by Val Penny
Hunter was taking Meera out to the cinema this evening. He would let her choose the film: he hoped she might go for Welcome to the Punch or Parker, but he really didn’t mind. He was looking forward to spending the evening with her and, perhaps a bite to eat afterwards. Now that he had tidied his home, he could even invite her back at the end of the night.
When all the work was done, Hunter felt a bit sticky and sweaty all over. He should really clean and tidy on a more regular basis, but housework always came very low on his list of priorities. He doubted that would change, even for Meera, any time soon.
He jumped into the shower, washed himself thoroughly, and chose to wear a smart cotton blue-striped shirt, a brown V-necked sweater and smart blue chinos. He looked at himself in the mirror and nodded.
“That will have to do,” he muttered, as he jogged down the stairs to the car.
He wanted to make sure he was at the cinema complex (Vue, on Leith Street) far too early, so Meera was not left waiting for him on her own. The place was always crowded, and not everybody was pleasant. He was beginning to feel quite protective about Meera. But she was so independent that he was sure she wouldn’t approve of that, if she found out.
Hunter parked in the St James car park and crossed the street to the venue. As he looked across the busy foyer he was surprised to catch sight of Tim Myerscough smiling and laughing with Gillian Pearson. Hunter looked away, sharply. That was their own business, in their own time. Soon he noticed Meera arrive, and didn’t give Tim or Gillian a second thought.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Today was going to be a busy day. Jane and Rachael had less than a week to finalise the arrangements for their wedding. They had made an appointment to see the florist early, before they went into work. The morning sky offered a pale blue background to the clouds bathed in pale pinks, greys and yellows, and the sun blinked through the strands of clouds, promising a lovely, warm spring day.
“I hope the sun is shining on our wedding day,” Rachael smiled.
“Me too,” Jane agreed. “Maybe one day we can get married for real, and not just this blessing of our civil partnership.”
“This is our wedding, Janey, please,” Rachael said firmly as they entered the shop.
“Trisha, it is so good of you to let us come in so early,” Jane said to the florist.
“No problem. I have to get to the flower markets early anyway, and I have a complicated wreath to make for a funeral later in the week, so I wanted to get it started, sketching the design.”
“Well, we appreciate it,” Rachael said.
“Ooh, is this the design?” Jane asked.
“Yes, it is really unusual. The client wants me to put a copy of A A Milne’s Winnie the Pooh in the centre, surrounded by yellow carnations and petunias. I rarely get asked to use these flowers because of their meaning.”
“Gosh, do flowers have different meanings? What do these ones mean?” Rachael asked.
“The petunia is said to symbolise resentment and anger, while the yellow carnation is for rejection and disdain.”
“Goodness! Don’t use them in our bouquets. Who ordered that, then?” Rachael asked.
“The man paid cash. I don’t know his name.”
“It must be quite an expensive wreath,” Rachael said.
“Well above average. So I told him about the flowers, of course. He said they were favourite flowers of the deceased and nobody would care about the meaning. So I just do what I’m asked. First time I’ve ever had to put a book in a wreath, though. I’d have thought it would get destroyed quite quickly, given our weather!”
“What did he look like? What are the instructions for delivery to the funeral?” Jane said.
“He came in yesterday. He said the details of the funeral hadn't been fixed yet, but he'll phone me as soon as he has them.”
“A bit vague for an expensive wreath like that,” Jane said.
“Yes, if he hadn't paid up front, I wouldn't be doing anything yet. Now, let me try to remember: he was medium height, light brown hair, nothing special, a bit of a beard. The thing I noticed most was his accent. It was European, maybe German or Swiss, or even Belgian. Why are you so interested?”
“We have an interest in a case involving Winnie the Pooh,” said Jane.
“Did he steal your honey?” Trisha joked.
“Not quite,” Jane smiled.
“Come on now. No more talk of funerals. Let’s see that you are happy with the style of bouquets for your big day.”
