Remember Me 1

by Ian C. P. Irvine

  “I can't rule it out. In fact, I've got to rule it in, for now. Somehow two people were smuggled into the building without being seen by anyone else. Either the killer knows a secret way into the building that no one else does, or they have the keys and simply walked into the building when no one when else was looking. Which means it could well be someone in your team.”

  “Or someone else, who stole a copy of the keys and somehow managed to get past our cameras and my men when we weren’t looking!”

  “True. But how would they get access to your keys?”

  “I don't know. They're under lock and key, but all I'm saying is, that it doesn't have to mean that one of my team is a murderer.”

  “Gary, it's my job to suspect everyone. Don't take it personally. But can you give me that list in the next hour? And can you please instruct all your staff to keep quiet about anything they’ve seen or heard here yesterday or today? This is a murder case. We don’t want any details getting out. And the public don’t yet know that there have been two deaths. We need to keep it that way for now.”

  Gary nodded, stood up and moved towards the door.

  For a moment, he hovered in the doorway, and McKenzie thought he was going to say something. His mouth opened, and words seemed to form on his lips, but then he seemed to think better of it, nodded to himself and left the room in silence.

  Just then, McKenzie's phone rang. It was DCS Helen Wilkinson, his boss.

  “McKenzie, I've got some bad news for you... and I'm afraid, you're not going to like it.”

  -------------------------

  Portobello High School

  Edinburgh

  12.18

  McKenzie was furious. Facing the portacabin which was now once again full up with his team, he took several deep breaths and tried to control his emotions.

  Lifting his right hand up to get everyone's attention, the room quickly fell silent. For a second, McKenzie felt like a school teacher controlling a classroom of pupils, and for the first time ever, realised that he was using the same control mechanisms his teachers used at school.

  This one was simple but effective: whenever he lifted his hand, everyone shut up.

  “As you know, the Queen is visiting Scotland next week and staying at Holyrood Palace. I've just been informed by DCS Wilkinson that Police Scotland has been passed some intelligence detailing a credible terrorist threat to the Queen. Until further notice, all available hands are now to be made available to join Operation Crown, whose sole mission is to find those behind the threat and protect the Queen. This means that the following people are to report to Fettes Row as soon as possible.”

  McKenzie read out a list of names, and most of the room stood up, looked around at each other with quizzical looks on their faces, and then exited the portacabin.

  By the time they had gone, there was only a handful left: DS Wishart, DS McLeish, DI Brown, Sergeant Anderson and PC Lynch.

  McKenzie's face was blank, but the apparent lack of visible emotion did little to hide the frustration beneath.

  “I'm sorry guys, but apparently the threat is very serious. There's nothing I could do.”

  “We understand Guv. The Queen's safety is obviously paramount here, but we need everyone we can get on this, NOW. We've probably got a deranged serial killer running about bumping off his old teachers...” PC Lynch enunciated what everyone was thinking.

  McKenzie smiled at him.

  “Like I said... there's nothing I could do. I almost lost you two as well, but I managed to persuade DCS Wilkinson that your local knowledge would be invaluable, and she made a few calls for me,” McKenzie said, speaking while nodding at both Sergeant Anderson and PC Lynch.

  “We'll just have to hope that Operation Crown is successful and wraps ups sooner rather than later. In the meantime, it's just us and Mather on the night shift, so let's make sure that everything we do counts. Okay?”

  Everyone nodded.

  “Good, so let’s put our heads together and do a bit of brainstorming then.”

  McKenzie grabbed a coloured pen and turned to the whiteboard.

  “During the last session we made plans for the rest of the day. Some of them may to be scrapped now we've lost most of the team, but McLeish and Wishart, you two can carry on getting the lists of employees and staff and finding out about the Reunion tonight. Beyond that, let's start from scratch and map out what we know, what we need to know, and how we're going to get it, in order of priority. Then we can divvy up actions from there, okay?”

  “Good. So the way I see it, the four big questions we have are, 'How did the murderer get the victims into the school without being spotted', 'How long were they there for?', ‘Why were they killed?’ and finally 'Is there any connection between the victims themselves?'”

  McKenzie nodded at the team and then made some notes on the whiteboard.

  “Comments?” he asked, as he finished scribbling away.

  “Thinking about the second question, we need forensics to tell us how long Blake was in the school for, before we discovered him.”

  McKenzie nodded, and then annotated something on the board.

  “Thinking about how they got into the building, is there any possibility that we've missed some gate or door, somewhere? Are we absolutely certain we haven't missed anything?” Brown questioned. “There's no hole in the boarding, a loose panel or something?”

  “I've already had the perimeter walked, and all the doors to the building checked, several times.” McKenzie responded. “But there has to be something we've missed. Apparently, the perimeter fencing has been up for months. Somehow someone got into the building and then out again, without being spotted, or they're still here. And we're pretty sure they aren’t still here. The false panel idea needs checking again, I think. Can I ask you to take that one this afternoon? Go around checking everything to your heart's content. Convince yourself we've not missed anything. And then get hold of Gary Bruce and get him to recheck all the plans for the building to make sure there's no other way in. He's already said there isn't, but get him to do it again.”

