Remember Me 2

by Ian C. P. Irvine

  If only he could identify who ‘GasBag’ was!

  Then it occurred to McKenzie that perhaps Daniel Grant may have left a note on his computer about who GasBag may have been, and that’s why the killer had deleted all the files? If so, then why not simply steal the computer too and throw it away somewhere far away, or into the sea?

  Had they disturbed him at the scene?

  Another question hit him like a brick: why had the killer not removed the book from Daniel’s house? Had they disturbed him before he had the chance to do that, or did this also point to the fact that perhaps the killer did not know about the book!?

  Either way, perhaps, just maybe, could one of the many notes that Daniel seemed to have made in his copy possibly reveal the identity of who GasBag was?

  “Shit!” McKenzie swore, just as he was beginning to feel a little bite more relaxed.

  “SO MANY QUESTIONS!” he shouted aloud across the sea where his anguish was quickly swallowed up and drowned.

  McKenzie turned and started to wade his wade back through the shallow water to the beach.

  As he sat down on a rock and brushed away the sand from his feet so he could put on his socks, yet another, and perhaps the most pressing of many remaining questions popped into his mind.

  “What was the connection between the tunnels, Maggie Sutherland and what happened to her, and the murders that were now taking place?”

  As he headed back to the cottage across the moor, McKenzie knew that he had to get back to Edinburgh as soon as possible

  En route he needed to read the rest of the book and find out who GasBag was and how she was due to die.

  And he needed to turn the focus of his team onto finding out who knew about the tunnels. His instinct was now screaming at him ‘find the man in the tunnel, and you find the killer!’

  At the top of the hill in the fork of the path, he turned and looked out to where the body of Daniel Gray lay on his favourite rock.

  He suddenly felt very emotional.

  He’d let the man down, and he’d died because of him.

  “I promise you, Daniel, I swear to you. I’ll find who did this to you. And I’ll make sure that he gets his due deserves. I promise.”

  It was a solemn promise, and McKenzie meant every word.

  He’d find the killer, even if it was the last thing he did.

  -------------------------

  Tuesday

  Portobello Beach

  22.00

  Stuart and Marie sat on the sand, looking out to sea. After a wonderful walk up and around Carlton Hill, looking over the city centre, Marie had suggested that instead of going to a restaurant, they could head down to Portobello, buy a ‘Fish & Chips’ and eat it on the beach.

  Stuart readily agreed. He loved the spontaneity.

  So far the evening had gone amazingly.

  When they met, Stuart had greeted her with a kiss and immediately asked her how the meeting had gone.

  Marie had planned to tell him very slowly, building up to the final figure that she’d been offered, but in the end she couldn’t control herself and she’d just blurted it out.

  “One hundred-and-fifty million pounds!” she’d revealed, jumping for joy, and wrapping her arms around him and covering him with kisses. “And it’s all because of you!”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It was your idea! You set up the meeting! I can’t believe it. It’s almost… no, it is unreal!”

  “You’re not seriously telling me that my company offered you one hundred-and-fifty million pounds? I can’t believe it. If we’ve got that much money to give away, I’m going to ask for a pay rise!”

  They walked to the top of the hill, sat down on the steps of the Grecian style ruins that dominated that part of Edinburgh, and Stuart made Marie tell her absolutely every detail of the meeting.

  He expressed interest when she told him how senior the people were that she’d met, and was a little angry when he heard that she’d been delayed and kept waiting.

  “Maybe that was just part of the game they were playing with you?” he suggested. “Testing you somehow?”

  “I don’t care. Not now. I honestly thought at the time that they were going to say no and give me nothing, but then they gave me one-hundred-and-fifty million pounds!”

  “They haven’t given it to you yet. I would hold back in the celebrating until you get the first thirty million in your bank account.”

  “Will you come with me tomorrow to meet the First Minister of Scotland?”

  Stuart realised he was on tricky ground. He was on first name terms with the First Minister. She’d give the game away immediately.

  “No. Sorry, I can’t. Not tomorrow.”

  Marie seemed disappointed.

  “There’s something else I need to ask you, Stuart. It was one of the conditions of the money being given to me. But can I ask you after we’ve eaten? Later? I think we need to talk. A little. About us?”

  “That sounds very serious.”

  “It doesn’t need to be. But… ”

  “Okay. After our fish and chips. A serious conversation. A very serious conversation, if that’s what you want.”

  Marie punched him in the arm.

  “Stop it. I’m serious!”

  “I know you are!” he laughed.

  So, soon they were sitting on the sand. The sky had darkened, and dinner had been eaten. Marie knew the time had come to talk.

  “Okay, so, Stuart Nisbet, I was meant to be going home tomorrow, but now it looks like I’ll be staying a few days later. But I have to go home on Friday. Saturday at the latest. Now, obviously, with the money, there are a few things I have to do before I go. But, the truth is… I’m confused. I miss my children and I have responsibilities in Poland, now more than ever, but I’m going to miss you Stuart Nisbet. A lot. In some way’s I don’t want to leave.”

  She leaned her head against him and snuggled into him.