***
“Right, people, can we have a bit of quiet?” DCI Allan Mackay called the briefing room to order. “Does anybody know where DI Wilson is?”
“Just behind you, Sir. I had to take a call.” Hunter came in quietly carrying a large mug of coffee. There was no doubt, from the delicious smell, that it came from the coffee maker in his office, and was not the instant coffee available to most of those in the room.
“Jane, did Mrs Roberts identify the man she saw?” Hunter asked.
“No, Sir, but she did rule out Brian Squires.”
Hunter nodded. “I think Squires only comes into play when The Lizard needs muscle. So he doesn’t have to get his own hands dirty.”
“We did learn something strange from our florist, though,” Rachael commented.
“And?” asked Mackay.
“She has had an order for a funeral wreath with a copy of Winnie the Pooh in the centre and flowers meaning I hate you around the outside.”
“That can only be for George’s funeral. Do we have a date for that yet, Sir?” Hunter asked Mackay.
“No, but it’s easy enough to tell a florist that a funeral has been postponed.”
“Well, Sir, he told the florist that he didn't know the details of the funeral yet, but wanted to be sure the wreath was ready in time,” Jane said.
“I don’t suppose they paid with a credit card?” Mackay asked.
“No, Sir, cash.”
“Did the florist remember anything about the customer, DC Anderson?” Mackay asked Rachael.
“Medium height, medium hair, beard and foreign accent.”
“Could be either Reinbold or Merkel,” said Hunter.
“It doesn’t mean either of them killed George, Boss. Just that they’re glad he’s gone,” Bear said.
“Well, I’m not!” Hunter slammed his fist on the desk. “I want to get the bastard who murdered that frightened old man. Whatever he did as a kid, he didn’t deserve for anybody to be judge, jury and executioner.”
“Take photos down to the florist and see what she says, will you, DC Anderson?” Mackay asked.
“What else did we find out? Colin?” Hunter asked quietly.
Colin smiled. “We did okay, I think, Boss.”
“We followed that car all the way to Edinburgh Airport from Folkestone,” Nadia said. “It was a black-haired man with a well-trimmed beard who drove north, but we lost him in the airport.”
“How did you do that? There’s CCTV all over the bloody airport!”
“I know, Boss, but not in the Gents. He went in, but never came out.”
“Disguise?” Hunter asked.
“Must have been.” Colin said.
“A different foreign-looking man drove the car from the airport to Thomson’s Top Cars,” Nadia added.
“Mel, have a look and see what you can find, will you? A fresh pair of eyes might help. Tim, any luck your end?”
Tim nodded and swallowed the last piece of his bacon sandwich. He took a mouthful of coffee to wash it down. That earned him a frown from Mackay.
“Heinrich Reinbold and Max Merkel both arrived here recently. Merkel flew in from Germany, Reinbold came on Eurostar, both came through London. Reinbold came to take up his promotion. We have no specific proof of why Merkel is here, but he said it is to examine works of art. That certainly makes sense, given that’s what he does for a living.”
“Both have told us they did not know George was here,” Rachael added. “But Rein
bold told his bosses that he had family here, and Merkel asked his chauffeur to stop in Gilmerton on the way to The Bruce Hotel.”
“The driver says Merkel took a picture of George’s house,” Tim said.
“How did the driver know it was George’s house?” Colin Reid asked.
“Well, he took a photo of a house in that street, my guess is it was George’s place,” Tim replied.
“You know how I feel about guesses, Tim. What do we know about the timeline at Thomson’s?” Hunter asked.
“It was a dark-haired man who brought the car in, and a brown-haired bearded man who arrived later when Frankie was leaving, and Jenny told her Mum she was going for a test-drive with a customer,” Mel said.
“Surely that wasn’t within Jenny’s job remit?” Hunter asked.
“I doubt it, but she was the only one there. I suppose she thought she was doing the right thing. She wouldn’t think about the age of the Volvo he was asking about,” Tim commented.
