Hunter's Revenge

by Val Penny

  “Ha, ha, your jokes don’t get any better, Detective Sergeant Wilson. Long time no see. It’s been lovely.”

  “Never mind my jokes, and it’s Detective Inspector Wilson to you.” Hunter nodded to Tim to take the seat on The Lizard’s other side.

  “He’s a big lad, isn’t he? Must have eaten his porridge,” The Lizard said. Then looking at Tim, he added, “You must be that lying cheating bastard, Peter fucking Myerscough’s son. You look too much like him to be anyone else.”

  “I am, and I’m an even bigger bastard than my father, who’s Sir Peter fucking Myerscough to you,” growled Tim.

  “I heard he’s in the big house.”

  “Will your friends be joining you for breakfast, Mr Pratt?” The young waiter came over and started pouring coffee for Hunter and Tim.

  “These are no friends of mine, Gustav, and they won’t be staying for breakfast.”

  “Of course, Mr Pratt. You are looking very smart this morning, Sir. No tracksuit for your usual morning jog like before?”

  “I had time to shower and change after my run today, Gustav. That will be all, thank you.” Lenny The Lizard dismissed the waiter with a wave.

  “Good service here,” Hunter commented.

  Lenny smiled. “It is why I use Gemuetliche Erholung hotels whenever I can. The staff all know me.”

  “And do they know that your friends Arjun Mansoor and Ian Thomson are in prison?” Hunter asked.

  “No friends of mine. I’m with Ian Thomson’s old lady now. He’s no too happy about it, but she’s a fine woman. And Arjun’s a fool.”

  “What makes you say that about Arjun? I thought he was a friend of yours?”

  “He was an associate, that’s true. He’s not much of a businessman, though. Thought he could take over the supply of snow to Scotland. You can’t do that single-handed. That’s why he got caught.”

  “So how would you do it, Lizard?” Hunter asked.

  “Goodness, me, Inspector, I’m not that kind of man.”

  “What kind of man are you, then? You’ve stolen your friend’s wife, assaulted his son and threatened his nephew. That’s not a nice kind of man. It's certainly not one who would think twice about making off with an old car as well.”

  “I did not steal the lovely Janice. Is it my fault if she could not resist my charms? And I was there when poor Jamie was injured, but he did not suffer at my hand. And Frankie, young Frankie, maybe he misunderstood what I said. Anyway, the stupid bastards lost my fucking car, didn’t they? I only wanted to collect it after a bit of a service. You know, to give Ian a bit of business in his time of difficulty.”

  “What do you mean, it was your car, Lizard?” Hunter asked. “Jamie said the mechanic at Thomson’s Top Cars was told there was a buyer willing to pay eight grand for the car by the customer who took it in. And that wasn't you. What would make you think you could get it for zip-all?”

  “And why was a ten-year-old Volvo worth breaking the boy’s arm for?” Tim added. “What was in the car that made it so valuable?”

  “I always thought of the car as mine. Sentimental value, only, really, for that old car. It belongs to my dear old mum.”

  “Funny name you mother’s got, Keith Black,” Tim said quietly. “When did she move to Folkestone? Was it for her sex change?”

  “Well, perhaps I did leave out a few details.” Lenny The Lizard had the good grace to blush.

  “I think we’ll need to chat about this in more detail down at the station. Lizard, my colleagues will drive you there. DC Myerscough and I have other business here.”

  The two uniformed officers led The Lizard to the police car outside the hotel.

  ***

  “Now, young Myerscough,” Hunter said, “let’s find your friend Max Merkel, shall we? You take the lead, he’ll recognise your family name.”

  “I don't know him, but I know of him, Boss. He and my dad have done business, so, yes, I'm sure he'll know the name.”

  The detectives went to the reception desk to find out which room was occupied by Merkel, and took the lift to the top floor. Hunter knocked on the door and stood back so that Tim was in line of sight. The door was opened abruptly by a man on the phone in agitated conversation. His English was highly accented and difficult to follow; his meaning was not. He was extremely angry about something.

  Hunter and Tim entered the spacious suite and stood quietly waiting for him to finish.

