by Val Penny
“He found nothing. He had me clearing out the garage and then had me up in the loft with the spiders and the creepy dead animals, but he wants all the glory,” Frankie said.
“Shut it, Frankie. We’ve both been hard at it.”
“Aye, true enough.”
“What did you find?” Tim asked.
“Well, it may be something and nothing, but knowing what happened to Eileen, Jamie and I thought we should tell you.”
“See these books, here?” Jamie asked. “Frankie came across them in the garage. They’re all about eyes and operating on eyes and the like.”
“That’s not too surprising, Jamie, Mr Morrison is a qualified optician. He’s bound to have studied the eyes and everything to do with them. Let me take a look,” Mel said. She flicked through each book in turn, and then handed them on to Tim.
“I can see why you would be concerned,” Tim said. “But these are all textbooks.”
“So why would he need to know about surgery to the eyes. Opticians just look, don’t they?” Jamie asked.
“Yes, but although they don’t carry out surgery, they are highly qualified, and often spot diseases not even associated with the eye. That’s why they carry out so many tests before you’re prescribed a pair of specs.”
“Well, put that together with the taxidermy animals Frankie found in the attic,” Jamie said.
“Aye, they’re really creepy. I didn’t half make Jamie jump when I threw down a deed mouse.”
“I did not jump. I was just playing along.”
“Where abouts were they in the attic, Frankie?” Mel asked.
“Right at the back. All shadowy and stinky. It’s pure gross.”
“It’s not my kind of thing either,” Tim said. “But there’s nothing illegal about enjoying the art of taxidermy. Again, it’s a skilful pursuit.”
“Your no’ much for going after Morrison, are you Blondie?”
“You’ve given me nothing to go after him with, Jamie.”
“Well, what about this embalming fluid, suitable for human and animal body parts.”
“Good Lord, man. If his hobby was taxidermy, of course he would need that for the animals he was working on.” Tim looked at Jamie and Frankie. He could see the frustration on their faces. “Look, guys, I’m sorry. I just don’t think there’s anything here. It’s not enough.”
“We are doing our level best to find out who assaulted Eileen, and I promise that won’t stop,” Mel said. “But none of this helps.”
“Hey, Jamie. Your old lady make fancy cake decorations, does she?” Imran came down the stairs from the bathroom. “I found this old bottle under the bath. These must have been for Halloween, I’d guess.” In his hand he carried a dusty jar.
“Linda couldn’t make a fancy cake if her life depended on it, mate,” Jamie said.
He took the jar from Imran and almost dropped it. Tim caught it before it crashed onto the floor.
“Now you have enough.”
Chapter Forty-Three
Mel had never seen Jamie move so fast as when Tim asked him if he had a forwarding address for Mr and Mrs Morrison. He ran out of his new house, into the front garden, and vaulted the fence onto Frankie’s ground. In moments, he was back to speak to the detectives with a scrap of paper in his hand. He handed it to Mel.
“They’ve moved to Tranent. Isn’t that where John used to live, Tim?”
“Yes, I believe most of his family still do.”
“I’ll phone the station and get someone out to pick him up,” Mel said.
Mel was glad to hear Bear’s voice answer the phone in the incident room. She told him what Imran had found, but he was not surprised.
“The fingerprint analysis came back from that black box we found in Arjun Mansoor’s place,” he said. “The boffins found traces of prints from Mr Morrison. Luckily, you and Oskar insisted on getting those for comparison during the burglary.”
“It’s all that made sense. So, we’ve got a slam dunk if his prints have been identified.”
“Not really. Fingerprints belonging to Hector. Felix and Mrs Mansoor have been found, too.”
“Bloody hell! But a wee woman like Mrs Mansoor never could have carried out the murders or the attack on Eileen, surely?” Mel asked.
“Probably not, but it still leaves Arjun Mansoor with a possible part in the crimes. You know how manipulative he is.”
“Yep. Anyway, will you get your booty over to Tranent and pick up Morrison? He has some questions to answer.”
“I’ll check with the boss. He may want someone more senior to go, but I’ll sort it, pet.”
“Thanks. And it’s left-over lasagne and salad for tea,” she said.
“And chips?”
“With pasta? I don’t think so, big man.”
***
Bear went through to Hunter’s office to tell him what Mel had said. Hunter sat and listened to the DC as the finds in Jamie’s new house were revealed. He heard about the books and took a sharp intake of breath.
“Yes, but Mr Morrison is an optician, boss,” Bear said.
“Did nobody think to impart this gem of knowledge to me? This makes his position worse, not better. He understands the structure of the eyes and has books on the subject.”
“Surely he would have had books to allow him to study his profession, boss. The same with the embalming fluid for preservation of human and animal body parts.”
“You what?” Hunter roared.
“It seems his hobby was taxidermy. So he would need that.”
“I suppose.”
“But now the plumber has found a dusty jar hidden under the bath with a pair of eyes floating in it…”
“You find Oskar and bring bloody Morrison to me. I’ll give him eyes in a dusty jar. Go, Bear. Now.”
