‘Not really…he could have spinal injuries; best to leave him until the paramedics get here.’
‘OK, you’re the one on the scene.’
‘I’ll go back up the hill and wait on the road.’
‘Anything else?’
‘You’re not going to like this…there’s a streak of black paint along the side of the car.’
‘Leave that to Edinburgh,’ Nicola instructed.
‘It’s not their territory; we’re just over the border into England,’
‘Jesus, that’s going to complicate the paperwork – glad it’s you and not me, Dougie. Let me know when they throw you back over the border.’
He ended the call with her laughter ringing in his ears.
*****
The police car halted at the side of the road where the marks led over the edge of it. Douglas walked briskly towards the car and halted by the driver’s door. The sergeant sitting at the wheel lowered the window.
‘Hello, sir, were you involved in the accident?’ he said.
‘No, we didn’t see it go off the road. I noticed the tyre tracks going over the verge and we stopped to investigate.’
‘Where’s the vehicle?’
‘Down the hill, about two hundred metres from the road; one occupant – he’s breathing with no sign of bleeding, but he’s probably hurt internally. They’ll need to cut him out of the car.’
The sergeant turned to the constable sitting next to him. ‘Check the paramedic is on his way and that the fire-crew has cutting gear…and ask them if there is a helicopter available.’
The sergeant turned back to Douglas. ‘Are you part of the emergency services?’
Douglas nodded. ‘Detective Constable in Glasgow.’
The sergeant nodded. ‘Were you the driver?’
‘No,’ Douglas said and pointed up the road towards the Bentley. ‘Lady Glendinning was driving the car.’
The sergeant nodded again and said: ‘Thank you, sir; we’ll have a word with her Ladyship.’
Douglas nodded to the sergeant, knowing he was dismissed as a civilian and turned to walk back towards Susanne and Jacqueline standing by the Bentley. As he walked he noticed the helicopter hovering in the distance; high enough and far enough away for the noise of the rotors to be inaudible against the wind – by the time he reached the car it had vanished.
Chapter 16
A week later: Friday afternoon
James Cameron-Smythe wandered around the living room wondering where to start. His brother had paid the rent until the end of the month and Joanna had removed her things and gone back to her mother’s. All the rest of the stuff in the flat was Henry’s and she said she wasn’t going to bloody shift it. His parents were due to arrive on Sunday with a van to take all Henry’s belongings and store them in their garage until he surfaced again.
He went into the kitchen and opened the fridge. It seemed Joanna had taken the precaution of emptying it, leaving only two small bottles of French beer. Touching one of the bottles he noticed it wasn’t very cold to the touch. Returning to the door, he tried the light switch to find Joanna had turned off the electricity. He went back to the fridge and removed one of the bottles of warm beer. Searching for a bottle opener he opened the cutlery drawer. She had removed most of the contents leaving only a blunt kitchen knife, two bent teaspoons, a box of matches and a rusty bottle opener – he opened the bottle with it and, as the waste bin had also disappeared, he left the cap on the worktop. Then he remembered was contents of the freezer. He opened the door, fearing the worst, and looked inside – it was empty. He sighed with relief and closed the door.
With the bottle in his hand he strolled into the living room: the TV, the computer, the Blu-ray player and the rest of the electronics had vanished leaving only a clutter of wires and the Broadband Router, presumably belonging to whichever Broadband supplier they had used. The books remained on the shelves in the alcove, with a few gaps were Joanna had removed the cookery books.
James ran his hand along the books until he came to Winnie the Pooh; the one that Henry had borrowed fifteen years before. He put the bottle down on the shelf and flipped the book out with a finger. He caught it, and opening it he ran through the story, recalling his mother’s voice as she to read him. On impulse he opened it at the last page where a tear in the binding led to a gap between the cloth cover and the board. He had hidden messages for his brother in there as a child and now he had problems probing the gap with his fingers and felt the edge of a piece of paper – his fingers were fatter than the last time he’d tried this. He carried the book through to the kitchen and opened the cutlery drawer. The blunt knife was the ideal tool for probing and he soon had the piece of paper in his hand. It opened out into an A4 sheet with numbers and a few words on it: Account, PIN, IBAN, Swift BIC, ID and Password. The final figure at the bottom of the page was: 2,450, 433.46 Euro. He finally understood what the police had been asking about; his brother had stolen money from the Scotia Investment Bank and hidden it in this account. The first step to accessing the money would be to match the first letters of the Swift BIC to the bank.
He sat down at the kitchen table and looked at the sheet of paper. Was it that simple? He could access the account with this information, but how could he get the money out of the account without signing anything – he didn’t know if he could forge his brother’s signature. Also, how much could he take out each time without the bank noticing and where would he put the money? It was obvious he needed the Cashpoint Card for this account and his brother must have one somewhere – unless he had taken it with him. He went back to Winnie the Pooh and looked carefully at the binding but he could see nothing amiss with it. On impulse, he held it up to his nose and the faintest hint of glue lingered on the book. With the blunt knife he cut the back binding apart and found only the unmarked board. Repeating this with the front he found the outline of a square cut into the board. His heart started to pound as he put the edge of the knife into the cut and levered the top away to reveal a Debit Card sitting in the recess.
