Say You're Sorry: A Gripping Crime Thriller (A DCI Campbell McKenzie Detective Conspiracy Thriller No 1)

by IAN C. P. IRVINE

  Jonathan put the phone down and walked across to the calendar on the wall, hoping that he would get there before he forgot the message.

  Reaching into his dressing gown pocket he pulled out the pencil he always kept there and made a few notes on the calendar.

  "See Doctor. Six o'clock. Don't forget!"

  Returning slowly to his seat he adjusted his pyjamas and sat down again. Slowly he reached for the plate of porridge that he had made for breakfast at midday and put a spoonful into his mouth.

  "Shame," he thought to himself. "I was looking forward to the visit."

  Lowering the plate of porridge into his lap, his eyes glazed over and for a moment he thought he heard Sally's voice calling to him from downstairs.

  A tear began to roll down the side of his cheek.

  -------------------------

  St Leonards Police Station

  Edinburgh 3 p.m.

  'DCI Campbell McKenzie entered the room, accompanied by Detective Inspector Danielle Wessex. It's 3 p.m.' Campbell announced to the voice recorder on the centre of the table in the interview room, as he slipped into a chair at the table.

  "Good afternoon, Mr McNunn. Thanks for coming in." Campbell said, smiling briefly at the man on the opposite side of the interview table and nodding at the woman sitting beside him.

  "Good to see you again, Miss Laurie. I trust you are well?" Campbell asked, acknowledging the presence of Tommy McNunn's lawyer. "Although, I don't really think you'll be needed today. I just wanted to talk to Tommy. Informally. We're not charging him with anything."

  "Nevertheless," Miss Laurie replied. "It's probably more appropriate that I'm here. I know what you get up to DCI McKenzie, and it's not always, shall we say, ... straightforward?"

  Campbell smiled, shook his head, and turned his attention to the lid on the coffee he had brought with him. "It's Mr McNunn's money. He can spend it how he wants."

  He lifted the cup and took a sip.

  "Well, Tommy. How are you today? Long time, no see?"

  "Long enough, DCI McKenzie. Long enough. So, what have you brought me in for today? I'm a busy man, as you know, and as you just pointed out, this wee bird here doesn't come cheap, so the quicker you get this over and done with, the better."

  "Understood. And I'll try not to take up too much of your time." Campbell returned the cup of coffee to the table and motioned for Inspector Wessex to hand him the brown envelope in her hands. "This is Inspector Wessex. I think you know each other already? I believe she was the one who arrested you for the Costorphine murder last year?"

  Tommy laughed.

  "Briefly,yes. Until you confirmed my alibi that I was in fact, at the time of the man's death, in Glasgow."

  "In a cinema. Yes. Watching a film in the dark."

  "In Glasgow." Tommy re-emphasised.

  "Anyway, that was last year. This is now. Do you recognise this man?" McKenzie asked, taking some photographs out of the envelope and pushing them over the table towards Tommy.

  McNunn bent forward briefly, his hands remaining passively on the tabletop before him, and making no effort to pick the photos up and examine them more carefully.

  "It's pretty difficult to make out his face. It's a bit messed up. Slightly caved in and covered in blood. Should I?"

  "I think you should, yes. He's one of your men."

  Tommy laughed.

  "I don't think so. I've not lost any recently. Last time I checked, none of my employees had died in the past few weeks. Who is it, and what happened to him, assuming it is a 'he'...?"

  "I'm surprised you're insisting that you don't know him. We know that you do know him. Let me jog your memory for you. Does the name Keith Urqhart ring a bell?"

  "Like I said, should it?"

  "PC Keith Urqhart? From Costorphine?"

  "Costorphine? Nope, sorry. Doesn't ring any bells at all. Mind you, you guys are always trying to talk to me, and I can't be expected to try and keep track of them all. Can I?"

  Campbell took another drink of his coffee.

  "Well, that's a question for you to answer, not me. The thing is Tommy, you know that I know that you know him. For now, just leave it at that. When was the last time you saw him?"

