“Harry, how long have you lived here?”
“Going on two years. I love it here. So quiet and close to all the amenities”
“I agree, it’s great for me. I work quite late some nights and it’s only a fifteen-minute drive from the city centre. Suits me to a tee.”
“I see from your business card that you are a financial analyst. Sounds interesting?”
“Can be extremely interesting and can be boring but rewarding when you get results. What do you do for a crust Harry?”
“I am an investigative journalist. Been doing that for what feels like a lifetime.”
“Sounds much more interesting than my job. Do you do much travel?”
“Only locally, but I have lived and worked in Australia and China for many years before settling back into sunny Scotland.”
“Hmm, sounds very exotic and dangerous.”
“Not really.”
Skye continued. “When I get some time off, which is not often, I try to get away for weekends as much as possible. I have an apartment in Gullane and go down there whenever possible. I find the walks on the beaches and the sea air help recharge the mind, so to speak. What do you do to relax?”
“Golf is one of my hobbies. In fact, I am actually playing down at Gullane this weekend.”
“What a coincidence. I am going down there this weekend as well. Why don’t we meet up after your golf and perhaps we could have dinner together?”
Harry was a bit taken aback at the early proposition, however he thought why not. He did need a break from all the things going down in his life.
“Sounds like a good plan, I’ll be finished around five. Where do you want to meet?”
“How about I book a table for six-thirty at the Greywalls Chez Roux restaurant?”
“Look forward to it.”
Skye finished her coffee. “I have to leave. I have a meeting with one of my girlfriends in half an hour.”
As she got up to leave, Harry took the initiative and returned the earlier greeting by giving her a peck on the cheek.
Golf and dinner afterwards with a beautiful young woman. Saturday could not come soon enough. He was stoked and couldn’t make up his mind if she was practically sensational or sensationally practical.
Chapter 62
Brian ‘Nugget’ Reid was given his nickname for his love of gold which was displayed for everyone to see in his earring, eyebrow stud and rings that adorned both hands. He was a tall man; reasonably good-looking and with a posh Scottish accent due to his early years living in South Africa where his father worked in the gold mines. No doubt, that’s where he gained his love and obsession for everything gold that always accessorized his immaculate dress.
Private schooling and a university education, set him apart from nearly all the criminals in Scotland. He liked that.
Crime came to him by accident when he found an envelope containing an uncrossed cheque for five hundred pounds made out to a Brian Gill.
Changing the cheque to read Brian Gillespie and depositing into an account he had opened in that name made him quickly realise that crime can pay. Once the funds were cleared he withdrew the money and closed the account. Intercepting cheques in the mail and altering them became his modus operandi.
Each year the crimes became larger and more daring. Mixing with the underworld, he quickly came to understand that if he wanted to become Mr. Big he would have to get involved with the top criminals in town. He latched onto Alf Hunter’s team and worked his way up to being his second in charge in only a few years. This of course brought him to the attention of the authorities but he was clever and kept himself clean. No serious charges had ever been laid against him. Only a couple of misdemeanours like traffic fines and driving while under the influence. Nailing him to the drug scene was like trying to hold on to a puff of smoke for the police.
The meeting with the Dean brothers was set up by Alf and the message was for Nugget to let the brothers know that everything in the prison was under control and it was business as usual. However, Nugget knew that the Dean brothers were getting nervous and he saw this as a once in a lifetime opportunity.
An unpopularity contest between two sets of dangerous criminals.
Dargie and his brother Hastie were nasty-looking characters who really didn’t care about their appearance or anyone on the planet. Their sole purpose in life was to amass as much cash as they could illegally and anyone who got in their way was dealt with swiftly and accordingly. The mad Mason brothers from Dundee carried out all their dirty work to their instructions. This was a huge deterrent to anyone thinking about crossing them.
The meet had been set up in the back room of the basement at Diane’s, a grotty, cheap pool hall located in the West End of Edinburgh where you can be pretty much guaranteed to have your game interrupted by petty criminals trying to flog you anything from dodgy DVDs to drugs. The mind boggles as to how it got its name after a female as you would be hard pressed to meet one in there. Locals describe it as the unofficial Ground Zero of Edinburgh’s seedy underbelly. Both parties were accompanied by their strongmen as necessary backups in case of any disagreements.
“Dargie, I have dealt with you and your brother for over two years now and to date I think you would agree that the association has been trouble free. Given what has happened to Alf recently, I don’t think that he can keep up his part of the deal. I am here today to offer you the opportunity to continue working with me instead of Alf. I have been in touch with our Chinese contacts and they’re all sweet.”
“What about the men in Alf’s team?”
“That’s fine, I have them all on side except those in prison but you have my assurance that the supply chain will continue on as usual.”
“What about the property development partnership?”
“I am seeking advice on that as we speak and that should be sorted in the next couple of weeks. Alf will fight this, but inevitably he will realise that he can’t run this properly from now on and I will cut him in on a small part of the deal so he doesn’t feel that all is lost. All the more for you guys.
