Remember Me 2

by Ian C. P. Irvine

  “I’ll pack after breakfast, and then drive over to Jane’s. I’ve already spoken to her, and she’s made up the guest room in the caravan. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”

  “I’m not happy about it, but I think it’s best. Once we get this case solved, I’ll apply for some leave, and I’ll look after you myself.”

  “I’d rather you saved the time until Little Bump is born. Then we can all spend some precious time together bonding.”

  McKenzie nodded, but Fiona could see that his mind had already begun to wander back to the case.

  His face had just begun to turn white.

  Then he stood up, thumped the table with his hand and swore.

  “What’s the matter? What’s have you just thought of?” Fiona asked.

  “I’ve messed up. I think I know who the killer is! And I can’t believe I haven’t realised it before!”

  Chapter 38

  En route to Portobello High School

  Tuesday

  09.10

  McKenzie waited impatiently for Brown to pick up. He was driving en route to the school, calling Brown on handsfree, and probably driving a little too fast.

  He was kicking himself.

  McKenzie was usually on the ball, but for some reason, he’d missed something obvious.

  Brown picked up.

  “Where are you?” he asked, no preliminaries.

  “I just parked my car. I’m outside the school.”

  “I think I know who the killer might be. I think. It’s the old school headmaster.”

  “Interesting. But why?”

  “I was up most of last night trying to read the book. It details all the murders and tells the story of Maggie Sutherland. In great detail. At first I thought it must be Maggie who wrote it, but then, after I’d called and spoken to Amazon – I’ll tell everyone about that in the briefing – I suddenly remembered that Daniel Gray told me that he was a self-published writer! I even saw his laptop sitting beside the window on his desk, where he writes from!”

  “Wow, I see where you’re going with this.”

  “That’s nothing… consider this… the guy has gone off the grid. Imagine that he’s spent the past twenty years hating himself for what happened. He realises that the teachers were guilty. And he decides to take revenge on behalf of Maggie!”

  “When was the book published? Before or after Maggie died?”

  “I don’t know. The guy from Amazon promised me that he’d give me all the details by lunchtime.”

  “If he published it after she died, then maybe he thought it was a way of telling the truth, finally. Letting the world know exactly what happened after all. I mean, Maggie didn’t want the truth told when she was alive. Did she?” A moment’s pause, then he continued. “According to Wishart’s report, there’re no surviving relatives or partners, so who would care today about her suffering and what she went through? Perhaps only Daniel Gray?”

  “Good point.” Brown mused. “How about this… do you think that there’s any possibility that Gray killed Sutherland? I mean, we know she fell in front of a train, but could Gray have pushed her? I think someone else already suggested the possibility of a push instead of a jump.”

  “Possibly.”

  Another moment passed. Both of them were thinking fast.

  “Ahh!” Brown suddenly exclaimed. “We’re missing something else, really obvious!”

  “What?”

  “He was the Headmaster. Apart from the caretaker, he probably knew more than anyone else about the school… ”

  “The tunnels!” It suddenly dawned upon McKenzie. “He’d have known about the tunnels!”

  -------------------------

  Tuesday

  Outside Portobello High School

  09.30

  “Hop in,” McKenzie directed, winding the window down as he pulled up beside Brown on the street outside the old school.

  After the Eureka moment on the phone twenty minutes ago, McKenzie had suggested they both take a moment to mull over what they discussed. What was wrong with their ideas?

  “I’ve thought of a problem with the hypothesis,” McKenzie broke the news as Brown climbed in and sat in the passenger seat.

  “His age. He’s not powerful enough to overcome three younger men and carry a cross into the school. And the fact that he’s on Coll.”

  “Exactly.”

  “I thought the same. As soon as you hung up. But, just because he’s too old and probably too infirm and weak, it doesn’t mean he didn’t mastermind or oversee their killings. What’s it cost now to put a contract out on someone? What’s the going rate amongst the low-life in Edinburgh, for each person killed?”

  “About one or two thousand pounds?”

  It was a startling figure, that a human life could be worth so little, but unfortunately both knew that it was true.

  “Okay, so we both still think that there’s a possibility that Gray could be the killer, or at least be the person directing and resourcing the people behind the killings?” McKenzie asked his partner.

  Brown nodded.

  “Not only that Guv, but it all fits. Not only is there a possible motive, but he has the knowledge to possibly help make it happen. By writing the book, distributing it to everyone, and then killing the perpetrators of the rape, he absolves himself, and then manages to find peace, all these years later.” Brown concluded.

  “Okay. I think there’s enough in the idea to bring him in. If he’s behind this, we need to get him to tell us who else is going to die, who’s doing the killings, and either get him to call off any more killings, or we warn the others, take them into protective custody and go after those who are carrying out the killings.” McKenzie summarised the situation and the threat.

  “Exactly.”

  “Okay, can you please go in and get everyone assembled, and I’m going to call PC Grant in Tiree and see if we can get her to cross over to Coll again, and bring Daniel Gray in for questioning.”

