Remember Me 1

by Ian C. P. Irvine

  “So, what else do you have, Mather?”

  “Quite a lot, actually.” He paused, turning to a flip chart on which he'd made a number of notes already. “First of all, let's focus on the victims. Early this morning we contacted next of kin from both the deceased, and about twenty minutes ago we had the second of two positive IDs in the morgue. Both of the deceased have now been formally identified. As preliminary reported in yesterday’s meeting, they are David Weir, 55 years of age, and Ronald Blake, 57 years of age. Both were teachers at Portobello High School for many years. Mr Weir was a Geography teacher, and Mr Blake, an RE teacher. Mr Blake had left the school and had transferred to Leith Academy, a promotion, but Mr Weir had moved to the new school site on Milton Road and was still a teacher at the new Portobello High school. What's important to note is that Mr Weir was killed after having been taken onto the top of the school via a ladder in the old Geography supply cupboard, and Mr Blake was killed in the same room he'd taught in for many years as a RE teacher, ... sorry, for those of you who have forgotten everything they learned already, that's Religious Education, or was. Nowadays I believe it's called something more PC.”

  “RS?” someone volunteered.

  “Yes, I think that's it. Anyway, back to the victims. Mr Blake was married. His wife had reported him missing after he hadn't returned home on Thursday night. As for Mr Weir, he lived by himself. He separated from his wife several years ago. He has two grown-up sons, both now working down south somewhere.”

  “Did someone go to their houses?” McKenzie asked, whilst crossing his arms across his chest and leaning backwards against the wall.

  “Yes. PCs Daniels and Winston. They visited Mrs Blake. But they visited Mrs Weir in the old family home, not where he's been living recently.”

  McKenzie scoured the room for PC Daniels and Winston, and upon finding them, asked, “Anything remarkable to report? How was Mrs Blake?”

  “Visibly distraught, Guv. She needed to sit down, and it was a while before we left. We ended up calling in a neighbour to sit with her after we’d gone. Mrs Weir was also upset, but when we visited her, there was another man there in his dressing gown. She's obviously moved on since the marriage. Don't get me wrong, she was upset, but you could tell there was a lot of separation between them now.”

  “Thanks. Sorry, carry on Mather.” McKenzie nodded at the DI.

  “We sent someone round to Mr Weir's tenement flat in Leith where he's been for the past year and have knocked on the doors in the stair trying to find out when he was seen last. We didn't access the flat yet, as we didn't have a key. We made enquiries in the stair though. A woman on the third floor said she'd seen him on Wednesday morning about seven thirty on the way to the school, but not since. Quite a few of the people who lived in the stair didn't come to their doors, so I've put it down on today's duty roster for another team to go back there this afternoon, and again in the evening or the morning, until we've managed to speak to everyone and gone round the local shops and pubs etc. We also need for Mrs Weir or someone else to accompany us to the flat and to let us look around. That must be a matter of priority. It could turn out that it may be the scene of his abduction, and if so, we’ll need to get forensics there asap.”

  Mather continued, “Moving on, let’s talk about the campus here. The school grounds and the buildings are completely locked down. No one's come or gone, and no one can get in without us knowing. We've also got extra CCTV installed in several of the areas I thought were a little blind.”

  Mather pulled the top of his marker pen off and underlined the word 'Motive' which he’d already written near the top of a list on the whiteboard.

  “So, why did someone want to kill two teachers in the classrooms they'd taught in?”

  He let the question hang in the air for a while, but continued before anyone volunteered an answer.

  “That's one of the questions we need to answer. And quickly. The obvious choice would be that it could be an ex-pupil with a grudge. But we can't be too sure. It could be another teacher. Or maybe someone who knew them both outside the school and thought it might be sick, or funny to kill them where they used to work.”

  “But why here? In the old school, and not in the new one?” McKenzie asked.

  “Good question. That hints at it being an old pupil who attended the old school, but like I said, that could also be just what someone wants us to think.” Mather hesitated and pointed to a hand that had just gone up on the left of the room.

  “DS McLeish?”

  A tall, skinny man dropped his hand and spoke, “If someone has killed two teachers, and we have a bona fide serial killer on our hands, we have to assume that there could be more. This might not be the end of it. Perhaps we should be checking on all the teachers in the school to see if any others have gone missing?”

  Mather nodded.

  “Good thinking, McLeish, which is why we contacted the school secretary about an hour ago, and said someone was coming round to talk to her about something which was pretty sensitive and needed her immediate help and attention. How do you fancy volunteering?”

  McLeish nodded and smiled. “I'll take that one. I'll also get a full list of the teachers from the past twenty years and start enquiries about any other murders or unexplained deaths amongst their number, just in case these are not the first.”

  McKenzie nodded. “Can you also get a synopsis of their careers, and the contact details and names of the headmasters and other non-teaching staff of the school during that time frame? It would be good to contact them to establish if there’s any obvious reason why the victims have been targeted. Mather, is there anything else, before I let you go home to bed?”

