Craig Hunter Books 1-3

by Ed James

  ‘Mawr?’ Bubble pounced on him. Her paws slid along his sweaty chest, like she was ice-skating for the first time. ‘Mawr!’ She fell back down onto the carpet.

  Hunter sat up, still panting, his throat burning. ‘You okay, Bubble?’

  She was sitting back, propping a paw on the floor as she licked at her tummy. ‘Mawr…’ Barely opened her mouth, as per usual.

  ‘Come on, then.’ He walked through to the kitchen, stretching off his chest as he went.

  Jain’s striptease flashed in front of his eyes, slowly taking off his shirt as she walked backwards.

  That couldn’t be it over, could it? One night?

  Hunter picked up his phone from the charger and tapped out a text.

  You up yet?

  Hunter got a bowl out of the cupboard and rummaged around in the drawer for his whisk. He got out the last three of Murray’s eggs and cracked them into the bowl, tossed in some rosemary and started whisking away, hard and fast. Spilled a load of eggy mess onto the counter.

  Crap…

  ‘Miaow!’ Bubble looked up at him, her left paw raised like that should mean something to him. ‘Miaow!’

  Hunter bent down to fill up her bowl, then stuck the heat on under the pan, the ceramic element glowing red hot within seconds.

  He picked up his phone. The little dots were dancing on her side of the chat. His text was marked as read, time-stamped one minute ago.

  The little dots disappeared. He waited, but no text came through.

  Hunter tugged on his work boots, black and shiny as if he was due for a kit inspection at oh seven hundred. He tied each knot twice, hard enough to feel them in his feet.

  His torso was covered in bruises. Really should get the doc to look at that stomach. He hauled on his T-shirt as someone barged into the locker room.

  ‘Hey, jabroni.’ Finlay’s face had swollen up even more since the previous night, like he’d been infected by a zombie plague. ‘Back in uniform today, is it?’

  ‘Not heard anything to the contrary.’ Hunter straightened his T-shirt out and stood up. ‘Sure you should be here?’

  ‘Like I’ve got a choice.’ Finlay slumped down on the bench and patted his head. ‘Doc says I can’t get signed off sick and Lauren’ll know I’m at it if I do.’

  ‘You’re always at it.’

  Finlay winked at him. ‘Speaking of which, how’s the fragrant Ms Jain?’

  Hunter put a hand on the cold door and froze. He exhaled through his nostrils, slow and deep. ‘I wouldn’t know.’

  ‘You didn’t shag her last night?’

  ‘I’ll see you in Lauren’s office.’ Hunter barged through the door and started off down the corridor.

  ‘Hunter!’

  He swung round and frowned into the blinding light from the window at the end of the corridor. ‘Sarge.’

  Lauren stepped forward, still in her civvies but cradling her Airwave. Looked like she hadn’t slept. ‘Glad to catch you. We’re needed at Cullen’s briefing.’ She checked her watch. ‘And we’re already late.’

  Hunter stopped outside the Incident Room, panting slightly. He tried to catch his breath as he listened to someone drone on. Didn’t sound like Cullen, but he did have that annoying telephone voice…

  He pushed into the Incident Room, attracting a few glares from the cops near the back. Dave and Steve shared a snarky comment, the only other uniforms in the room.

  The guy with the eyebrows from the previous afternoon was leading the briefing, stopping to inspect Hunter for a couple of seconds, before barrelling on. ‘And as I was saying, the forensic analysis will take some time due to the backlog we created in Dumbiedykes.’ He nodded to the side. ‘Sergeant?’

  ‘Sir.’ Cullen wandered over to the middle, clutching his iPhone, and stopped to look around the crowd, like he was a tech CEO showing off the next gadget.

  Hunter took it as an opportunity to take a seat by the laser printer. Added a whiff of ozone to the BO and coffee in the room. Couldn’t really get comfortable…

  ‘Given the delay, we’re focusing on the present threats, namely the whereabouts of Douglas and Stephanie Ferguson.’ Cullen tapped at the screen of his phone. ‘As we speak, David Boyle is being interviewed again by DCs Law and Murray.’ He grimaced. ‘Sadly, Mr Boyle’s two associates from the site of Mr Ferguson’s abduction last night are still at large. Consequently, we’re treating them as prime suspects in the abductions of Doug and Stephanie, and are putting all efforts into locating them.’ He did another one-eighty around the room. ‘Anything else?’