  -------------------------

  “Grant? DCI McKenzie again. How are you?” McKenzie asked, having taken ten minutes to get her to answer her phone. Presumably the reception was limited or troublesome on the island of Tiree.

  “Exhausted. I got back late from Coll last night. The ferry was delayed in Coll with engine failure. I had to hang around for most of the day. But the weather was good, so at least I spent some time on my favourite beach. It was all good.”

  “How do you fancy going back?”

  McKenzie could hear her exhale.

  “When?”

  “Now. I want you to bring Daniel Gray in for questioning. It turns out, he could be the person responsible for coordinating the murders of Weir, Blake, McRae and possibly also even Maggie Sutherland. And it’s urgent. We’re expecting more fatalities any time soon, so we have to get to him and determine his involvement and, if he is responsible, somehow get him to stop all of this before the next deaths occur.”

  “Agreed, if he’s guilty. But there’s a problem, Guv. The next ferry isn’t until tomorrow. At 17.40 p.m., I think. I won’t get there until the evening, Guv.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “This isn’t the mainland, Guv. Things operate here at a different pace. And the ferry will only run if the engine’s still working and the conditions are okay.”

  McKenzie closed his eyes.

  “Can you hire a boat? Or are there any other ways you can get there?”

  “Not at the moment. It’s the ferry or not at all.”

  A feeling of dread began to overcome McKenzie. He was anticipating the PC’s next question. He only had to wait a couple of seconds.

  “Could you fly up again?” Grant asked.

  An image of a sick bag and the colour green filled McKenzie’s mind.

  “I don’t know. Possibly. I’ll have to find out. Stay tuned. I’ll call you back later.”

  McKenzie hung up.

  Things were just about to go from very bad to much worse.

&n
bsp; -------------------------

  Tuesday

  Operation Blue Building

  Incident Room

  10.10

  McKenzie clapped his hands at the front of the room and everyone settled down.

  He started off the session by conveying apologies from DCS Wilkinson who had called him earlier that morning to say that the promised criminal psychologist wouldn’t be joining them for another couple of days. No explanation. Just lump it.

  “With all due respect, Guv. This is all a bit of a joke… ”

  “Normally I would not really be too pleased to hear those sort of comments in my operation’s meetings. I run quite a relaxed, but tight ship, and respect for behaviour and process is important. However, in this case, as usual, Lynch, you are entirely correct. This is, as you might say, complete bollocks. Three deaths from a depraved-killer don’t yet seem to be enough to warrant more attention or resources.”

  He paused.

  “Anyway, does anyone have anything urgent since last night? I have a few things to say, and I want us all to get back to work as soon as possible. Time is of the essence, and we’ve got to nail the killer before he strikes again.”

  McLeish went first.

  “I’ve booked your car in for a security surveillance check at Fettes for 2pm this afternoon. We’ll find out if your car’s bugged.”

  “Do I get a replacement car?” he asked.

  “Sorry, Guv. I was told to tell you to get the taxi.”

  “Are you kidding me?”

  “Sorry, Guv. I’m not. They’ll give your car back to you tomorrow morning.”

  McKenzie nodded. Maybe he wouldn’t be needing a replacement car, if he was on Coll.

  “Okay, thanks. Anyone else?” McKenzie invited.

  There were no takers. Nobody had really had a chance to achieve anything since last night.

  McKenzie then spent the next twenty minutes updating them on the book, his conversation with Amazon, and the realisation that Daniel Grant could be behind all of this, followed by an explanation of their reasoning. He’d then told them about his conversation with Grant, and warned them that he might be making another trip to Coll by helicopter, if DCS Wilkinson would agree.

  “What about the remainder of the book… the bit you haven’t read yet? Maybe it could tell us who the other victim or victims are going to be?” McLeish suggested.

  “True. Right after I’ve spoken to DCS Wilkinson, I’m going to find somewhere quiet and read the rest of the book. If I find out anything, I’ll get Brown to update you. She’ll be in charge whilst I am away.”

  “Okay, we’ll finish up now. Just let me encourage you all to act on any initiatives you come up with. What we all do in the next few hours could literally be the difference between life and death for those next in the crosshairs of this serial killer. Let’s work hard, but work smart. Okay?”

  Nodding heads. A few smiles. But a lot of tension in the room. Everyone knew what was at stake.

  McKenzie clapped his hands, and everyone went back to work.

  -------------------------

  Tuesday

  Stuart Nisbet’s Private Jet.

  10.30 G.M.T.

  Stuart Nisbet’s private jet bounced a few times as the tyres found traction with the runway and he wrestled with a strong headwind.

  The plane taxied along the short runway before almost coming to a rest, and then turned back towards the hangars and the main building.

  It had been a smooth and uneventful flight, with a very early start.

  The good news was that they had now arrived.

  Safely.

  But now there was a lot to do.

  Stuart had to be back in Edinburgh by the early evening. He didn’t want anyone to know that he’d left the city or that he was really here.