  Brown nodded, and McKenzie put her name against the action on the board.

  “Right, now to the question of motive. Why were they killed? Any ideas?” McKenzie asked, leaving the question hanging in the air.

  “It's interesting 'how' they were killed.” Lynch commented. “Someone went to a lot of trouble to kill them in or near the departments they worked in. Which means that they must have known that the victims worked there. As mentioned before, the first thought was to consider a grudge from an ex-pupil - someone who was taught by them and took both their classes - but I like the idea that maybe it wasn't a pupil at all. Maybe it was another teacher? Someone who worked with them at some point.”

  McKenzie smiled.

  “McLeish is getting a list of all the staff, past and present. Can you help him, and try to establish what previous teachers thought about the deceased? Is there anything that connects them? Is there is anything obvious we need to know? Does anyone know any reason why they may have been targeted? Grudges or animosities between them, pupils and other staff? I'm also going to leave it to both of you to check the previous list of staff against any reported missing persons. Make as many calls as you can to names on the list and check that they're all accounted for in some way. Just do the best you can.”

  They both nodded, and McKenzie noted the actions on the board.

  “So far so good. Now, because we're so short staffed I'm going to help out as much as I can and start by visiting the relatives and homes of David Weir and Ronald Blake. Anderson, can you come with me?”

  McKenzie checked his watch and then added himself and Anderson to the action list.

  “It's almost one o’clock. Can I suggest we meet back here about five?”

  Everyone nodded.

  Nobody smiled.

  Chapter 9

  David Weir's flat

  Leith

  Saturday

  13.
05

  It had been several years since McKenzie had last made a house call in the course of investigations. Since being elevated to the grand heights of DCI, he had found himself increasingly office-bound, spending the bulk of his time managing and coordinating the capabilities and efforts of others in the solving of crimes.

  Within Police Scotland, Campbell McKenzie was recognised as one of the rising stars. His last few reviews had cited his ability to motivate his teams, who worked together effectively and efficiently, and he had an impressive track record in solving crimes and building cases which more often than not, had led to many successful arrests and convictions.

  Were it not for the events which occurred last year during his second last case, he would have had an amazing track record behind him. Thankfully, the recent Review Board had all but exonerated him from any serious wrong doings, and approved a full return to duty, albeit only after several of the officers on the review board had nevertheless expressed concern about his judgement in allowing himself to get so deeply involved with and conducting a short-lived affair with a fellow member of staff, his protégé DI Danielle Wessex. Thankfully, it was recognised that McKenzie may actually have been the victim of a sophisticated attempt to manipulate and discredit him: DI Wessex was the lover of one of Scotland’s most notorious criminals, the crime lord Tommy McNunn, who had later murdered DI Wessex and attempted to compromise and frame McKenzie for her death. It was also recognised that it was McKenzie himself who had ultimately brought the real murderer of DI Wessex to justice. Until then, McNunn had been a seemingly untouchable crime lord who for many years had been the subject of many investigations but who had always managed to wangle himself free from prosecution. Following the murder of DI Wessex, McKenzie’s fast actions had led to the arrest of McNunn with sufficient evidence to ensure that Tommy McNunn had subsequently been found guilty of the murder of DI Wessex.

  Following the case, McKenzie had been suspended temporarily, but had then been allowed to return to duty temporarily pending the final outcome of a review board who were commissioned to investigate the sequence of events and determine if McKenzie had been guilty of any criminality or was in breach of police regulations and procedures.

  Upon returning to duty, McKenzie’s had found himself the target of a hired assassin, who had been contracted to kill not only himself, but also Tommy McNunn. Threats to his life had resulted in McKenzie then going into hiding. In the weeks that followed Tommy McNunn had been found dead in his cell, and the assassin had tracked down McKenzie and confronted him.

  The official record of what had followed, recorded the discovery of a body whose identity had been attributed to the assassin. McKenzie had walked away, alive.

  In reality, only two people knew what had happened that day: his wife, and the assassin who was very much still alive.

  Immediately after this, McKenzie had taken some time off to assimilate everything that had occurred, and seek some counselling: marriage guidance counselling and also personal counselling to help him deal with the latent psychological effects of the past year.

  McKenzie had only just returned to active duty again the week before, and although he was feeling fresh and determined to carry on where he had left off, he now wondered if the lack of staff and resources on this case would now give him an excuse to roll up his shirt sleeves and get out of his office and back out onto the streets. Perhaps it would give him the opportunity to reconnect with some of his early career, and help enliven his skills and freshen up his understanding of current practices. The bottom line was that he was determined to make the most of a bad thing.

  It would also give him an opportunity to prove himself to anyone on the review board who may retain any niggling doubts about his ability or right to return to duty.

  ---------------------

  As the car driven by Anderson pulled up outside the tenement where David Weir had a flat on the third floor, McKenzie closed his eyes for a few moments and took a couple of deep breaths.