  Nobody was sticking their hands up. Looked like Jain might, though she was more likely to ask anything after the event.

  Bugger it. Hunter cleared his throat. ‘What about Neil Alexander?’

  Cullen nodded at Hunter. ‘Didn’t see you there, Craig.’ He grinned at him, like they were old friends who wouldn’t let anything as common as adultery stand between them. ‘What about him?’

  ‘We should be treating him as a suspect.’

  ‘And we are.’ Cullen marched over the room to the whiteboard and jabbed a finger at an unflattering photo of Neil Alexander from his work pass. ‘What do we know about him?’

  Si Buxton tore through his notebook. ‘He’s had some history with the Transport union. Some sort of militant faction. Done sit-down protests over pay and conditions, but never anything violent.’

  ‘So he’s on our radar?’

  ‘He is, but then so’s every taxi driver in Edinburgh. As far as we know, he’s not dodgy. Not the merest whiff, Scotty.’

  Hunter twisted the strap on his stab-proof a few times. ‘He’s a suspect in my book.’

  Buxton nodded recognition at Hunter. ‘I’ll be taking his statement as to his whereabouts once he turns up.’

  ‘That’s cool, Si. I want PC Hunter to be first in there with him when he pitches up.’

  Great.

  Jain’s turn to clear her throat. ‘Scott, he’s in room three downstairs.’

  36

  Neil Alexander’s gaze darted between Hunter and Jain. The gangly giant looked like he’d been up all night partying. Skin was a shade or two paler than usual and a rash of stubble covered his face, almost reaching his eyes. ‘It feels like you think I’ve done something.’

  ‘We’re treating you with suspicion, Mr Alexander, because we have reason to be suspicious.’ Hunter glanced down at his notebook, still pretty much just an empty page. ‘We’re investigating three related crimes and we need to identify your whereabouts for each of them.’

  ‘Feels like you’re fitting me up here.’ Neil swept his lank fringe over. ‘Steph’s still missing, abducted, and you’re sitting here with me.’

  ‘Nobody’s trying to do anything other than get the truth out of you.’

  Neil smirked. ‘And the truth can never be twisted, right?’

  ‘I’m not interested in that.’ Hunter waved to the side. ‘And neither is DS Jain here.’

  Neil started rolling up the sleeves of his bus driver’s uniform. The shirt was nominally white but looked like it’d been washed with a Hearts strip a few times, giving it a pale maroon tone. ‘Don’t you think you guys should be out there finding Steph?’

  ‘We have units out searching for her.’ Jain nibbled at her bottom lip, her fists clenched tight, like she was going to lurch across the table and crack him one. ‘It would be nice to know if we’re in the room with the person who’s taken her.’

  ‘Me?’ Neil gave a narrow-eyed smile. ‘I’ve not taken her.’

  ‘So prove it.’

  ‘Definitely sounds like I should have a lawyer in here.’

  We’re getting nowhere with this punk.

  ‘Mr Alexander—’

  The interview room door opened with a crunch and Cullen stormed in, face like his beloved Aberdeen had thrown away a five-goal lead. He perched on the end of the table. ‘My name’s DS Scott Cullen and I’m the Deputy SIO on this case. Can I call you Neil?’

  ‘Prefer Mr A
lexander, but I’ll let you away with it.’

  ‘I work in the murder squad. We call it the Major Investigation Team internally, but I’m sure you can imagine what major investigation we’re carrying out?’

  ‘Aye, Robert Quarrie’s murder.’ Neil’s raised eyebrow was just visible under his fringe. ‘Which I had nothing to do with.’

  ‘It would help me out greatly if you could exclude yourself from suspicion.’ Cullen leaned close to Neil. ‘Where were you yesterday afternoon at three?’

  Neil adjusted his green Oxfam wristband, then nodded. ‘I was working.’

  ‘Driving the bus?’

  ‘That’s right. Number 12. I was struggling to cope with what’s happened to Steph and I thought it might take my mind off not finding her. It didn’t.’

  Cullen walked over to the other side of the table and spoke in an undertone: ‘I’ll get Lauren and Si Buxton to take over here. You pair know his supervisor, so can you confirm this alibi?’