James took out the scrap of paper from his wallet and rang the number on it, but the call went straight to voicemail. He waited until her I’m not here please leave your name and number message had finished. ‘Hi Carol, it’s James Cameron-Smythe, I wonder if you are interested in a five star holiday in the Caribbean with me for the next month or so, or longer if you have the time? Call me back if you’re interested.’
He put the phone back on the charger and sat down to wait. Thoughts of what else he could do with the money ran through his mind.
Ten minutes later the phone rang. ‘God, James, yes I will, when do we leave?’
Chapter 17
Friday evening
Douglas had been in the pub for an hour before Tanya appeared through the crowd and placed a bottle of Polish lager on the table. ‘Keep your hand over the label, they don’t sell that stuff here,’ she said and deftly removed the cap with an attachment on her Swiss Army Knife.
Douglas picked up the bottle. ‘Thank you, but before I sample this I have to ask you if you’ve moved into the booze smuggling racket?’
She returned the knife to her pocket and sat on the banquette. Sliding along to sit next to him she smacked him lightly on the thigh. ‘No, a friend of mine brought it over from Warsaw, just for you.’
‘So I was right, it’s been brought over the border…my ancestors did a lot of that in the old days.’
‘Smuggling beer?’
‘No…raiding over the border: smuggling brandy, stealing cattle, kidnapping and general mayhem, that sort of thing.’
‘Ah, the Reivers, I can see why you’re suited to the police force, Douglas, set one to catch one.’
‘Don’t you see me as a middle-class university git, who will never make a real copper?’
‘You’ve drunk too much, Douglas,’ Tanya said and smacked him on the thigh again.
Douglas put the empty bottle in his coat pocket and looked over at her. ‘I
presume our joint operation will start again next week?’
Tanya nodded. ‘Monday, I’d guess.’
‘And we’re sharing that double bed in the house?’
‘Yes, but only if you’re sober, otherwise you’re sleeping in the spare bedroom.’
Douglas nodded towards Julie, standing with the others at the bar, in her skin-tight gold coloured dress and matching shoes. ‘I can get you one of those. It would project the right sort of image for your character, which is, of course, the wrong sort of image.’
‘In my size?’
‘Yes, I checked on that.’
‘Now you’ve moved into her flat wouldn’t Susanne worry about that sort of dress turning up in the post?’
‘I’ve thought of a way round that: I’ll buy her one as well – they’re not very expensive.’
Tanya nodded towards the group by the bar. ‘Talking of Julie, have you put her out of her misery?’
‘I think she’s getting the message; she’s hardly spoken to me all evening.’
‘You’re still keen on letting her down gently.’
‘Could be that, or you sitting next to me has put her off.’
‘I’ve things to do now, Douglas. I’ll be off, so you can put that theory to the test,’ Tanya said and slid along the seat to the edge of the table before standing up. She walked round the table and bent down to kiss him lightly on the cheek before walking away through the crowded bar.
While Douglas waited to see what Julie would do he reached into his pocket for his phone and called Susanne to find out when she would pick him up. He learnt that things had not gone well at work and she would be late and by the noise in the background that wouldn’t be a great problem for him. He was protesting his innocence of the charge when he spotted Julie heading his way. He ended the call as she slid along the banquette to sit beside him. The gold dress barely covered her legs.
‘Want another beer, Douglas?’
Douglas laughed. ‘I’d better not, Susanne’s not picking me up for another hour and we’re going over to her parents place.’
‘The palace, or do they have another place?’
He moved his eyes away from her legs to her face. ‘Oh yes, they have a flat in Edinburgh New Town, a house in France and another one in Cyprus.’
‘Of course they do, stupid of me for asking. Any particular reason you’re going?’
‘I’m sure there is, but I don’t know what it is.’
‘Did you see Slippery Sam? She was at the bar earlier.’
‘She’s stalking you, Julie, she’s heard about this,’ he said touching the dress at the top her leg. Before he could remove his hand she grabbed it with both hands and put it between her legs and crossed them, clamping his hand between her thighs. ‘You owe me a dinner, Douglas. You lost the bet, now you should pay.’
‘Careful, the boss is around here somewhere,’ he said.
Julie looked round and nudged Douglas with her shoulder. ‘Never mind her. If I see Slippery Sam again, shall I ask her over and you can ogle her tits?’
Douglas nudged her back with his shoulder. ‘You sound jealous.’
‘No, I’m not; she’s an evil person working for the dark side.’
‘And you’re an angel of mercy…you could always challenge her to a mud wrestling contest to decide whether the dark or the light side is superior. ’
‘I’d be squashed under the weight of her tits and where would I get the mud?’
‘Tanya seems to know about that sort of thing.’
‘Hah! I can believe she would.’
‘We could sell tickets; they’d go down a bomb at the station.’
‘Why can’t I wrestle you?’
‘How about Belinda Williams?’
‘She will be most offended you even suggested her. She thought you were a nice person.’
‘In comparison to whom?’
‘Tanya…and you trust her too much; you don’t know where she’s been or what she’s done.’
