Bridge of Doom

by George McCartney

  'I know, Annie. The only good thing is that Henry probably didn't know much about it when he went over.'

  'Look it's no secret that I really couldn't stand Henry, with all of his bullshit patter and endless snobby jokes about Glasgow. But nobody deserves to die this way, getting chucked off a bridge like a bag of rubbish.

  'You're right, Annie. Poor bugger.'

  Annie brushed away a tear and stared fiercely at her partner. 'We deliberately fed Henry a lie, then he passed it on and it's got him killed. So it's all our fault, isn't it? There's no other way to look at it. Shit, I feel so bad.'

  Jack put a comforting arm round his partner's shoulders and said, 'come on, stop it … that's crazy talk, Annie. We were just doing our job and what got Henry killed was his own weakness and stupidity, nothing else. So get that into your head right now, because there's nothing we can do to change what's happened. I don’t know if it’s possible, but we could maybe try and help the police to nail his killer.'

  'Yes, that would be something, if we could at least do that.'

  ‘Come on, Annie, I definitely need a drink. Let's head back up to Bert's Bar and we can say cheerio to old Henry, with a toast.’

  Chapter 48

  When they arrived at the pub Jack pointed Annie towards a vacant table and then queued at the bar to place their order. Ten minutes later he re-joined his partner.

  'What took you so long?' said Annie, warily. 'Don't tell me, you've been trying to find a beer with the cheekiest possible name for me, haven’t you?'

  'Okay, I’m busted. At first I couldn't make my mind up between a Village Bike, and an Ankle Biter. But, obviously being a craven coward and not wanting to have perfectly good beer poured over my head, I settled in the end for a Spitfire, which suits you perfectly.'

  'Good pick, you're off the hook. So what's yours called? Don't tell me, it'll be some kind of stupid knob joke or something to do with farting. Correct?'

  'I'm really that shallow and obvious?'

  'Fraid’ so, boss. I can’t lie.'

  'Well that's where you're completely wrong. Because I'm having a Gentleman Jack which, as the label claims, is full bodied with a mature polished finish. Just like me. It's brewed somewhere in Kent, but I'm assured it travels well and will go perfectly with one of Bert's delicious steak pies.'

  Then clinking his glass against Annie's for a toast, Jack said, 'okay, all kidding aside, here's to old Henry. He was one of a kind, thank God. Gone but definitely not forgotten.'

  ‘How much longer do you think we’ll be here in Edinburgh?’ asked Annie.

  ‘I’m not sure. Obviously it’s up to Guy, but he’ll probably want us around for a few more days at least, just to see if things settle down.’

  'Do you have anything in mind for Raymond Glenn?’

  ‘I don’t know yet, Annie. Just some discrete inquiries first of all, to see if there’s anything that links him directly to Henry’s death. It might be a complete waste of time, but I’ll feel better if we at least try.’

  Annie was adamant. 'Okay, boss, but whatever we decide to do, we have to think things through properly first and work out all of the angles. Because, if we're right and this man had Henry killed, we need to be extremely careful because he probably wouldn't hesitate to do it again. We want to get paid and get back to Glasgow in one piece. Agreed?'

  'Absolutely, you know me, I'm always careful,' said Jack.

  Clearly unconvinced, Annie said, 'Jamie's getting the train through from Glasgow this afternoon. So if we’re going to be checking out Mr Glenn, having an extra body around and the use of a drone, if we need it, will help a lot.'

  'Are you meeting him at the station?'

  'Yes, Guy said I can use his car anytime we need it, so I'll pick Jamie up around three o'clock.'

  Chapter 49

  As Jamie Boyd exited Waverley Station into Market Street and looked around for Annie, she tooted the horn on the Lexus and flashed the car's headlights to attract his attention to where she was double parked, directly under the North Bridge.

  Jamie dodged through the traffic and jumped into the plush leather passenger seat. 'This is a very nice set of wheels, Annie. What happened to your little Corsa?'