“Mel, go down and show Jamie and Frankie the photos of Merkel and Reinbold again. And take a copy of the images Nadia and Colin got from the car’s journey north this time, too. They might recognise the driver.”
Hunter ensured that every member of his team had all the information that had been gathered. Then he went downstairs to find PC Angus McKenzie and PC Neil Larkin. He would require them to track down June Dormer from Katz and Roundall by going round to her home. So far, the woman had managed to avoid Hunter’s request for contact. His patience had run out.
***
“Boss, can I have a word with you?” Rachael asked.
“Of course,” replied Hunter. He led the way to his office and closed the door behind her. “What can I do for you, Rachael? Not last-minute nerves, is it? Jane will be gutted!” Hunter joked.
“No, Sir. We are really looking forward to the big day. And we have time off for our honeymoon, you know.”
Hunter smiled. “I won’t block that leave.”
“I know, Sir. I am also aware that after we get back, we, that is Jane and I, should work on different teams. Jane enjoys working with you and the team, but she would love to transfer to the Major Incident Team when Police Scotland comes into being next month.”
“Jane is a great detective. I am glad she’s considering a move to MIT. She’s exactly what they're looking for.”
“Several of the team are thinking about it.”
“I know. It will be interesting to see how the new single force develops,” Hunter said.
“But I have decided that I want to apply to join the Witness Support Team. Will you approve my application, Boss?” Rachael asked.
“You will be an excellent member of that group, Rachael. I am sure that is a good move for you. I will be delighted to support your application, but you do know there will be special training involved?”
“Oh yes, Sir. I'm ready for that.”
“I will be sorry to lose you.”
“Thank you, Sir. Before I go, I want to help find out who killed George. And Jenny.”
“Let’s get that done, and stem the flood of cocaine pouring into our city. In the meantime, go and speak to your florist. See if she recognises any of our suspects.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Jamie was on his way back to The Western General Hospital. He had to get his arm checked to see if the pins were holding. It was irritating him that he couldn’t drive. Everything took so much longer when he had to use public transport. Still, he had now got the knack of buying a day pass on the buses and jumping on and off them just like the old folk did. It was all right for them; they got some kind of coffin-dodgers’ bus pass that got them free bus travel. It wasn’t fair that he had to pay for his ticket.
As Jamie got off the bus, inside the hospital grounds, he started to look around to see exactly which way he should go. Then he caught sight of The Lizard walking up from the car park carrying a bunch of corner-shop flowers. Jamie got his bearings and walked away, head down, ignoring the bully who had overseen the breaking of his arm. It was his bowling arm. He might never throw a strike again, but at least he could lift a pint with the other one.
But The Lizard must have spotted him, because he called out, “Jamie, young Jamie, good to see you. Your mam’ll be right pleased I’ve seen you out and about looking so well.”
“Was she right pleased you broke my fuckin’ arm, ya bloody wanker, Lizard? Out of my way, or I’ll put this cast to good use and shove it down your throat.”
“Now, that’s not a nice way to speak, is it lad? I had nothing to do with your poorly arm. If you recall, it was Brian Squires who did that. He has an uncontrollable temper.”
“That’s not quite right though, is it, Lizard? You were there. You’re the boss and you ordered Squires what to do. We both know that Brian Squires couldn’t wipe his arse without being told what to do by you, Lizard. Why were you so worried about that old car, anyway?”
“No reason, lad, no reason.”
“Well, word on the street says it was blowing a snowstorm in that Volvo, and your name was all over it. If they’re right, that would explain a lot.”
“Don’t believe all you hear, Jamie, lad. It might not be good for your health,” The Lizard sneered menacingly.
“Piss off, Lizard.” Jamie nipped into the hospital and went straight to reception so The Lizard couldn’t follow him and punish him for his cheek.
***
The Lizard growled after him, but did not follow Jamie. The lad was not worth any grief to him today, but he didn’t like the sound of that rumour the lad had heard.