  Before leaving the portacabin, McKenzie had made a few phone calls, arranging events for the rest of the afternoon, and ensuring in advance that his time would not be wasted. In any homicide, the first twenty-four hours were crucial. McKenzie knew that the clock was ticking. He also knew that news of this double murder was likely to rock the whole country. It was exactly the sort of news that the press and social media would go to town on: an old school about to be demolished, two teachers found murdered in their old class-rooms, a mysterious and clever serial killer on the loose. It had lots of catchy elements to it that would hook the world’s attention: crucifixion in an RE classroom, a blindfolded walk off the top of a tall building, and a building that was packed with explosives and set to blow up only minutes after the second murder, whilst being watched by literally hundreds of onlookers. Soon the worlds press was going to be focussed on his team. Nothing much had been accomplished in the past few hours, and now with only a tiny team left, they needed to make progress soon or the trail would go cold very quickly.

  The worst thing was, McKenzie had a nagging feeling that the two murders were not going to be the last. Whoever was behind this had planned the timing perfectly. Planning was the key to it all. How had the killer known what the demolition plans were? How had the killer felt so secure and confident in his movements? The building was due for demolition, primed to explode at any moment. If the killer had made any mistakes, suffered any delays, they - and there probably had to be more than one killer -– would have been blown sky high along with their victims!

  Before they got out of the car, McKenzie motioned to the Sergeant to give him a few moments, and then busied himself in scribbling some notes into his notebook. Most of the DIs, and DSs in Police Scotland had long since succumbed to the temptations of modern technology and made their notes electronically directly into a tablet. McKenzie was often labelled a Luddite for his insistence on using pen and paper, but the others were wrong. McKenzie could easily see the benefits of tablets and using the app the police provided: automatically saving notes to a common fileshare, or the ease by which they were able to share notes with others. But the benefits didn’t outweigh the one singular negative: McKenzie hated typing, and preferred to use his God-given hands to scribble away as fast as he could go – he could write down three times as many words on a piece of paper than he could ever manage on a screen before he started swearing at his inability to spell, and the determination of the app to autocorrect his words from something meaningful to gibberish that was completely out of context.

  “Okay, done… ” McKenzie nodded, closing his notebook and popping the pencil inside his pocket. Anderson looked at him inquisitively, his eyebrows sliding upwards at the sides, as if to say, ‘anything interesting?’

  “Nope. Just personal thoughts. Good thoughts.”

  Anderson smiled. “We’re going to need as many of those as possible on this case, Guv.” He opened the door, climbed out and stretched. “Any thoughts or words of wisdom before we go inside?” Anderson asked.

  “You’re one of the most experienced Sergeant’s I know. I don’t think there’s much I can tell you. After the initial introductions though, I’d appreciate it if you’d lead the conversation. I want to look around the flat as much as possible.” McKenzie looked up at the tenement above them, appraising it and its local surroundings. “I’d be interested to hear your thoughts, Murray?”

  Anderson nodded, almost expecting the question.

  “Obviously we need to ascertain if there’s any reason Mrs Weir can think of why someone would want to harm Mr Weir. But I’m keen to establish if there’s any known association with the other victim outside of school. Is there any connection between them that we should know about or which could help us understand what happened to them yesterday in the school? And are there any signs that Mr Weir had gone to meet someone before he was presumably taken against his will?”

  McKenzie stepped up to the door and scanned the list of names that were presented on the
intercom alongside the numbers of the flats. He found the one he wanted – ‘WEIR’ – and pressed it.

  “We haven’t got a search warrant, and given the commotion that’s going on at Fettes Row with the Queen’s visit and Operation Crown, it’s unlikely we’ll get one before Monday or Tuesday. I just hope they’re as cooperative as possible. Ideally it would be good to have a look around the flat. See any letters, find a diary. Listen to an answer-phone if there is one,” McKenzie said, looking across at Anderson as he waited for someone to respond to the buzzer. “If there’s any sign of a struggle, the flat will also become a crime scene.”

  “Hello?” A soft voice spoke, and McKenzie leaned forward to speak into the intercom.

  “DCI McKenzie here. I believe you’re expecting us?”

  There was a buzzing sound and a loud click as a latch was automatically released on the inside of the door.

  “Come on up. Third floor. On your left.”

  McKenzie pushed the door open and stood aside to let Anderson go first. As they stepped inside the staircase, he felt the hairs on his neck bristle, and he paused in the doorway. Instinctively he looked behind him and up and down the street. There were a few kids on bicycles further down the road, hanging around outside the local shop, but other than that, no one else to be seen. He quickly scanned the cars and vans on the road, then looked up at the other tenements on the other side of the street, but he didn’t spot anything or anyone untoward.

  “You coming?” Anderson asked, waiting at the bottom of the stairwell for him.

  “Yep, sorry, just had that feeling I was being watched.”

  Anderson laughed. “It’s obvious you haven’t been out your office for a while. Quite a few of the residents will no doubt be on our books, and thanks to whatever they’re taking today, they’ll be as paranoid as their neighbours and worried I’m coming after them. They’ll be watching me, not you.”