  'Oh, you noticed. The Corsa's nice, but I felt that it didn't really fit with my new raised public profile here in the capital,' said Annie with a giggle. 'It's the client's, obviously, and wait till you see where you'll be staying for the next few days.'

  'I know, I had a quick look at pictures of Moray Place on the train coming through, on Google Street View,' said Jamie. 'It’s quite something, but I hope I don't have to share a room with Jack.'

  'No, I think you'll probably be taking over Henry's room, because he won't be needing it anymore.'

  'Right, I remember the name. Henry's the guy whose email account you asked me to hack into. So I take it you found out some useful stuff and he's now been given his P45 and parted company with your client?'

  'You could say that. He was found dead under the Dean Bridge yesterday.'

  'Oh God, that's horrible, Annie. Was it suicide?'

  'Depends who you ask. But we don't think so and we're going after the person responsible. So you'll be helping us, if you're up for that.'

  'Definitely. Whatever you need, Annie, I'm your man.'

  'Did you remember to bring the drone with you?'

  'Yes, it's right here,' said Jamie patting his holdall. 'I never leave home without it these days. I've actually been using it on a college project to photograph old buildings in Glasgow city centre. I’ve got some great aerial shots that you just couldn’t get any other way.'

  'Terrific. I’ll check them out later. But if we'd had the drone available two nights ago, it might just have kept us out of trouble.'

  'What happened?'

  'We went out late at night, following a gang of neds into an area of the city we didn't know anything about and wandered straight into an ambush. We were following up on one of Jack's famous hunches and, because we didn't have any kind of back-up plan in place, it nearly got us killed.'

  Jamie whistled and said, 'so it's obviously pretty heavy stuff, this job you're working on.'

  'It didn't start out that way. But don't worry, Jamie, we won't be doing anything stupid like that again. We're going to be working a lot smarter from now on.’

  Chapter 50

  'Jack, if you’ve got time, would you do me a favour and clear the stuff out of Henry's room? I know he was a complete idiot, but he was still my best friend for most of my adult life. Somehow I just can't bring myself to gather up all of his things and put them into a black plastic bin bag.'

  'Sure, no problem, Guy. I'll do it right away and, if there's anything I think you might want to keep, or maybe pass on to his ex-wife, I'll put it to one side and you can decide what to do with it later.'

  Jack went upstairs to Henry's bedroom, on the second floor, and began emptying out cupboards and drawers, to make a small pile of clothes on the bed. As expected, there appeared to be little of value amongst Henry's possessions. However, as he was checking the pockets of Henry's trousers and jackets, he began to accumulate a small pile of betting slip receipts, which revealed that Henry did not confine his gambling activities simply to UK horse racing and football matches. A small waste bin next to the dressing table was also half-full of more crumpled betting slips and several receipts for items recently pawned at Cash Converters. Jack smiled ruefully and shook his head as he came across a slip for a hundred-pound bet on a homing pigeon race, somewhere in the Far East, and another for two hundred pounds lost on a college lacrosse game in America.

  Although the pile of discarded betting slips provided sad confirmation of Henry’s gambling addiction, they also gave an insight into some of his extra-curricular activities. Henry was clearly old-school when it came to note taking and writing to-do lists, preferring to use a pencil and the ready supply of paper which his betting slips provided. Most of the notes were innocuous enough, containing random though
ts about his future betting intentions, or obvious reminders to contact one of his many girlfriends.

  However, three of the crumpled betting slips had cryptic messages scrawled on the reverse side.

  meet M @ 7

  garage @ 7 SHITSHITSHIT

  fucking M t’night AGAIN

  These messages were intriguing, but provided yet more questions without answers. Could M be Maxie Glenn? And where's the garage? Jack sighed and shook his head, before slipping the mysterious messages into his trouser pocket. Then he finished filling two plastic bin bags with the pathetic remnants of Henry Dunn’s life and carried them downstairs.

  He caught up with Annie and Jamie, who were busy enjoying coffee and muffins in the kitchen. ‘Okay guys, I’ve just been going through all of Henry’s stuff. It didn’t take very long because there wasn’t anything of any value, even sentimental value. I don’t think he was the sentimental type and I’m pretty sure he’d pawned everything apart from his mobile phone.’