  Jain snapped her notebook shut. ‘Whatever you say, boss.’

  The bus station canteen was morning-shift busy, reeking of charred meat fat and the sweet stink of tomato ketchup. Two drivers at the next table were tucking into breakfasts barely contained by their large plates.

  Hunter stretched his legs out. Even just thinking about the hammering his knee had taken over the past two days made it seize up. ‘We’re merely trying to pin down Mr Alexander’s whereabouts at around three o’clock yesterday afternoon. Do you recall–’

  ‘How many times do you want me to go over it?’ Jim Archibald’s voice was barely audible above the bus station canteen’s almighty din. The effect of the uniform wasn’t as strong today. ‘Why are you asking that?’

  ‘Because it’ll help rule Mr Alexander out of our enquiries.’

  ‘Will it now?’ Archibald dropped his roll onto the plate and a flabby slice of bacon dropped out, half-eaten and smeared with red sauce. ‘Are you listening close? Cos I can go slow if you need me to?’

  Hunter looked at him sidelong and raised both eyebrows. ‘Just get on with it.’

  Archibald wiped his hands together, dusting them off. ‘The boy was working yesterday afternoon. Supposed to be out on the first run this morning as well to make up for the time he’s had off, but then you lot got him to go into the police station.’ His tongue darted around his sharp teeth, searching for that elusive shard of bacon. ‘Had to drive young Ian out to Musselburgh so he could take over. Complete shambles, if you ask me.’

  Hunter was close to grabbing Archibald’s union tie and smacking his head off the table. ‘So what route was he on yesterday?’

  ‘Usual one. 12.’

  Hunter checked his notebook. It tallied. Bugger. ‘Which direction would he have been travelling in?’

  ‘At three?’ Archibald took another bite and chewed slowly, staring off to the side. ‘He’d have been going through Corstorphine towards the Gyle.’

  Wait a second… Corstorphine wasn’t far from Cramond. Three miles, tops.

  ‘So, where exactly was he?’

  ‘I know exactly where he was.’ Archibald chomped on the roll, chewing a couple of times before swallowing. A big splodge of butter and red sauce smeared his lips. ‘He’ll have been at the big Tesco in Corstorphine.’

  ‘You can prove—’

  Hunter’s Airwave chimed on his chest. ‘Control to PC Hunter.’

  Terrific.

  Hunter got up and walked off to a quiet corner before tapping the answer button. ‘Receiving. Safe to talk.’

  ‘It’s Mags, Craig. I’ve just got a call in about a red Hyundai matching your plates at the Shawfield building site.’

  37

  Hunter powered down the damp street, the trail of rain blowing red in the rear-view. ‘So, did you get my text this morning?’

  Jain looked over from the passenger seat. ‘Now’s not the time, believe me.’

  Hunter drove on, passing a row of new-build houses, partway through construction, just a couple protected from the elements. An orange glow flickered ahead, surrounded by the blue swirl of sirens. He pulled in and got out, storming across the muddy road.

  Flames tore at the Hyundai’s already blackened shell from one side, water jets from the other. The fire was clearly winning.

  The fire service Watch Manager was standing a few yards back, observing the spectacle and shaking his head at the flames, his white helmet gleaming in the thick smoke.

  Jain jogged over and flashed her warrant card. ‘DS Chantal Jain.’

  ‘Jim Heaton.’ He didn’t take his eyes off the blaze. ‘You lot are quick getting here.’

  ‘We were in Portobello and the old “blues and twos” still clears rush-hour traffic.’ Jain shielded her eyes with her hand. ‘What’s happened?’

  ‘Not had a chance to get a look at it.’ Heaton pointed at the burning car. ‘For obvious reasons.’

  ‘Funny.’

  ‘All right, all right. You lot are always the same.’ Heaton shook his head and finally settled eyes on her. Gave her a good going over. ‘Anyway, I’d say it was torched.’

  ‘How can you tell?’

  ‘Because the fuel tank’s not gone up yet.’ Back looking at the fire. ‘Just got to make sure it doesn’t set any of these houses up. Assuming it’s not a diesel, of—’

  BANG.

  The fire exploded into life, the flames climbing into the mid-blue sky to the height of the surrounding house carcasses.

  Hunter stepped back. The air felt like it was ablaze.

  The air stank of roasting goat, coming from all directions. The sun felt like it needed factor five million to stop burning.