  "About three seconds ago. In the photograph."

  "Before that?"

  "About ten seconds ago... When I looked at the photograph for the first time."

  "Funny ha ha. Answer the question."

  "How can I? I've never seen this guy before. What do you want me to say?"

  Campbell turned to the recording device and made a few comments about him showing the photograph to Tommy, and his denial of recognising the man's face. Campbell was tempted to go away and retrieve the file from his desk with the photographs in it that showed some sort of meeting between Tommy McNunn and the dead Police Constable, but he knew he couldn't. He didn't want Tommy to know he was being followed so closely, although there was a possibility Tommy probably already knew.

  "Well, that's all for now then Tommy." Campbell said, pushing back his chair and standing up. "Interview terminated at 3.10 p.m." Campbell announced and wrapped up the meeting formally.

  "So, what? That's it? You hauled me down here for that?" Tommy asked, standing up quickly, annoyed.

  "For what?"

  "To show me a couple of photos of a dead copper. Trying to tie me into his death."

  "I wasn't. I just wanted to show you the photographs. To let you know PC Urqhart was dead. And to see in your eyes if you already knew that, or not."

  Tommy opened his mouth to say something, but thought better of it.

  Miss Laurie reached out and touched Tommy gently on the wrist, indicating with a facial expression that they should just leave.

  Tommy blinked back in recognition and swallowed whatever it was he was just about to say.

  Inspector Wessex took a few steps forward, opened the door and held it open for them, letting the lawyer and McNunn step through.

  "We'll talk again soon, Tommy. Very soon. I'm sure of it."

  Tommy stopped in the doorway and glanced back at Campbell. His face was blank, but after a second the corners of his lips curled up and he mimicked a smile.

  Then he turned and walked out.

  -------------------------

  St Leonards Police Station,

  Edinburgh

  5 p.m.

  Campbell sat in his office, looking out of the window across at his view of Arthur's Seat. St Leonards was the nearest station to the scene of the incident and from where he was he couldn't see exactly where the body had been discovered, but it was only a few metres out of view. It was too early to know for certain whether it was a murder or a suicide, but Campbell was already pretty sure that it would turn out to be the former rather than the latter.

  The meeting with McNunn earlier on had been a formality, just to let him know that Campbell was thinking about him. There was nothing yet to really associate him with the body, but there were already several things that were emerging that were indicating that something more was going on than was first apparent.

  Firstly, although they were still awaiting the verdict of the autopsy, an initial observation by the forensics officer before the body was taken away pointed out a large cut on the man's right earlobe. It was more of a slice... Something that you might expect from a very thin blade. Like a Stanley knife.

  Secondly, there were broad marks around the ankles and wrists, and some visible abrasions on the side of the face around the side of the man's head that was still intact and not destroyed by the fall. It looked like the man had been tied up, probably using duct tape, and had fought to get free.

  Thirdly, the man's trousers had been soiled before he had fallen to his death, which indicated that he had been scared. Very scared. From experience, this probably meant that he had not jumped of his own volition.

  Fourthly, the man was a police officer. If it turned out that he had been murdered, in a public place, it meant that whoever did it had balls. To dr
ag a man, probably tied up and gagged, all the way up the cliffs, and then push him off, required a certain confidence in their operations, or incredible stupidity. Whoever had done it could have been discovered at any time by someone out walking a dog, or perhaps by a couple of drunk students from the University Halls of Residence just across the road.

  If it was a murder, whoever carried it out, was obviously trying to make a statement. The fact that Urqhart was a police officer, and one who was already under suspicion for being on the pay-book of McNunn and maybe others too, hinted at the possibility that there was a connection. Someone in the crime-world was probably upset with Urqhart and was either punishing him, or sending a signal to others like him. Or both.

  Campbell spun his chair round and turned towards Inspector Wessex.