Lenny The Lizard turned into the Anne Ferguson Building and took the stairs up to Ward 51. He did his best to keep fit. His mother was receiving treatment for her heart, and that weakness might be hereditary. The Lizard had no desire to make an early exit from this world. He and Janice were having way too much fun, even if that did come at a high price. No wonder Ian Thomson had got into robbing banks; that woman was an expensive luxury.
Every time he went to visit his mother, he was more and more impressed by the patience and dedication shown by the nurses. They had told him not to expect too much, but his mother thought she was on the mend. Who was he to disabuse her of that? The poor old bat looked so frail. He knew she wouldn’t be getting home any time soon. He knew that she wouldn’t get out of hospital until care could be put in place to allow her to continue to live at home. So he gave her the flowers, and pretended to listen to her grumble about the food, the draught from the window and the uncomfortable bed.
In reality, Lenny The Lizard sat and thought: working out what could possibly be arranged about the cocaine from the car that was unaccounted for. He didn’t want the rumour Jamie had heard spreading any further, but he had already spent the money he was due.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Tim was glad to have a day off. He had a busy day planned. His first task was to meet his sister, Ailsa, from the airport. She worked so hard, as a doctor in Accident and Emergency at King’s Hospital in London, that Tim was glad she was flying north for a few days off so that she could attend Jane and Rachael’s celebrations.
Edinburgh Airport was busy as Tim waited for Ailsa to come through to the Arrivals area. He was glad her flight was on time; he didn’t like waiting for anything, not even Ailsa.
As he glanced around the crowds of people mulling about, Tim was shaken out of his reverie when his phone rang. He was surprised when Hunter’s number came up on his screen.
“Boss?” Tim answered his phone.
“Tim, before you ask, I remember you are off today, but I wondered if you could do something for me. Are you going to see your dad?”
“Yes, with my sister. Our visit is sanctioned for this afternoon.”
“That’s what I thought. We’ve had a call from the prison governor, Elliott Smith. More cocaine has found its way into the prison. Can you stop in to speak to him while you’re there?”
“Sure, Boss.” Tim tried not to sound as
angry as he felt. Some day off. He didn’t even notice Ailsa walking towards him.
“You look thrilled to see me,” she said, as she took his arm.
“Sorry, Sis. I’ve just had the boss on asking me to speak to the prison governor while we’re at Saughton.”
“Never off duty, huh?” Ailsa said. “Come on, let’s grab a coffee here before we make our way over to see Dad. You can fill me in on all I need to know.”
***
Visiting his father was always difficult. Partly because of the humiliation of seeing his dad amongst the criminals, and partly because he worried about the beatings his dad suffered, from the criminals his dad had put away, and those who saw him as an easy target when Ian Thomson was not around.
Tim was aware that this was the first time Ailsa had been to the prison. He found the frisking and searching they had to endure unpleasant. He also knew his sister well enough to know that she would find it most unnerving.
“That was the most humiliating experience I have ever had to endure,” she whispered to him.
“And it won't get any better any time soon,” Tim said. As They walked into the visiting room, Tim saw his statuesque blonde sister blush. The wolf whistles and nudges were obviously not for him.
“Ailsa, darling.” Sir Peter kissed his daughter lightly on the cheek.
“Dad,” she said, and took a chair opposite him. The room was stuffy but smelled of disinfectant and soap. Loud, threatening calls and noises invaded her ears. Ailsa stared at her father’s bruised face. The brightly-coloured identifiers that all the inmates were required to wear clearly marked her father out as one of the prisoners. Suddenly, she was overwhelmed. Tears pricked the back of her eyes.
“Oh, Dad. How did all this happen? Why did you let it happen?” she asked.
Her father reached out to hold her hand and comfort her, but a prison officer corrected him.
“No touching. You know better than that, Sir Peter,” he said.
“Are you okay, Dad?” Ailsa asked.