  “Apologies. Herren Katz and Roundall, is it not?”

  “No, Mr Merkel,” Tim glanced at Hunter. “I am Detective Constable Myerscough and this is Detective Inspector Wilson, we are from Lothian and Borders Police.”

  “Mein Gott! Not more problems. Can no fool in this country get anything right? What now?”

  “What do you mean?” Tim asked. “Who has been creating problems for you, sir?”

  “You don’t know? Then no matter. I am trying to obtain a valuable book collection that I understood was to be valued by Katz and Roundall, and it seems to have gone ‘up into the air’, I think you say. It does not fill me with confidence for the auction I try to arrange with them.”

  “A collection has gone missing? What kind of collection? This could be very serious,” Hunter said.

  “A valuable collection of first edition books was to be available from Katz and Roundall and it is now not. And there is no sign of it anywhere. Very odd. The owner died, you know.”

  “Indeed, that does seem odd,” Hunter said softly.

  “Anyway, how can I help the police, when I have just arrived in your country?” Merkel paused and looked at Tim. “What do you say your name is? Myerscough? You must be your father’s son,” the man laughed. “I mean you must be the son of my client Sir Peter Myerscough, you are very like your father in the face, but more tall.”

  “Yes, I get told that a lot,” Tim smiled.

  “We just wanted a brief word with you, Mr Merkel. Are you happy to speak here?” Hunter asked.

  “Yes, we will sit at the table. Shall I order coffee?”

  “Thank you, but I don’t think we’ll be that long,” Hunter replied.

  “Fine. Now, what is the matter?”

  “You were seen yesterday in the hotel lounge speaking to a Mr Lenny Pratt. Do you know him well?”

  “I did sit with another guest, we were alone in the bar and joined each other for a quiet drink. I do not think we exchanged names. I certainly have never seen him before.”

  Tim took out his notebook and jotted down Merkel’s reply.

  “I think your father died when you were very young, Mr Merkel,” Hunter said.

  “He was murdered when I was only three years old. It was a very bad act. Especially hard on my mother.”

  “Of course. It must have been. Did you know that George Reinbold, the man accused of that murder, lived here, in Edinburgh?”

  “Lived? He has died?”

  “He was murdered a few days ago.”

  “That is good news. I have waited a long time to know this,” Merkel said defiantly.

  “Do you know who committed this crime?” Hunter asked, in a measured tone of voice.

  “I do not think of it as a crime. I think it is only karma for the justice that evil man ran away from decades ago.”

  “His family suffered,” Hunter said.

  “So did mine.”

  “Did you have anything to do with George Reinbold’s death?”

  “Sadly no, but I will happily reward the hero when you identify them.”

  “Did you arrange for George Reinbold to be killed?”

  “No, I did not. How could I, when I did not know he was here?”

  “What brought you to Edinburgh, then?”

  “It is a beautiful city with many great art galleries and auction houses. I wanted to view, and perhaps secure, some articles before I move south to the galleries and auction houses of London, Amsterdam and Paris. I love Paris in the springtime.” Merkel smiled.

  Hunter nodded. “Just one more
thing, do you know a Mr. Arjun Mansoor, Mr Merkel?”

  “Indeed, yes. I have a client by that name. He has a wonderful eye for gold jewellery and Middle Eastern furnishings. His purchases are always most tasteful. Just like your father's,” he looked at Tim.

  “Thank you, Mr Merkel.” Hunter stood up. “Will you be here long?”

  “I had only planned to stay a few days, but now I think I may stay to watch that criminal’s end. I would very much like to watch him burn here, before he burns in hell. When will the funeral be?”

  “I couldn’t say, sir. The body has not been released,” Hunter said.

  “No matter, after so many decades, what’s a few days? Goodbye, gentlemen.” Merkel held the door open for Hunter and Tim.

  On the way back to reception Hunter turned to Tim and said, “I want to know when Merkel actually arrived in Edinburgh. It didn’t feel to me that time had healed many wounds there.”

  “No, Sir, I think the milk of human kindness may have curdled. Funny what he said about that book collection. Do you think it was George’s he was talking about?”