  “This is really bizarre. I really like you. I’m going to be torn when I have to go.”

  Stuart wrapped his arm around her, and gently squeezed her.

  “I feel the same. I wish you didn’t have to go. But I can’t ask you to stay. Not now, especially since… you know… ”

  “I know.” She replied. “Stuart, remember I said that there was a condition to me receiving the money? At least, a condition for the remaining one-hundred-and-twenty million pounds after I receive the first tranche?”

  “Yes. What was it?”

  “The Directors of your company are insisting that they are able to assign someone to come and work with me in Poland to oversee and ensure that the money is spent. They claim that they won’t dictate how the money should be spent, but just so that they can check and account for the money as it’s used up. And to ensure that it is all spent each year.”

  “Okay. That sounds interesting.”

  “They also said, that if I knew anyone in the company, I mean, your company, then I could suggest them, if I thought they might be interested in the job.”

  “They did? And do you?”

  “Do I what?”

  “Know anyone? In my company?”

  Marie looked up at his face, her eyes searching his, her expression one of slight confusion.

  “Yes,” she replied. “I know you.”

  There was a momentary pause, then Stuart laughed. “What? You want to suggest me?”

  “Yes. It’s just an idea. And I forgot to say that it’s only for a minimum of three months each year, in total. Whoever takes the role, can do whatever they want the rest of the year, if they wish. But for three months a year, at least, they have to work with me and follow me around, everywhere.”

  Stuart laughed again, then stopped and looked at her very seriously.

  “What? Are you seriously suggesting that I should give up my job and come to Poland with you?”

  “No. Yes… I mean, no… it’s only three months per year.”

  “But we hardly know eac
h other? I haven’t even kissed you properly yet. We haven’t even spent the night together or made love to each other, and you’re asking me to run away with you?”

  “Then make love to me Stuart.”

  Stuart was about to speak, but although his mouth opened to formulate the words, no sounds came out.

  Marie put a finger up to his lips, to silence him, and then kneeled up in front of him. She moved closer, removed her finger from his lips, and then kissed him, pushing him gently backwards until he was lying on the sand beneath her.

  She kissed him again, and moaned slightly when after one of Stuart’s arms went up and around her back, he lifted the other towards her face, but accidentally stroked her breasts en route.

  She leant forward and whispered into his ear.

  “Make love me to Stuart Nisbet. And perhaps, in the morning, you might be able to think about my idea a little bit more seriously.”

  Stuart laughed.

  He was about to say something very clever in reply, but Marie never gave him the chance.

  Her lips met his, and Stuart soon discovered how persuasive Marie McDonald could be.

  Not once. But later that night, several times.

  Chapter 43

  Tuesday

  Island of Coll

  Above Port na Luing Cottage

  22.20

  The phone was ringing in Daniel Gray’s house. For a moment Grant and McKenzie both stared at it. Should they answer? What would they tell someone at the other end if they wanted to speak to Daniel?

  The truth?

  Then McKenzie remembered he’d asked McLeish to get hold of Brown and get her to call him on Daniel’s number.

  McKenzie picked up.

  “Hello, this is Daniel Gray’s phone.”

  “Guv, is that you?”

  “Elaine, thank goodness it’s you. I’ve been trying you all night.”

  “Sorry, I was on the phone a lot. Then I went for a swim, and dinner. And then I got the messages and one from McLeish as well. I’ve got news for you, Guv, but first, did you arrest Daniel Gray?”

  McKenzie explained the situation. Brown was shocked.

  He also updated her on everything else that had happened, and shared the news he’d got from Amazon.

  “Only six books? Six? And four of those who received them are already dead?”

  “Yes. I’m on a mission to finish the rest of the book and find out who GasBag is, and establish if there’s only one, or possibly two more victims still to be targeted. I’m hoping Daniel Gray’s copy of the book might be able to provide some insight. I’ll probably be up all night if I get the chance. The Forensic team arrived a while ago, and we’d literally just left them to get on with their work when you called.”

  “When are you coming back?”

  “Hopefully this evening. I’m just waiting to hear from the helicopter pilot if he can still give me a lift back tonight, or if we have to wait till tomorrow morning.”

  “I’d better give you my news then, just in case you don’t make it back in time for the morning meeting. The long and the short of it though, is that I’ve got good news. Remember we discovered that Mr Banner, the janitor at the old school, and his wife had fostered a couple of children? We knew they’d fostered at least two. A boy for six years and a girl for a couple of months. Then his wife had got ill and died. Poor guy. And the boy had died in Iraq.”

  “Yes, I remember all that.”

  “I looked into the girl. It may only have been a couple of months but you never know if she learned all about the tunnel or not. Anyway, it turns out the girl now lives in Canada. She’s married, two children. I spoke to her. She’s got a job. I spoke to her employer who vouches for her being in Canada for the past six months. I think we can rule her out.”

  “Okay. Agreed. For now. But let’s remember her if we need to consider her again later. Anything else?”

  “You also asked me to see if there were any other kids?”

  “Yes… And?”