***
Oskar and Bear took one of the pool cars to drive out to East Lothian. Bear drove to give Oskar the chance to look at the view and think. Bear took the A1 because, although it was not the prettiest route, it was the fastest way to get from Edinburgh to Tranent.
“What do we know about our four owners of the sets of fingerprints?” Oskar asked Bear.
“You tell me. I’m driving.”
“We know that Morrison knows Arjun Mansoor and rates him and his interest in and knowledge of eyes. That is important to Morrison because it’s his professional interest.”
“Yep. And Felix knows Mansoor, because he was his drug dealer, and Felix was indebted to him and did work for him.”
“Does Hector have a connection Mansoor?”
“I’m guessing he’s at least aware of him. Mansoor is John’s drug dealer, remember.”
“Of course. Mrs Mansoor is married to Arjun.” Oskar smiled.
“Lucky lady, isn’t she?”
“Right, let’s turn our attention to Felix. He is familiar with Mr Morrison and Arjun Mansoor because he has to deliver envelopes of drug money to Morrison for Mansoor. But does he know Hector?”
“No reason why he should. I mean, Hector will probably be aware of the Buchanan family because Lucky’s estate crosses into East Lothian where Hector lives and works. He may even have experience of working with Felix’s branch of the family because they are wealthy.”
“But Felix is not.”
“No. Any money he gets, he shoves up his nose.”
“Still, we have no evidence that Felix knows Hector and we do not think he does.”
“Correct. But Hector knows Morrison and is probably aware of Mansoor through his brother.”
“And Mrs Mansoor, who does she have a connection with?”
“Apart from her husband, Morrison, because he was the delivery man for the money. No reason why she would know either Felix or Hector,” Bear said. “Here we are in Tranent, keep your eyes open for the turn.”
***
Bear didn’t think Mr Morrison looked surprised to see them. The man got into the car without a fuss and sat silently in the back, beside Oskar, all the way to Edin
burgh as Bear drove back to Fettes Station.
“Room one is free,” Charlie said.
“Thanks, Sarge,” Bear said, leading Mr Morrison into the interview room.
Charlie sent through a PC to stand inside the room at the door until the interview began. Bear looked at him. He seemed to Bear to be about twelve years old.
Charlie noticed Bear looking. “Yes, they are getting younger. And I retire in eighteen pay checks.”
“Something for us all to look forward to.”
“Don’t you start. I get enough of that off bloody Hunter.”
“Enough of what?” Hunter asked. He had come downstairs into reception and overheard the end of the conversation.
“Cheek,” Charlie said.
“Bear, Oskar is going to interview Morrison with me. Could you bring us three coffees out of the machine?”
“Are you sure, boss? It tastes of dust.”
“I know, but I’m not giving my good stuff to that man.”
“We don’t know he’s done anything yet.”
“Just bring it through.”
“Yes boss.”
***
“I prefer tea,” Morrison said.
“Tell someone who cares,” Hunter said.
He ran through the taping of the interview and advised Morrison that he was being interview under caution with regard to two murders and an attempted murder, all of which involved the removal of the victim’s eyeballs.
Morrison sat and looked at the table. “Can I get a lawyer?”
“If you think you need one.”
“Oh, God, I don’t know.”
“Well, while you think about it, can you tell me if that is you in this photograph.”
Morrison frowned at the photo. “I don’t have my specs with me. I can’t see properly. Where was it taken? I don’t recognise the place.”
“It was taken in the Waldorf Astoria Hotel, just after that man and the woman he’s supporting had eaten in the Pompadour restaurant there,” Hunter said.
“No that can’t be me then. I’ve never been in that hotel, and I certainly can’t afford to eat there.”
“So, you can see the surroundings clearly enough that you know that you don’t recognise them, but you don’t recognise yourself,” Oskar said.
“Because it’s not me.”
Hunter read out the dates of the two murders, as far as Meera had been able to deduce them, and the date of the attack on Eileen. Then asked Mr Morrison where he had been on those occasions.
“I don’t know. I don’t have my diary with me, and they took my phone at the desk. But I don’t go out much. I was probably at home with my wife.”
“Do you know the woman called Eileen Maguire?”
“No.”
“Have you ever used a dating website?”
“Have you met my missus? It’d be more than my life’s worth.”
“Do you have an interest in taxidermy?”
“What?”
“Taxidermy,” Hunter repeated. “The preserving and stuffing of dead animals and birds.”
“I know what it is. It’s revolting. The wife’s father was into it. We’ve got a whole lot of his spooky old treasures in the loft at West Mains Road.” The man laughed. “I left them there for Jamie Thomson. I hope they scare the bejesus out of him when he finds them.”
“It did,” Hunter said, smiling. Have you ever been involved in any assaults that resulted in the removal of another person’s eyes?”
“God no! I’ve never hurt anybody in my life. Especially not eyes. I like eyes. I help to save them, not harm them.”
“Do you know of anybody who has shown a greater than normal interest in eyes, your work or the preservation of body parts?” Oskar asked.
The man took a drink of his coffee, then stared again at the table. When he looked up again, he had tears in his eyes. “I think I should call that lawyer now.”