  “I do. I’ll find out from Jane exactly what she said to Katz and Roundall when she took the Winnie the Pooh book to be valued. I’m so glad I took the books to my father, for all sorts of reasons now. I'm not happy that he knows Mansoor. He is always bad news. Before we go back to the station, let’s see if we can get hold of Heinrich Reinbold. I would like to talk to him, too.”

  ***

  “You were lucky to catch me, detectives; I was about to leave for a meeting in Glasgow, concerning our new hotel there. Again, it is very central, we are pleased with the move into Scotland.” Heinrich Reinbold smiled a bright white straight-toothed smile that must have cost a fortune. His thick head of dark blond hair was not so much styled as coiffed, and his chin was covered in designer stubble. He looked high-maintenance.

  “When did you arrive in Edinburgh, Mr Reinbold?” Hunter asked.

  “I arrived here at the beginning of the month. First, I was in Glasgow. Then this hotel joined our chain last week. I wanted to be in Edinburgh to see the contract finalised and be here for that. Aberdeen is next month, but I plan to make Edinburgh my home base.”

  “Have you visited anybody since you arrived?”

  “What do you mean? I have visited a real estate agent and signed on to the register of a doctor, and had a most agreeable visit with a young Vietnamese woman at The Empire Massage Suite in Lothian Road.”

  “Indeed, Mr Reinbold. Did you visit a Mr Arjun Mansoor or perhaps any relatives?”

  “I do not know that name, and I am the last living member of my family, DI Wilson. Due to an unfortunate incident before I was born, most of my family were killed or tortured by the Stasi. I am a soul all alone in the world.”

  “You are now, sir, but until a few days ago a man who I believe was your uncle, George Reinbold, was alive, and had been living here since he was a young man. Did you know that?” Hunter stared into Heinrich’s eyes.

  “My uncle was George Reinbold, but how could I know that? He escaped from the Deutsche Demokratische Republik and was never heard from again. It was particularly hard on my mother. She was his twin sister and loved him very much. She was always loyal to him, but she had me, so life was not easy. She forgave him; I never could.”

  “He was well-respected here, but he was violently murdered, only a few days ago, after you arrived here. Do you know anything about that?”

  “No. Had I known my uncle lived here I might have made a point to meet him. Or maybe instead I would have taken the job in Paris.” Heinrich’s voice became increasingly quiet. He avoided meeting Hunter’s searching gaze.

  Hunter drew the meeting to a close. He was now sure that Heinrich was George's nephew. He did not think any of the three men were telling him the whole truth or even all they knew, but at least he had a chance to have another go at The Lizard.

  ***

  Hunter and Tim were on their way back to the station when a call came through to inform them of a person of interest who had been stopped at Edinburgh Airport on his way into the country.

  “It seems they had a tip-off that somebody on the flight from Paris was a cocaine courier,” Hunter said to Tim. “This fellow was stopped at immigration. He was sweating profusely and did not look well.”

  “With reactions like that, he sounds like an internal carrier,” said Tim.

  “I agree, but the interesting thing is he doesn’t have much English, but he does have a name and address on a note inside his passport.”

  “What was it?”

  “I don’t know that, yet. He’s been taken over to the Western General Hospital for a scan, so let’s swing over there, before we head back to the ranch.”

  “No problem, Boss,” Tim said as he changed direction and headed for the hospital. But what about The Lizard?”

  “The Lizard can wait.”

  ***

  When they arrived and found their way to the Outpatients Department, a couple of uniformed officers were standing near the traveller. He looked sleepy.

  “Do we know his name?” Hunter asked them.

  “His passport says Hadi Akram, but he won’t say anything.”

  “What was the name and address on the note he was carrying?”

  The Constable got the piece of paper out of his jacket pocket and handed it to Hunter.

  “Tim, isn’t that Arjun Mansoor’s old address?” Hunter passed the note to Tim.

  “Yes, it is. I suppose his wife still lives there.”

  “But the name is different: Kasim Saleh. Maybe I’ll pay them a visit.”

  “Do you want me to go and check on The Lizard’s mum while we’re here, Boss?”