  “Just one more thing. The pathologist doing the post-mortems is Brian Wallace. He's aiming to start them tonight. He's already made an initial viewing of the bodies, and commented upon one observation common to both victims, namely, that both of them seem to have multiple burn marks on their bodies. He's not sure yet, but he thinks they could be the result of a powerful cattle prod.”

  “Which might explain how they were coerced to the site of their murders. There's nothing like a million volts being stuck in your side to encourage you to do whatever someone else wants,” PC Lynch volunteered from the front row.

  “Possibly, PC Lynch. But even if they were forced into the building, we still have to figure out how they got the victims into the school, undetected. And two of them in rapid succession?” Mather replied.

  “We need to figure out how long Mr Blake was attached to that cross for, if that's possible. Maybe one victim was brought in before the other? If they were both brought in at the same time, then surely we're looking at more than one murderer, here?” Brown suggested. “What I’d like to know is how and when the murderer brought the cross into the building? If it was in advance, how long before? Was it before they grabbed Mr Blake and brought him to the school? How much preparation has gone into this and how on earth did they manage to do it without being spotted by anyone in the demolition team?”

  “And how heavy was it? If it was one murderer, how did he lift and fix it onto the wall alone? We also need to know how long the two men were missing for, when they were last seen alive, and where they may have disappeared from.” McKenzie replied. “To help with that we need to find the mobile numbers for the deceased. Then we need to get their phone records and cell site data so we can track down their last movements. Whoever gets their numbers first needs to record it in the Investigation Log, get the appropriate warrants raised, and request the information from the phone operator as soon as possible. Don’t bother waiting for my permission. Just do it, and let us all know when it’s been done. Understood?”

  A round of nods.

  “Okay, now I have an interesting one for us all,” McKenzie said, standing up and walking to the centre of the room. “It seems that tonight there’s going to be a big school reunion of Portobello's illustrious alumni.”

  “I know, I'm going!” Anderson ann
ounced.

  “Me too,” another voice quickly followed, this time coming from DS Shona Wishart, an attractive woman from Orkney who McKenzie had worked with several times before. When she spoke, it was more like she was singing, her voice rising and falling in cadence and her accent strangely hypnotic and mesmerising. “I did my O’Levels and Higher Exams at Porty High. I wouldn't miss the Reunion for the world. I can't wait.”

  “Anyone else? I didn't know anything about it until my wife told me this morning.” McKenzie admitted. “She's going too... The big question, for me, is, should we cancel it? I'm just not sure it's a good idea to let it carry on as normal.”

  “Do you think we could actually cancel it? It's a private affair, being organised by a group of alumni, nothing to do with the school.” Wishart continued, with everyone listening attentively.

  “I think we have to consider it. Shouldn't we be worried that something else might happen? If there's a serial killer killing teachers, isn't a school Reunion like a red flag to a bull?” McKenzie asked, opening his hands outwards and inviting opinions.

  “Possibly. But that depends if there are any old teachers going. You could also look at it another way,” Mather argued. “What better opportunity is there going to be, to talk to old ex-pupils and find out reasons why someone might want to kill the two teachers?”

  “I'll think about it. Wishart, can you find out who's responsible for the event, and sound out their thoughts on cancellation or postponement? If they're not keen on doing that, can I put you in charge of making some plans around beefing up security for the event? Can we also get some more of our team in there somehow? As helpers, or ushers, or waiters? Whatever? If we let the event carry on, we need to have as many eyes and ears in the building as possible. I'll be going too, so that's at least three of us who can mingle and ask a few questions, but more would be good.”

  A hand went up at the back of the room.

  “DC Barnes?” McKenzie nodded and waved to a detective to stand up.

  “I was just wondering, what if there’s no murderer at large after all? Since it’s unlikely that anyone else could’ve got into the building, is there any chance that David Weir brought Ronald Blake into the building, kept him here for a few days, crucified him, and then took himself to the top of the building and jumped off?”

  Both Mather and McKenzie raised their eyebrows and looked at each other. A murmur went around the room.

  “Wow... that's a good one. It would certainly answer a few questions if you were right.” McKenzie mused.

  Mather turned to the whiteboard, popped off the lid to his pen, and made a note of the question.

  “Given that could be a possibility, it adds to the argument for just letting the Reunion go ahead as planned,” Wishart suggested.

  “Possibly. Like I said, I'll think about it. But that's a fair point.”

  McKenzie clapped his hands together.

  “Okay, I think it's time to let the night crew go home. We'll take a few minutes break and then reconvene in ten to make a list of today's actions and assignments. Thanks Mather.”

  Everyone stood up and one by one they filed out of the room.

  As Mather left, a head popped round the door and asked for DCI McKenzie.

  It belonged to Gary Bruce.

  He looked nervous, and the moment McKenzie saw the expression on his face, he knew another problem was just about to be added to the list.

  It turned out McKenzie’s instinct, as usual, was right.

  Chapter 8

  Portobello High School

  Edinburgh

  'Operation Blue-Building'

  Incident Room

  Saturday

  11.45

  Gary Bruce watched nervously as the last of the police officers and detectives left the portacabin and the door behind them was closed, leaving him alone with McKenzie.