“As far as everyone is concerned it will look like Alf is appointing me in charge due to his ill health and that keeps his rather large ego intact. It’s really all about who gets the cushioned seats.”
“Seems like you have everything under control. Okay we have a deal, subject to you sorting out the property development partnership. Let’s meet again in a fortnight and then we can make it official.”
Dargie offered his large grubby hand and Nugget accepted it reluctantly, Hastie didn’t. They then turned around and left the room.
Nugget felt satisfied with the outcome of the meeting and the way he had performed.
Fireworks were always a strong possibility when Nugget Reid met any underworld figure. His next meeting would be no different as he prepared to meet with Dolly Dyson.
Although he didn’t consider himself homophobic. He was uneasy mingling with gays.
He had less of a problem with a mental picture of two women together, but he was disgusted by the thought of two men having sex.
Anyway, Alf had asked him to meet with Dolly Dyson and that was what he would do. Nugget was born and bred in Portobello and his choice of the meeting place was to be in Musselburgh, where he was also respected. The destination was the beer garden of the Volunteer Arms, known locally as Staggs on North High Street. Dolly was sitting outside in the beer garden, ideal for discussing matters quietly. He was dressed down today. Instructions given to him by Alf Hunter to make himself less obvious.
Nugget pulled up a chair, threw his overcoat over the back of it, said hello but did not take up the offer of a handshake.
“You been here long?”
Dolly also had no time for the man opposite him. “Just a few minutes. Your timing was good.”
Nugget dispensed with any formalities. “Alf wants to know why you haven’t been to visit him recently.”
“I've had a very bad flu this past mo
nth, didn’t want to pass it on. Planning to see him next week, now that I’m feeling brighter.”
Nugget thought at that moment, “You can’t legislate for stupidity.”
“I’ll pass that on to him. I’ll cut straight to the chase. We are making some changes in the organisation and the powers to be have decided that it is time that you officially retire and enjoy your remaining days with your gay friends. They would like me to pass on their appreciation of your services and loyalty over the years and for that you have no dues.”
The waiter came over with the sushi that Dolly had previously ordered.
“What about a fork and knife?”
With his strong Scottish accent, it sounded like he was swearing.
“Christ, eating raw fish used to be called poverty around here. Now it’s called sushi,” quipped Nugget.
“What about my visits to the prison?”
“They will cease immediately. Not many people get a clean break from the organisation. You are very lucky. Not many people get long service leave as well. A final payment will hit your bank account in the next forty-eight hours. Go and enjoy your freedom. Oh, and one last piece of advice. Don’t talk to anyone about this. Police included. You know what they say. If you don’t make changes nothing changes.”
As he was donning his overcoat, he added, “Oh, and Dolly, just another reminder … You won’t be going home to North Berwick in the way you planned if you fuck up. And before you ask, yes, Alf sanctioned this.”
With that, Nugget left the pub; with a surprised but relieved ex-employee behind.
Chapter 63
Harry was nervous about going back to visit his old friend in prison, but he had promised Bryson and had been assured that Alf Hunter would not be getting any visitors today.
Bryson was looking frail as he pulled up a seat opposite Harry. “Thanks for coming in. I know it’s not easy given what’s just gone down. I’m so sorry about Carole and the kids.”
“Thanks.”
“They looking after you, Bryson?”
“As best they can. The screws in Ingliston Hall are mostly fine. Couple of them you have to be careful with though. Did you get a chance to catch up with Tony?”
“Yes, I did, he’s fine. He’s off the drugs right now and the dealers seem to be leaving him alone. He is also trying to get out of Craigmillar. He will visit you when he gets himself straightened out, he promised. His current girlfriend, Stacy, is applying for a council house in Haddington, where her parents live.”
“Haddington? Christ that’s miles away.”
“Not these days, Bryson.”
“This Stacy, is she okay?”
“Seems to be. She is a nurse and they met while he was in rehab and she does seem to care. If anyone is going to get him out of the drug scene then I think she might be the one.”
Harry wasn’t sure about that, but it would make Bryson feel good and by the look of him he needed some good news.
“Harry, something I have to tell you, I have been a bit out of sorts, tummy-wise, the last while. Anyway, had some scans done last week and unfortunately the results are not so good.”
“In what way, Bryson?”
“The visiting doc thinks I might have stomach cancer and has me going to the infirmary later this week for some more tests. A day out of here is welcome, doesn’t matter what the reason is. You know everyone is eligible to die.”
It seemed to Harry that life wasn’t fair. “Sorry to hear that. Keep your chin up. I’ll keep in touch with Tony and let you know any updates. Contact me when you get the results.”
“No mention to Tony about this. He has enough on his plate right now.”
“She’ll be apples.”
The pair shook hands and Harry watched a broken friend return to the prison hall.