  Annie nodded in agreement. ‘We still don’t know if the phone was in any of his pockets when the body was pulled out of the river. Probably not. And if he was murdered, whoever did it will have destroyed it to stop his movements being traced.’

  ‘But although there was nothing of value in his room, I did find these,’ said Jack handing over the three betting slip.’

  ‘And this helps us, how?’ enquired Annie, after reading the cryptic messages and passing them to Jamie.

  ‘I know it’s not much, Annie. But, since Henry no longer had a car and he didn't drive Guy's car either, as far as I know, then he wouldn't normally be going anywhere near a garage. So I’m guessing these notes are about Henry being summoned to meet Maxie Glenn, either to receive instructions or to pass on the latest information about the Westlink deal. I think we can safely assume he wasn’t looking forward to the prospect of being within grabbing distance of such a dangerous violent man.’

  ‘Okay, so if these notes are about Maxie, presumably he owns, or has access to, some kind of garage premises that he uses for meetings, or other business. Could be, boss, but how do we find it? Where would we begin?’

  'There are always four basic pieces of information you need to know on these kind of jobs. One, what does the target look like? Second, where does he live? Three, what type of car does he drive? And, finally, what is his usual daily routine? If you start there and work at it for long enough, usually you get a break somewhere along the line. Criminals are creatures of habit, just like the rest of us, and if they have a system that's working like a Swiss watch, they'll probably stick with it.'

  ‘Yes, I totally get that. But our problem is that we only have a few days to come up with something. Surely the cops must have had him under surveillance already? And, if they didn't get anywhere with all of their resources, what chance do we have?'

  'That's a fair point, Annie, and I don't have a sensible answer for you, other than the obvious one, which is that Maxie and his brother are both clever careful men. But that's no reason for us to give up without even trying, right? Even clever and careful men occasionally make mistakes, or get unlucky. Unfortunately, I don’t have any contacts with the cops here in Edinburgh, so I can’t just pick up the phone and ask for Maxie’s address and a recent picture of him.’

  Chapter 51

  Later the same morning Jack and Annie were asked to join Guy Brodie in his penthouse office, to hear the shock news that he was no longer associated with the Westlink development.

  'I have something to tell you both. An hour ago I signed legal papers that hand control of Westlink over to the Glenn brothers.’

  'I don't understand,' said Annie. 'What happened?'

  'It was quite simple. Raymond Glenn got in touch with all of the investors behind my back and basically offered them a much better deal, after apologising for his outburst at the meeting. He explained that he was angry and upset because he cared so much about the project and, amazingly, some of the investors believed him. I’m sure he already had his plans in place and he talked them round with a proposal, which safeguards their existing investment and, crucially, guarantees them a much better return in terms of income over the first five years of the project.'

  ‘That’s incredible,’ said Jack as he absorbed the news.

  'I believe one or two of the investors may have been leery about Glenn and what was being offered and, apparently, they've sold him their holdings at a small profit and walked away. Money always talks at the end of the day and, although I've known some members of the consortium personally for over twenty years, I'm afraid friendship counts for very little in the property business, when there are such large sums of money involved. So there we are … it's a done deal, I'm afraid.'

  'But what about your part of the deal?' asked Jack. 'Surely they can't do anything without your controlling stake in Westlink?'

  Guy smiled ruefully before explaining. 'I was given twenty-four hours to accept, or reject, an offer of sixty-five pence in the pound for my holding and I've just instructed my lawyer to accept that offer. Of course, the unspoken sub-text in my particular case is that the harassment will immediately stop and I'll be left alone from now on. So the Glenn brothers now have complete control over the running of the development. It's a tough one for me to swallow and I'll probably have to sell the house here in Moray Place, to help cover my losses. But I'll bounce back, don't worry about that. Although having said that, my next project will definitely be something much more modest than Westlink.'

  'I'm sorry it's ended this way,' said Jack.