***
“He didn’t have his own lawyer, Andrew. That’s why we called you,” Hunter said.
“Okay. Let me have a few minutes with him, then I’ll give you a shout.”
Hunter nodded and opened the door for Andrew Barley before introducing him to his new client.
“Oskar and I will be upstairs. Shall we come back in fifteen minutes?”
“That should do us. And two teas, if you can. They’re not quite as revolting as the coffee in your machines.”
Hunter smiled, asked the PC to get the teas and then he followed Oskar upstairs to the incident room. Rachael was sitting on Nadia’s desk while Colin sat on the chair next to it.
“I think that’s a clever idea. Why don’t you put it to the boss, Rache?”
“Rachael, do you have an idea?”
“Yes boss. It’s just that I went to see Eileen again today.”
“How’s she getting on with the guide dog.”
“She’s still getting used to him and they’ll have to do a lot of training together, but at least she likes him now. She trusts him too.”
“Good. Did she remember anything else that might help us?” Hunter asked.
“Perhaps. She said that Frederick always called her ‘darling’, and nobody else had ever called her that.”
“How does that help us?”
“She told me that he used a particular tone and that, with the timbre of his voice, sent shivers down her spine and made her feel gooey inside. She’s sure she’d recognise his voice if she heard it saying darling, or Eileen darling or darling Eileen. I thought it might be worth a try to record our remaining suspects and see if she can identify Frederick by his voice.”
“Rachael, don’t tell Jane, but I love you. That’s a great idea!”
“Janey’s in no danger, boss.”
“Come on, Oskar, we’re late for a date with Mr Morrison.”
“Just give me a minute. I need to speak to DC Chan.”
Nadia looked up from her computer screen. “Can I help?”
“I’m told that you and Colin are the best paper chasers on the team.”
“We do have an eye for detail, if I can use that phrase in this case. What’s up?”
“Could you contact The General Optical Council for me and find out when Mr Morrison qualified as an optician? I’d like to know if he’s kept his post-qualification education up to date too.”
“Shouldn’t take long. I’ll get it done.” Nadia smiled
Oskar followed Hunter down the stairs and found him at reception asking Charlie to find him a little recording device.
“You know you can record on your phone now, Hunter. These devices are amazing.”
“I do know that smart arse, but I want something separate.”
He opened the door of interview room one. And saw Andrew Barley nod to him.
“My client is ready to answer more questions.”
“The last question I asked that your client has failed to answer was this: Mr Morrison, can you think of anybody who has shown a greater than normal interest in eyes, your work or the preservation of body parts?” Oskar asked.
“Arjun Mansoor was always interested in what I did. I originally met him when he came in as a patient to the optician’s shop I work in. He came in for his eye examinations and would talk to me about the structure of the eyeball, how it was situated in the head and the protection it got from the bony socket in the skull.”
“Did you find that odd?”
“Not at first. Many people are interested in eyes. They are said to be the window of the soul and all that. But then he began to ask about different colours of eyes. His are dark brown. I told him that brown is the most common colour of eyes. That didn’t please him much. He became quite angry.”
“Really?”
“Yes, as if I were saying he was common. I had to quickly explain myself and tell him how eye colour was determined by the amount of melanin produced in the body.”
“Did that calm him down?” Hunter asked.
“Oh yes. But then he wanted to know which
colours of eyes were least common and most distinctive. We had long chats about that. He was fascinated and I enjoyed sharing my knowledge.”
“How did that interest develop?” Oskar asked.
“I suppose it was from those discussions that things became uncomfortable. He wanted to know if eyes could be removed from a corpse. I told him they probably could but that there are no reflexes after death, so the pupils don’t react to light and the cornea becomes a bit cloudy within two hours of the person dying.”
“What did Mansoor say to that?”
“He told me he would like to have an example of each of the rarest colours of eyes and asked if the eyes were removed from a living person, would they keep their colour.”
“I said they might if they were correctly treated, but I thought probably not. Then I laughed and said that I could not imagine anybody being willing to supply specimens for such an experiment.” Morrison looked at Hunter. “But he didn’t laugh,” he told him.
“What were the eyes doing hidden under the bath of your old home?” Oskar asked.
“Oh fuck. I forgot about those. I’d hidden them from the wife.” Morrison looked at Andrew Barley. “Shall I just tell them?” he said.
“You might as well. You’ve gone this far.”
“Mansoor brought me a dead cat.”
“But he’s in jail,” Hunter said.
“This was years ago. He wanted to watch while I removed the eyes and then preserved them. He noted down every detail. He wanted to know if the process would be the same for a human eye and I confirmed that it would be much the same. I hid them because the sight of the eyes would upset my wife. She loves cats.”
“But Arjun Mansoor has been in jail for a long time now. He was not involved in the murders earlier in the year, nor was he able to take part in the assault on Eileen Maguire. Did you continue with his work to allow him to expand his collection?”
“God no! On my mother’s life I never did.”
“My guess is your mother has been dead for an easy ten years,” Oskar said. “So that promise won’t count for much.
“What did you do, Mr Morrison?” Hunter asked.
“If a pair of eyes came to me, my job was to preserve them. That is all.”