  “You do that, I’ll check with the doctors and find out if Mr Akram is likely to survive. I’ll meet you back at the car. Good work, officers.”

  Hunter left the PCs to guard Mr Akram.

  Chapter Nineteen

  It was early evening when Jamie clambered out of the taxi that had brought him home from the hospital. He was glad to be out; the nurses weren’t as pretty as the last time he had been in, and with his arm in this cast, he couldn’t do much. He was also glad to see Frankie had got someone guarding the house. He didn’t care what the neighbours thought. He was sick about his Jenny: dead in the boot of a car. He knew her mam hadn’t liked him before – she must hate him now.

  He wandered up the path and unlocked the front door, nursing his broken arm. He slipped off his jacket and went first to the kitchen where he got a can of beer out of the fridge. Then he heard Frankie coming down the stairs.

  “Thanks for coming in quietly, cuz. That’s the girls off to sleep at last,” Frankie said. “Suppose I’m making tea again? What do you want to eat? Fish and chips, pie and chips or sausage and chips?”

  “Dunno.”

  “Baked beans or peas?”

  “Don’t care.”

  “Jamie, you’ve got to eat. Starving yourself’ll no bring Jenny back.”

  “Aye.”

  “How about pie and baked beans and chips?”

  “A Govan salad?”

  “Okay.”

  “I wonder why The Lizard and his muscle Brian Squires were so angry about that fucking old Volvo? I mean, who cares about an old car like that?” Jamie asked.

  “Was it The Lizard that brought it in?”

  “No. I’d have known him. He’s with my mam.”

  “That’s what I thought. So why us? Looks like they used the showroom as a collection point again, do you think?”

  “That’s the sort of thing fucking Mansoor would do, cuz. Let’s eat and think about this. I’ll phone that pretty little copper after.”

  ***

  When they had finished their meal, Frankie cleared the plates away and went to wash the dishes. He didn’t want his twins growing up in a dirty home, and he knew by now, after living with Jamie for a few months, the only way to have the place clean and tidy was to do it himself.


  “You okay to tidy up and do the dishes while I phone Mel at the cop-shop, Frankie?”

  “Aye, like you’re gonny do it if I don’t,” Frankie grumbled.

  While Frankie went to make himself busy, he saw Jamie take out his phone and call Fettes Police Station. He saw how awkward it was for Jamie with only one hand, but didn't offer to help. Jamie never offered to help him, so let him struggle.

  ***

  Calling the police to offer them help was not something Jamie had ever really seen himself doing in the past. But it wasn’t the cops who broke his arm, and they did seem to be trying to do right by him and Frankie. Anyway, DC Mel Grant was pretty, and that big blond one, Myerscough, had been decent to him and Frankie when Brian Squires came in shouting the odds. Pity he hadn’t been there when the oaf came back with The Lizard.

  “Aye, hello, can I speak to Mel? Aye, DC Grant, that’s her. Well, can she call me back? It’s Jamie Thomson. It’s important. Oh aye, she’s got my number pal. We’re tight.” Jamie left his number anyway and flung himself down on the big, black reclining chair that he thought of as his seat. He had no sooner talked Frankie into getting them another beer when the phone rang.

  “Yep,” Jamie said as he picked up the phone. “Mel, darlin’! How lovely to hear your sweet voice. I knew you couldn’t resist calling me back.”

  “Jamie, you called me saying it was important. What’s going on? You and Frankie haven’t got into any more trouble have you?”

  “No. Not at all. I’m doing you a favour. Not the one I’d like to do you, but a favour anyway.”

  “Get on with it Jamie, I’m a busy person.”

  Jamie could hear she was getting irritated, so he stopped playing the smart arse and began to explain his thoughts.

  “Yes. Well, do you remember the big fat guy who came into the garage when you and Blondie were there?”

  “DC Myerscough. Yes.”

  “Well, Squires came back with The Lizard and broke my arm when he heard we’d lost the old Volvo.”

  “So I heard. My guess is it wasn’t your beer-drinking arm. You on the mend?”

  “I’ll get there. I’ll soon have two arms to put around you, darlin’.”