‘And she thinks very highly of you too and they do have a dress like this one in her size.’
‘Why were you checking that, Douglas?’
‘Purely a professional interest.’
‘Ah, your operation.’
‘You know about that?’ but before Julie could answer he felt the pressure of the beer reaching his bladder. With a sense of urgency he tried to stand up and failed until Julie uncrossed her legs and released his hand. ‘Got to add to the waters of the Clyde,’ he said and weaved towards the toilets.
As he the left the toilets he heard a voice. ‘Douglas Ashburner.’
‘Let me guess, Johnny Buxton,’ Douglas said before turning to face the speaker.
‘I can see why they made you a Detective,’ Johnny said. ‘But your operation didn’t have much of a haul. One suspect dead in a traffic accident and he gets the full send off: the great and the good, bankers, government ministers and a bishop to read out the eulogies.’
‘Who said it was an accident?’ Douglas said quietly.
Johnny leaned closer. ‘The press release from the Northumberland lot.’
‘They didn’t have a reason to look closely.’
‘At what?’ Johnny whispered.
‘Go look at the car, there’s a streak of black paint down one side and the funny thing is a cement lorry with a dented bumper came past just after Sutherland’s car left the road.’
‘You were there?’
‘Never saw a thing, Johnny, never said a thing, just like the report. On a different topic, what happened to William Tschederer?’
‘Suddenly left town, he said he’d more profitable projects to pursue.’
‘So he never wrote a thing.’
‘Funny thing that, Douglas, see you around.’
*****
The night was winding down for Douglas. He’d gone to the bar for the last round when he noticed a tall well-dressed man standing next to him. He placed a gloved hand on the bar and removed it again leaving a small plastic bag in front of him.
‘A reward for your discretion, Douglas, it has the details of the two Bulgarians you are seeking. They have disappeared, but scum like that always come to the surface again, although it could be some time. Be patient, we will give you a heads up when they appear again and you can do the legal bit. Perhaps the Bulgarians will give them up to due legal process, but, if not, we will resolve the problem our way.’
‘Why would you do that?’
‘Marcus was one of ours and we can’t let these bloody Russians get away with it this time. They need smacking down before they get too big for their Valenki.’
‘And Sutherland, do you know anything about the streak of paint along the side of his wrecked car?’ Douglas asked.
‘Sutherland was a careless man, in parking as in other things, Douglas,’ the man replied and turned away, disappearing into the crowd.
He picked up the plastic bag and slipped it into his pocket while the barman finished pulling the last pint of beer. Douglas paid him and carried the drinks back to the table on a tray. Nicola was the only one left sitting at the table. ‘Where has everyone gone?’ he asked.
‘Never mind, Dougie, we can always drink the lot if they don’t come back.’
Douglas sat down, put his hand in his pocket for the plastic bag and placed it on the table in front of Nicola. ‘A reward for keeping our mouths shut.’
Nicola looked at the plastic bag before slipping it in to her pocket. ‘Not much of a reward, whatever happened to the bungs of old, made out of fat rolls of twenties?’
‘It’s a Micro SD card; it could hold an electronic copy of the Encyclopaedia Britannica.’
‘I’m not impressed, what does it have on it?’
‘The details of the two hit men, who did for Marcus Triffit, or so I’m led to believe.’
‘Oh yes, and how to we find them?’
‘We’ll get the nod when they surface again and if they’re lucky we get first dibs at them.’
; Nicola looked at him. ‘And if we don’t get there first?’
‘I guess they’ll be found floating in the river.’
‘I don’t suppose that would be the Clyde?’
‘The Iskur.’
‘Where in the name of the wee man is that?’
‘Bulgaria, it flows into the Danube.’
Nicola nudged him with her elbow. ‘Your better half has put in an appearance, best slip off before Julie comes back.’
‘I’ll see you on Monday, boss,’ Douglas said and went to meet her.
*****
Outside the night was warm and Douglas put his arm around Susanne’s waist, pulling her closer. ‘I saw Slippery Sam in the pub; didn’t she go to school with you?’
She steered him away from a couple too absorbed in each other to notice a drunk, supported by his girlfriend, weaving their way towards them. ‘Slippery Sam?’
‘Samantha Price of…’
‘Are you going to sober up before we get to my parents house?’ Susanne interjected.
‘That’s the: I’m not going to answer the question response?’
‘And that’s the: I’m pissed response?’ Susanne said as she steered him round the corner to where her car was parked.
He lurched to a stop beside the car. ‘You’re on the double yellows, you must love living dangerously.’
‘Let’s make a quick getaway, Clyde, before we’re spotted.’
‘Clyde?’
‘Never heard of Bonnie and Clyde? I love that film,’ she said.
The End
Thank you for reading this book. If you have enjoyed it you will be able to read more of the adventures of Douglas Ashburner as he continues his investigations in:
Book 2: A Crack In The Dark
And
Book 3: Exciting Lives (or: The Girls With The Salamander Tattoo).
My helpers have taken every care in preparing this book for publication and any mistakes that have slipped through are entirely mine. If you feel sufficiently aggrieved at any of them please let me know by using the contact page at the website: Stonehill and Hunter Publishing
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