  “It's a bit delicate...” Gary started, his eyes searching McKenzie's as he spoke.

  “I need to know how long this is going to take. How long will it be before I get the site back?”

  McKenzie cocked his head to the side, appraising the man before him. From the way the question had been posed, there was obviously a lot riding on his answer.

  “The school is now a murder scene. I'm not at liberty to discuss everything with you, because you are a member of the public...”

  “Two deaths. A video posted across the media. I know. I get it. I’ve heard everyone talking and I know what’s happening.” Gary nodded, wiping some sweat from his forehead. “I just need to know how long these things normally take.”

  “What do you mean, Mr Bruce...”

  “Gary. Call me Gary...”

  “Ok, Gary. Thanks. But it's only been a day. Not even that. These things run their own course. At this point, I can't really say...”

  “Guess. Give me some idea...” Gary interrupted him.

  McKenzie hesitated before replying. The man was nervous. He wasn’t the same, cool demolition expert that McKenzie had met yesterday afternoon.

  “Gary, obviously there’s something worrying you. Can you tell me what the real issue is here, so that I can understand how I can help?”

  Gary turned away and walked across the cabin to the window, leaning on the edge of the window frame and staring up at the tall blue building towering above them.

  He coughed.

  “Explosives.” He replied. “The whole bloody building is wired with explosives. And we have a serial killer running around killing people inside, and I don't have the faintest idea how he got in. How do I know that he hasn't found the explosives and done something with them? Or stolen some of them? It took days to rig that building. Almost a week. And if this is going to drag on, I'm going to have to take the explosives out again. Then put them all back later on... I can't let people walk around in the building knowing its set to blow up at a moment's notice...”

  “It's safe now though, isn't it? You deactivated everything? That's what you said earlier...”

  “Of course it is. But... even so, there’re still things that could go wrong. A storm. A lightning strike...”

  “And it would all blow up?” McKenzie asked, surprised. Also alarmed.

  “No, probably not... but maybe.” Bruce shook his head, and turned back to face McKenzie. “But this is crazy. It makes me really nervous. I can't allow it. I need to get my building back...”

  “That's not going to happen anytime soon, Gary. I think we both know that. So, if you're telling me now that there's a real risk to everyone with the explosives being in the building, then we're going to have to come up with a plan to remove them pretty sharpish. But something tells me that this isn't the main thing that's worrying you just now. Do you want to tell me what it really is?”

  Gary turned towards the DCI and studied his face for a minute. McKenzie could see the man was thinking, and said nothing. He'd long ago learnt the power of silence, and how to let the pressure of it build up until it literally squeezed the truth out of another person.

  “Do you know how many people I've got working on this project? Eight. Eight full-time workers. Skilled workers. Expensive. I mean really bloody expensive. And now half of them are doing nothing, but that doesn't mean I'm not paying them. I haven't got any other jobs to send them to just now, and I can't put them on something else until this job is done. In the meantime, I'm also paying for equipment hire. Equipment which I can't use or return because I might not get it back when I need it.”

  “Don't worry, I'll sign whatever paperwork you want to help get you the insurance...”

  “WHAT INSURANCE!? I haven't got proper insurance... I couldn't afford it...”

  McKenzie's face went blank, trying to process what he'd just heard.

  “No Insurance? Are you serious? Are you sure that's something you want to admit to me?”

  “Don't worry... I've got all the important stuff, but with the level of insurance I've got, I'm only covered for five days of delays. I couldn't afford the pre
miums for longer than that. Beyond five days of delays, all the additional costs come out my own pocket. And my pockets are empty. I've got enough money to keep us going till Friday, but if we're still here next Saturday and that school hasn't come down yet, I'll be ruined. Bankrupt! Finished!”

  Gary swore aloud and turned away to look out the window again.

  “Yesterday morning I was on top of the world. This is the biggest job I've ever done... I've been building up to this for years. This is the job that was going to change everything. For me, after all the years of growing slowly and surely, this is the big time. But I've got everything invested in it. Everything. There's nothing left over. So, if I don't get the bulk of the demolition done by Friday, I won't be able to afford to finish the job.”

  “But you are covered until Friday for all the legal requirements that come along with something like this?”

  “Yes. Of course I am. If anyone gets killed here and it's my fault, then the Insurance company will take care of everything...”

  Gary sat down hard on one of the chairs beside the window.

  “Listen, I'll talk with the others and my superiors about how long it will be before we're done here. Maybe I can expedite things.” McKenzie offered.

  Gary looked up. “Please. I've only got until Friday next week. Maybe I'm jumping the gun in worrying so much but I've got every moment of the next few weeks planned out, and every minute of delay is literally costing me a fortune.”

  “Noted. Like I said, I'll make some enquiries and try to get a better indication of when we might be finished here. But can I change the subject for a moment?... Can you give me a list of all your staff who've been working on the site for the past week? We need to establish if any of your staff went to Portobello High School themselves, and if so, when?”

  “Absolutely. But why? What are you thinking? Are we suspects all of a sudden? Do you think one of my men did it?”