  However, over the next few hours Stuart had a lot to achieve. He’d planned his time down to the last minute.

  He was here on important business.

  In his line of work, every second counted.

  After making arrangements with the copilot to refuel and have the plane ready at a moment’s notice, he hurried to the taxi rank outside the main building and read out the address from the piece of paper in his hand.

  Settling back in the comfort of the car, he closed his eyes and thought about the next few hours ahead.

  For those he was about to meet, it could mean the difference between life or death.

  Perhaps it was wrong, but knowing that their lives were in his hands, made Stuart Nesbitt feel strangely good.

  -------------------------

  McKenzie’s Car

  En route to McKenzie’s home

  11.00

  “Another helicopter ride?” DCS Wilkinson screeched back down the phone. “Do you know how much these things cost our department? And you just got back! Could you not have planned this better?”

  “Ma’am, I’m working with the resources I have. Which you have given me. Given I have the smallest team in history, I have to do what is necessary, when it is necessary. This case is unfolding hour-to-hour. It could be that the Ex-Headmaster living on Coll is the mastermind behind our killings. I have to bring him in and question him as soon as possible. The local PC can’t get to him until tomorrow. I need to speak with him in the next few hours.”

  There was a silence at the other end.

  “I’ll do my best, McKenzie.”

  “Thank you, Ma’am. Also, can I ask, how did your conversation go with the Queen? You said you were going to call her and tell her to go home?”

  Another silence.

  “You’re a cheeky bastard, McKenzie. But don’t push it. Let me know how your trip goes. I’ll get the pilot to call you directly and arrange when he can take you, if at all.”

  “Thanks Ma’am.”

  The conversation ended.

  Chapter 39

  The Grange

  McKenzie’s Home

  Tuesday

  12.45

  McKenzie was just about to settle down at his desk at home to try and make some progress on reading the book, when his mobile phone rang.

  It was the pilot from the police helicopter.

  “Can you make it to the airport for 3pm?” was the main question.

  McKenzie hurriedly agreed and laughed politely when the pilot joked about remembering to bring a proper sick bag this time.

  Ha ha, very funny.

  The pilot then reassured him that the flight should actually be much smoother than before, so hopefully a sick bag wouldn’t be necessary.

  But bring it along just in case.

  The timing couldn’t have been better.

  It meant that McKenzie would have time to pack, take his car to Fettes and drop it off for its scan, then catch a cab out to the airport.

  Hopefully he’d get his car back this evening, or early tomorrow, at least as soon as he could upon returning from Coll.

  Dropping the book on the table, he stood up and was about to go and pack an overnight bag just in case, when his phone rang again.

  It was the Director of Amazon KDP calling from its London headquarters.

  “DCI McKenzie, I’ve been trying to gather as much information as I can for you. I understand the importance of your request, and we wish to help as much as we possibly can. At this moment in time I cannot yet give you the name of the author, however I hope to be able to provide you with this information by about 6pm this evening, or by close of play here. I’m sorry, I’m dependent upon someone delving into the records and the information we’ve archived from the old Createspace servers… and the technicians who will do this aren’t yet available. Please bear with me on this. Rest assured, I will get that information for you, however, before I do, I’ll need to ask you to provide me with a formal written request from yourself or your superior officer, for our records. You’ll understand I can’t just give you personal details without some proof of who you are. So far, we have only talked by phone. I’ll need to verify this is an
authentic police request. Can you arrange that please? I’m not asking for a formal warrant, I just wish to have proof of whom you claim to be.”

  The request was reasonable. McKenzie couldn’t be too angry or annoyed. In response, he promised to send an email from his police account containing a letter on headed paper.

  Then McKenzie explained that he would be heading north and there may not be reception where he was going. He requested that the Director keep trying him until they managed to talk, or to pass all the information across by email, as soon as it became available.

  It was an amicable call. The delay wasn’t helpful, but as long as the information was forthcoming later that day, it would still be significant progress.

  In the meantime, after sending the email, McKenzie knew that he had to finish ‘Remember Me?’

  Settling himself back down again, and reaching out for his copy of the book, he looked at his watch to see how much time he had, and was shocked to see that it was almost half-past one.

  He only had thirty minutes to pack a bag, get to Fettes Row, and then hurry out from there to the airport.

  Now under time-pressure, he hurried up the stairs to his bedroom and packed a bag.

  Ten minutes later, he was in his car, heading down to police headquarters.

  En route he called his wife.

  “Hi, are you at your sister’s yet?” he asked.

  “I’m with her just now. But there’s a slight change of plan. We’re in Callander. We’re going to be staying in her caravan here for a few days before heading back to Stirling.”

  “Aha… that’s good. Try to get some relaxation. Chill out. Take it easy. Please.”

  “I will. By the way, the caravan’s not in the same position as before. Karen moved it to a better position that became available. It’s now right at the back of the park on the left, overlooking the river. It’s very secluded, not really overlooked and very pretty. We’re very lucky.”