

  He then sent a text to his first wife in Brisbane to let her know the situation. He didn’t expect, nor did he get a reply. Celia had moved on and didn’t really care about her daughter or him. Anyway, he had done the right thing.

  The twelve-hour afternoon flight to China was reasonably turbulence free and he had slept well in business class despite his concern for his daughter.

  Arriving at seven-thirty a.m. local time, he now faced the stressful challenge of Chinese customs – something most Westerners did not look forward to.

  Two hours later after he had negotiated his way through customs he was on his way in the bus to the City of Dongguan
, about an hour away.

  His daughter was in a private room on the third floor of the adequate but very old hospital in the Dongcheng district.

  Lily was asleep when he entered the room. She looked comfortable despite the numerous drips and tubes feeding into her body. He elected not to wake her and settled into the only chair in the room and waited for her to wake up.

  Harry woke up feeling stiff from the flight and the wooden chair he was in. He looked at his watch. He had been asleep for nearly three hours. He glanced up at Lily who was still asleep.

  His no message notice on his mobile phone confirmed once more that her mother was not interested in her daughter’s health.

  Harry decided after speaking with the doctor that it would be better if he went to the hotel, get a good sleep and come back refreshed. Fortunately, the Silverland Hotel was only across the road. It was not five-star but adequate for a few days. Harry had stayed there many times before and had got to know the Filipino manager, who always upgraded him whenever he stayed there.

  He got up early the next morning, had a western breakfast in his room and watched with amusement, the local Chinese TV until it was time to leave. As he left the hotel on the short walk to the hospital he smiled at the fact that the bar that was busy last night was now a garage. That was China for you. Complex but at the same time simple.

  South China at this time of the year was cold at night, getting down to around seven degrees celsius, but rising to a tolerable twenty-three degrees during the day. It was quite comfortable indeed, as he crossed the busy road to the hospital.

  He was greeted by a pleasant surprise when he entered the hospital room and saw Lily sitting up having breakfast.