  Movement to the right caught his eyes.

  A man wearing a hoodie, with the hood pulled up. Tall and lumbering. He clocked Hunter and froze.

  Neil Alexander.

  He sped off down a lane between two half-built houses.

  ‘Chantal!’ Hunter darted after him, a blast of pain lancing his knee and slowing him to a trot. ‘It’s Neil!’ He stopped at the edge of the plots, a pile of mud someone would eventually turn into gardens.

  The light from the fire tore across, catching Neil’s loping stride just before he disappeared behind the silvery wall of a new house. Seconds later, metal rattled.

  You’re not getting away, pal.

  Hunter rounded the building and sprinted forward. He clattered into a metal fence and tumbled backwards, landing arse first in the wet mud.

  ‘Get up, you idiot.’ Jain reached under his armpits and hauled him up. ‘Where’d he go?’

  ‘Over that.’

  She scanned up and down the chain-link fence. ‘Boost me.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Just do it!’

  ‘Right, right.’ Hunter knelt down and splayed his hands together.

  Jain rested her boot on them, lighter than he expected, and she clawed her way up the fence links, cat-like. Even landed on her feet after vaulting over the top. ‘Come on!’

  ‘Easy for you to say.’ Hunter gripped the fence and stuck his feet into the links. Then upwards, one fistful of steel at a time until he was at the top. He dropped down and his knee gave way. He slid forward, smearing mud up his trousers right up to the arse. Again.

  ‘Buggeration.’

  He hoisted himself up and started jogging, mud flying off his boots like he was mountain biking. Then through another gap between two houses much closer to completion, just missing their roof slates. Onto the tarmac of a new road, houses stretched in both directions, tiny boxes rammed together.

  Jain clattered over the tarmac towards him. ‘We’ve bloody lost him.’

  38

  Hunter leaned against Jain’s car and let the water soak through his thin jacket, an attempt to shift some of the mud. ‘It’s Neil Alexander, this whole thing. Everything.’

  Jain didn’t look over, just stared at the ground. ‘What?’

  ‘He’s the one who took Doug Ferguson.’ Hunter thumbed back the way. ‘He�
�s the one driving that red bloody Hyundai.’

  ‘Neil Alexander’s in the station, Craig.’ Cullen took another go at sorting out his hair, then gave up, leaving a tuft at the back. ‘Your boss is still interviewing him. We need a really detailed statement from him.’

  Hunter slumped back against the car and stared up at the sky. Drops of rain fired down on his face. ‘That can’t be right.’

  ‘Sure it wasn’t one of those skinheads you saw?’

  ‘Scott, it was Neil Alexander.’ Hunter shifted his hand back and forth between him and Jain. ‘We saw him, right? Chantal?’

  ‘I saw a tall guy in a hoodie.’ Jain shivered in the rain. ‘Could’ve been Neil Alexander, but I didn’t get a look at him.’

  Cullen grimaced at her. ‘Sounds like one of your skinheads, Craig.’

  ‘I don’t bloody believe this…’

  Cullen raised his Airwave. ‘Want me to call Lauren?’

  Hunter held his gaze and shrugged. ‘Might be an idea.’

  Cullen stabbed a button on the device, shaking his head. ‘DS Scott Cullen to DS Lauren Reid. Over.’

  ‘Receiving. I need to—’

  ‘Lauren, can you confirm the whereabouts of one Neil Alexander?’

  ‘He’s not here.’

  ‘What?’ Cullen looked away, rubbing his forehead. ‘Where the hell is he?’

  ‘Finished the interview half an hour ago. I’m shatter—’

  ‘Right. Thanks.’ Cullen stared over at the blaze for a few seconds, licking his lips. Then he locked his gaze on Hunter. ‘Have you got anything on him?’

  ‘A thanks wouldn’t go amiss.’

  ‘Craig, drop it. Look, I don’t like this. Feels too easy.’

  ‘Why don’t you admit that you just don’t believe me?’

  Cullen smiled at Hunter. ‘Look, Craig. I just need you to prove it.’

  ‘No, you need to believe me and we need to find this guy.’ Hunter took a step forward and widened his eyes at Cullen. ‘Come on, Scott, I know you. You’re the one cop I know who does the right thing regardless of the possible cost to himself.’