  “Well, I’ve been speaking to several of the old members of staff at the school… Sally gave me their numbers… and two of them seemed to remember that there was another boy. Sally couldn’t remember him, but the others could. This afternoon I went to one of their houses… she was a maths teacher at the school for a while, a Miss McIver. She showed me a photograph taken during one of the sports days and there was a group photo of Mr and Mrs Banner, with the boy who they had for six years, and there was another boy. Miss McIver thinks he was there for about a year, before Mrs Banner died. He was a year younger than the other boy.”

  “Did he go to Portobello High School?”

  “No. The Banner’s were all Catholic. They went to Holy Rood High School, just up the road in Duddingston. It’s another brilliant school just like Portobello High.”

  “Can you check it out?”

  “I did already. I went to the see the Council and visited the department that looked after the foster parents and the children assigned to their care. They confirmed that there were three children. Brian, the boy who died later in Iraq, Alice, the girl, and Hamish Hamilton.”

  “Hamish?”

  “Yes, Guv.”

  “So what happened to Hamish when the Banners stopped fostering? Where did he go?”

  “Apparently he was only seventeen. He really loved the Banners, and didn’t want to go into another care home or to any other foster parents, but he had to. He lived with with a few other families, each for a couple of months but he was really difficult to deal with, or so they claimed. He ran away once and went back to Mr Banner, but he was too heart-broken to really look after him, and the council wouldn’t agree to it, as a lone parent who had a full-time job. So Hamish went into a home until he was eighteen, when he dropped out of school with only a few Highers and joined the army like Brian had done. He was sent to Afghanistan, about five years after Brian was killed in Iraq.”

  “And where is he now?”

  “That’s the interesting thing, Guv. He just doesn’t seem to exist anymore. It’s almost like he disappeared off the face of the earth.”

  “What you do you mean?”

  “Well, after the army, he got a visa and left Britain and went to live in Australia… Before I go on, I just want to say that I called his regiment and I got some very good digital photographs sent over, and they are sending me his file tomorrow. I’ve also asked for copies of the passport photographs. I haven’t got them yet, but I’ve been promised them first thing tomorrow.”

  “Good. Please try to print off copies for tomorrow’s meeting and circulate the electronic copies to everyone too. So, what happened when he went to Australia?”

  “That’s where it get really interesting, Guv. After that, we don’t seem to have any records. There’s no recent records of him existing in Australia or here. I’ve been on the phone most of the day to various people, and also to the British Embassy in Australia about twenty minutes ago, but no one knows where he is now. It may be that he’s dead, but there’s no record of that. If he is still alive, then it’s been suggested that one possible explanation is that he changed his name by deed-poll whilst he was in Australia. And possibly, as soon as he did that he came back to the UK. Or possibly, he assumed someone else’s identity in Australia and is living there under a false name. Or he left the country to travel the world and is now living somewhere else abroad?”

  “Or he came back to the UK and is living under a false name here?”

  “Why would he, Guv?”

  “I don’t know. If he did change his name, why would he do that? Maybe something happened in his past that made him ashamed?”

  “Maybe he just had a bad childhood and wanted a fresh start, and nothing to do with his original parents? Apparently they were both alcoholics and used to beat him up pretty badly, Guv. The council took him away from them and wouldn’t let him go back.”

  “Did he have any natural siblings?”

  “No. I asked that. Were you thinking about Mag
gie Sutherland, Guv?”

  “Possibly. Surely if he changed his name by deed-poll the British Government would have a record of it?”

  “I’ve asked for that. The Embassy is chasing it up, but I’m going to call the offices in London tomorrow and find out what the process is, and what records may exist, and how long it will take to find out his new name. If he travelled abroad on a new British passport, we must have his new name somewhere.”

  “Is it possible that he became an Australian citizen and then changed his name, and the Aussie’s have got all the paperwork? Maybe he’s travelling on an Australian passport?”

  “I don’t know, Guv. But it’s all early days. I just started my enquiries into this today, and Australia is twelve hours ahead. I’ll get to the bottom of it, but it may take a while. A few days, or maybe even weeks. Anyway, Guv, I’m not saying that this guy is our man, but I’m just thinking that this is all quite suspicious. The guy has gone missing, perhaps deliberately, although maybe not. But the thing is that he would have known about the tunnels. If you put the two together, I think we have to consider him a suspect.”

  “I agree.” McKenzie replied. “Great work, Elaine. Brilliant. But we don’t have weeks. We may only have days before the next victim is killed.”

  He was silent for a moment.

  “Right, if I can I’ll get back to Edinburgh tonight. If not, tomorrow morning. In the meantime I want you to spend all your time chasing after Hamish. Get everything you can on him. But do your best to find out where he is now, and what his name is, if he’s changed it.”

  “Will do, Guv.”

  McKenzie said goodbye, and hung up.

  -------------------------

  Tuesday

  22.20

  McKenzie heard it before he could see it. Although it was almost the middle of the night, at this time of the year, it never got completely dark. There was enough light for the helicopter to navigate its way across the island and land in front of the cottage on the road.

  McKenzie was waiting for it as it arrived, and ducking low, he ran forward and jumped aboard when invited to do so by the copilot.