The place Harry was about to visit was immoral, radical and sinful. He had never been to a gay bar before and he was nervous as he entered the bar where Tich had told him he would find Dolly Dyson.
What he found inside was a real culture shock and he just could not comprehend that Edinburgh openly allowed this in the city centre.
Sitting in small groups were brightly attired gays cuddling, kissing and laughing openly. Their age group ranged from young teenagers to old farts. They seemed to be enjoying themselves. What they were doing openly in public would not be allowed by heterosexuals in a public bar. Society had gone off the rails somewhere along the line.
Then he thought. All men were hunters, the younger ones are full of testosterone, invincibility and seeking a kill. The older ones perhaps, preferred the hunt to the kill.
He felt completely out of place and it was obvious by the looks he was given by the patrons. He made his way directly to the bar. He shouted to the barman above the din, “Can you tell me if Dolly Dyson is in the bar tonight?”
The barman, without looking up, continued to clean some wine glasses. “Who wants to know?”
“Just an old school friend wanting to catch up.”
The barman frowned, looked at him with disdain, raised his finger and pointed. “Over there. The dude with the pink and white strides and orange hairpiece.”
Harry wandered over to the flamboyant character as he dodged rude remarks and lustful glances from the clientele. He really did not want to be here but he had to talk to Dolly.
“Well, well, if it isn’t John Dwyer.”
“And who may you be?”
“Your old schoolmate, Harry Cram.”
“My, God. I didn’t recognise you.”
“I could say the same.”
They moved over to the nearest vacant table to talk.
“Dinnae stan aroon like a dope. Take a seat, how are you and how did you track me down?”
“Do you remember Tich Cameron from school?”
“Yes. The last I heard he was living up north somewhere and please, call me Dolly.”
'”I went to see him recently and unfortunately he has a terminal illness. He doesn’t have long left.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that, Harry.”
“The thing is. He told me that he knew you were the father of Carole Hunter’s first child.”
Dolly’s face changed to a whiter shade of pale and he didn’t respond for a few seconds. “Carole and I met regularly until the baby was small. But we drifted apart. Of course, my life took a different course. As you can see, sweetie.”
No matter how hard he tried he just could not see the school kid Johnny Dwyer sitting opposite him. All he could see was an old extroverted gay trying to hang on to middle age and poncing around displaying his wares to a similar audience.
How was it possible that a kid who was so good-looking, suave and sophisticated and loved the opposite sex could turn out this way?
He could have had any girl he wanted at school. They all drooled at the sight of him and some happily lost their virginity to him. No doubt there would have been a few more Dwyers running around the planet today.
Christ, this was making Harry’s inside twist around like a washing machine on full spin. He felt sick. But he knew he would only get one chance to get any information from Dolly and he most definitely did not want to make a second visit to the establishment.
Dolly explained to him that he was only a conduit for passing information to and from prison for Alf Hunter and would not comment on the death of Carole and the girls. He claimed that he did not know anything about it and was still grieving their passing.
Harry doubted that the man in front of him could lie straight in bed. There was no point in pressing him anymore. He said goodbye and left the establishment.
Harry felt clarty and was desperate to get home and have a warm cleansing bath. He wasn’t homophobic, only uncomfortable with the unfettered openness of the gay community in today’s society.
Chapter 64
Jack Ruby was essentially a nice guy but he was not a people person and had difficulty in dealing with confrontation. Most people were surprised that he had reached
such a senior level in the force but they tolerated him.
He was reaching sixty, an age that demanded retirement for detectives and he looked every part his age, mainly due to being a heavy pipe smoker.
He was a family man and had been in the force for four decades. Had a lovely understanding wife, two children and three grandchildren. Life was great except for his failing health and the stress of the job. No one could dispute his work ethics. He kept his head down, focused on getting results and at the same time kept the hierarchy happy.
“I don’t need to remind you, James, that it’s now over two months since the deaths of the Hunter family and Reginald Buchanan. You know the absence of proof is like a ship without a rudder, meaning you’re not going anywhere with the case.”
James was sensing an issue here and knew that something was about to be said that he wouldn’t like.
“I’m handing the Hunter case over to DCI Bowen who is skilled in taking over existing cases and achieving success. How do you feel about that, James?”
“I’d rather say nothing than say the wrong thing, sir.”
“Remember James, on any case you only ever win or learn. You never lose.”
Gerry Bowen was an extremely experienced detective who generally got on with most people in and out of the force. He was a bit like a reality TV producer, he knew what buttons to push to get results.
James had met him only on social occasions over the years and had no issues with him except that he was English.
“James, it’s nothing personal. But the public demands results and at the moment we’re not performing in that area. We don’t need or want the media to start putting pressure on the department. We need to be seen to be pro-active, hence the introduction of Bowen.”
James shifted uneasily in his seat. “Sir.”
“Anyway, this will allow you to concentrate on the Buchanan case without the distraction of a triple murder. Talk to Gerry and make sure you liaise together on both cases.”
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