  "Okay, can you send someone round to his wife again and ask if you can get access to his bank records? We don't have a warrant yet, so this all has to be done on a voluntary basis for now. The chances are that you'll come back with nothing surprising. But dig around. I want to see if there's anything odd happening recently. If you need a warrant, let me know. We'll get one. Ask all the obvious questions again. I know yesterday's conversations with his wife didn't flag anything up, but now she's had a bit more time to think about it, you never know. And push for the phone records. Make sure we know about all the phones that were at his address. If he was on the pay-book of someone else, then he might have some phones squirreled away somewhere that his wife doesn't know about. You'll probably need to talk to the tech boys on this one. We need to build up a pattern of life for Urqhart over the past few weeks and find out everything we can about him as soon as possible."

  As the young DI left the office and set off to start carrying out his instructions, Campbell watched her leave. She was an attractive woman, determined, smart, and destined to go far.

  Campbell knew that many of the other officers didn't like her, and he knew the reasons why. What's more, he knew that the rumours were true, but he didn't care. Whatever she had done in her past, she had learned from it, and had come out stronger.

  Campbell had long ago adopted her as his protégé, and he was determined to help her as much as possible, even if it meant being harder on her sometimes than he really needed to be. She never complained. Never tired of the work. And got results.

  She was a good officer.

  One of the best.

  Chapter 6

  Duddingston Crossroads

  Edinburgh

  Wednesday 7 p.m.

  Jonathan Stuart approached the lights at the junction of Duddingston Crossroads with great caution.

  As a young man he had loved to drive, but now he found it stressful and confusing. Fifty years ago, the roads had been empty. Fewer people had a car back then, and children could play on the streets without fear of being mown down by a tourist or kid with spots and an L plate.

  Today everyone had a car. Everyone.

  Duddingston Crossroads was one of the busiest junctions in the area. As long as you treated it with respect, though, Jonathan knew that everything would be okay. Take your time. Look, listen, look again... and never take a chance. Just be cautious.

  Theoretically Jonathan had nothing to worry about. In all his years of owning a licence he had never had a crash, never been given any points, and never been in trouble with any other drivers.

  Sally and Jonathan had loved to go for long drives around the Highlands, taking in the scenery and enjoying relaxing picnics in the middle of nowhere. With Sally by his side, he would think nothing of driving hundreds of miles in a day. They would talk and talk, sometimes even sing songs together, and the miles would roll past.

  Nowadays the car was somehow bigger, and very empty.

  Without Sally, everything was empty.

  The house, the car, his life, and his heart.

  The lights ahead changed and eight cars in front managed to make it through the lights before they started to change again.

  Jonathan slowed down and stopped at the junction. He was next up and would be first to go when the lights changed.

  Perhaps if he had been in a hurry, he could have put his foot down, and he would have made it through the lights before they turned red. Maybe.

  But Jonathan always erred on the side of caution. He was a good driver.

  Staring straight ahead he thought momentarily of Sally. Straight across the junction on the left-hand side was Duddingston Golf Club. He and Sally used to be members. They used to play regularly, at least once a week, and enjoyed a good social life there with their friends at the last hole. The 19th.

  When Sally had died, the friends had gradually been less friendly, and Jonathan less inclined to be friendly back. In fact, after she had gone, he had only played five times more, then one day he had just given his golf clubs away to a charity shop on Portobello High Street, and he had never gone back.

  The lights in front were changing now.

  Still indicating, Jonathan released the hand-brake, applied the accelerator and slowly moved off.

  Turning to the right he paused in the middle of the junction and waited for the oncoming traffic to roll past him. When it had all gone, he completed the turn into Willowbrae Road.

  Driving past the Lady Nairn Hotel on the left he thought briefly about the last time he had been there for a meal with Sally. Two weeks before she had died.

  He swallowed hard, and turned his attention back to the road, anticipating the traffic lights ahead and slowing down as they turned red.

  Coming to a stop, he applied his handbrake and watched two women cross the road from his left to the island in the middle, the baby in the push-chair waving its hands wildly and laughing.