  'Anyway, there it is guys. I've accepted their offer and the project will now go ahead on schedule, exactly as planned. Except that it's being re-branded as 'East Coast Ventures – delivering a vibrant metropolitan lifestyle in the heart of the city.’

  'Yuck,' said Annie. 'That should be enough to get them arrested on its own.'

  'Exactly. I could have fought the Glenn brothers and dragged them through the courts. But that would have left the project in complete limbo. My lawyer also tells me it would take several years and cost a lot of money, with absolutely no guarantee of winning at the end of it. To be honest with you, I'm completely exhausted by everything that's happened here in the last six months. I just want to lie down on a warm sandy beach somewhere far away, relax and read a paperback book. Basically, I need to try and get my life back.'

  'I'm really sorry, Guy. I just wish we could have done more to help, but you definitely gave it your best shot,' said Jack.

  'Please, I don't want any recriminations. I wouldn't have got this far without the support you and Annie gave me over the past two weeks. And don't look so worried, Jack. You won't need to organise a whip round to pay for the morning croissants and I promise my cheque for your fee won't bounce either.'

  'Honestly, I wasn't worried,' said Jack, lying effortlessly.

  'By the way, I've just received an email from Henry's sister to say his body has been released to the family by the procurator fiscal. Strange as it may seem, when I think of all the years I knew Henry, I've never actually met the woman. Anyway the service is in two days' time, at eleven o’clock, up at Mortonhall Crematorium. Obviously I'm going, but I wasn't sure if you wanted to come along as well, Jack.’

  'Absolutely, I'll be there,' replied Jack. Annie shook her head indicating a funeral body swerve.

  ‘One last thing,’ added Guy. ‘I’ll make a final decision after the funeral, but I’m hoping that I won’t need you both after that. Obviously I’ll let you know as soon as possible.’

  Chapter 52

  The heavens opened as Guy and Jack pulled into the car park at Mortonhall Crematorium in Edinburgh, for Henry Dunn's funeral service. Guy quickly retrieved a golf umbrella from the boot of the Lexus, along with a small tasteful lily wreath, and the pair then hurried towards the main building.

  Guy left his wreath in the chapel vestibule, beside two others which had been deposited earlier. Jack smiled to himself when he saw a card pinned to the wreath,
clearly written by Henry's ex-wife, which was splendidly curt and to the point, proclaiming Sorry I can't make it, Henry. You were definitely one of a kind. ‘Thank God for that,' muttered Jack to himself as they went inside.

  The funeral chapel was almost deserted, apart from three middle-aged women and one older scruffily dressed man, who may or may not have been sitting inside simply to shelter from the rain. After a brief anonymous service which, wisely, did not dwell on the years immediately preceding Henry Dunn's demise, his coffin disappeared behind the curtain, as Freddie Mercury and Queen began blasting out "Another One Bites the Dust." Pure class right till the end, Henry, thought Jack.

  As they stood outside the chapel, Jack and Guy shuffled awkwardly, in the manner of all mourners, whilst wondering if it was possible to decently slip away before being compelled to embrace tearful female relatives or, even worse, having to speak to the minister.

  One of the three women who had attended the funeral service then approached and said, 'I'm hoping one of you gentlemen is Jack Davidson.'

  Offering his hand Jack said, 'yes, I'm Jack Davidson and this is Guy Brodie.'

  'My name’s Helen Jamieson. I'm Henry's older sister and his only living relative, apart from his ex-wife. He spoke quite a lot about both of you the last time I saw him.'

  Guy was the first to offer his condolences. 'I'm so sorry about what happened, Mrs Jamieson. None of us saw it coming, did we Jack?'

  'No it was a complete shock.'

  Guy’s eyes began to tear up as he continued, 'we were close friends for over thirty years, ever since we met at school, and I just can't get my head round the fact that he won't be coming into the office tomorrow morning as usual, to tell me another one of his awful jokes.'

  The trio smiled wanly and nodded, each with their own memories of Henry. When the polite conversation dried up and it became obvious that Helen Jamieson wanted to speak privately to Jack, Guy awkwardly embraced Henry's sister, said goodbye and headed off towards the car park.