  At first Jonathan did not know what was happening.

  There was a loud dull thud, and he felt himself being propelled forwards, almost as if the whole car had been lifted up and catapulted a few feet through the air.

  Jonathan felt the seat belt dig into his chest and push him backwards into his seat, followed by a quick surge of pain in his shoulders and his neck.

  "Aagghhh" he cried aloud, then blinked a few times, gripping the steering- wheel tightly.

  He looked down at his hands, and then his feet. Then slowly turned his head apprehensively from one side to another.

  What had happened?

  "Oh dear, Sally, I think we've just been hit by a car..." he said, turning to speak to Sally. An empty seat. Jonathan blinked again and swallowed hard.

  Slowly, very slowly, he turned to his right and started to reach for the door handle.

  Cautiously, he moved across the seat, opened the door and eased himself out.

  Standing up, and rubbing his neck, he looked around him. Adjusting the pair of glasses on the end of his nose, he focussed on the car behind his. Its bonnet was about ten centimetres from his rear bumper. The driver, a tall man with a bald head and broad shoulders was now stepping out of his own car, the lips mouthing words which Jonathan could easily lip read from several metres away. Obscenities. The most obvious one being a sexual command which the man kept repeating.

  Jonathan took a few steps towards the rear of his car and for the first time in years, swore himself.

  "Shit!" he mouthed under his breath, shocked to see the damage that his rear bumper had sustained.

  It was immediately obvious that the bumper was beyond repair. Large parts of it had broken off and were scattered in pieces on the road beneath, and most of what was left was hanging off the back precariously.

  "Oh no... What am I going to do now?" he asked Sally, wishing that she was there to help him.

  Beginning to shake, whether it was from fear or anger, Jonathan didn't know, he turned his attention to the bumper of the car that had hit him.

  It too, was destroyed.

  Jonathan looked up at the man, who was now standing in front of him.

  "Are you alright? You're not injured, are you?" Jonathan asked, courteously.

  "I'm fine." The man growl
ed. "You? You okay?"

  Jonathan reached up, rubbed his neck again and coughed a few times.

  "I ... I don't know. I got quite a bang. I think my neck hurts." He said and then started coughing again. "And my chest hurts quite a bit, too." Jonathan replied, looking at the man.

  His eyes were a cold, steely blue. Ice cold. Jonathan felt uncomfortable looking at him. He turned away to look at his car again.

  "What happened?" Jonathan asked, almost innocently. "Why didn't you stop? The light was red..."

  The man shrugged his shoulders. "Shit happens."

  "Shit happens? What's that meant to mean?" Jonathan gasped.

  "Like I said, shit happens."

  The man shrugged again.

  Looking up, past the man, Jonathan could see that a steady queue of traffic was building up behind them on the main road. With an immense sense of relief, Jonathan saw that just three cars behind the car that had hit his was a police car.

  "Hang on," Jonathan said. "I'll get help."

  Slowly, Jonathan hobbled over past the green car which had hit his, - a large BMW with fancy wheels - and then passed one more behind it until he got to the police car.

  The officer inside looked up at Jonathan as he approached and wound down the window.

  "Can you come and help please? I need a witness... and I don't know what to do. I've never had an accident before."

  Almost reluctantly the woman police officer behind the wheel nodded, opened her door and got out, reaching back into the car for a hat and then putting it on. On the other side of the car, a male police officer followed suit, got out, nodded at his colleague and then walked off to start directing the traffic around the incident.

  "So," the woman police officer said, as she started to walk with Jonathan back to his car. "What happened?"

  "I don't know exactly, officer. I was just sitting stationary at the lights, watching some people cross, those women over there..."Jonathan pointed, "and suddenly I heard a loud noise and felt a push from behind as the car behind hit me. He obviously wasn't paying attention and drove straight into me. I can't believe he didn't see me. I was sitting there for at least a minute before he drove into me..."