Rumours about what they do to you on your first day at high school had most 12-year-olds scared out of their wits but Harry’s major concern was that this was a rugby school and did not have a football team.
Golf quickly became a passion more than a hobby and so followed many trophies as a junior golfer at Portobello’s nine-hole golf course. He could still recall in summer playing there until ten-thirty in the evening until it got dark. Golf was very popular in those days and it was not unusual to queue up on a Saturday morning for two to three hours just to get a tee off time. Can’t see the young kids having the patience for that today.
It had turned dark outside and Harry decided to call it a day and have an early night.
Chapter 7
Portobello Police Station was built circa 1878. Initially as a town hall in the High Street and from the outside today still looked more like a town hall. But step inside and the similarity stopped there.
The offices upstairs had recently been modernised but not the staff.
The entrance at the top of the stairs was fitted with a digital security pad and once inside you were met with typical Scottish humour with a massive colour poster of Eric Cantona of Manchester United trying to karate kick a supporter of the opposition and some clever dick had written underneath ‘THE SHIT HIT THE FAN’
Nobody ever owned up to the regular postings here, but most knew that it was probably the work of PC Paul McDonald, well known for his quick wit, red hair and easy-going nature. This became the focal point for the station humour and the theme changed every week. Last week in its place was a sign saying. ‘Whoever stole the Scotch pie - would you please return it at once! As it is required in court tomorrow as evidence in a poisoning trial.’
There was always a spare office available that could quickly be turned into crime scene headquarters and that was the responsibility of PC Sheena Blackie who excelled in this type of situation. This is why she had joined the police force; not to dish out traffic fines or tick off juvenile offenders nicking items from the local shops.
Multiple homicide in Portobello ... this is exactly the type of challenge that she trained for in the Academy. Although it had come quicker than she expected as she joined the assembled team of experts.
Gathered in the room were a group of hand-picked experienced cops to deal with this crime.
DCI James Scully, DI Craig Spencer, DC Andy Darling, DC Sam Cropley and PC Paul McDonald …
‘The Educator’ was respected by all in the force, well nearly all. Apart from DC Sam Cropley who had been imported to assist in this investigation from Fettes branch, the former police headquarters in Edinburgh.
“Crops” was an old-fashioned detective traversing sideways until his due retirement in a couple of years’ time and hell bent on upstaging his old adversary DCI Scully before he picked up his pension.
DCI Scully opened the initial briefing on the triple murders. “This will be one of the most difficult and nationally scrutinised crimes of the year but we have here today the best people available in Scotland to deal with and solve this horrendous crime.”
He drew their attention to the three photographs pinned to wall, Carole, Sonya and Morag Hunter. Most people in the incident room were experienced coppers with a couple of newcomers, but all were well-known to Scully and personally selected to help solve this crime.
“You are all aware that Harry Cram and myself go back all the way to primary school but that does not mean that he is exempt as a possible suspect. Currently he is in room two waiting to be interviewed for the second time.
“PC Blackie, what has forensics come up with?”
PC Blackie assisted by DI Spencer brought up the grim crime scene on the large plasma screen.
Three lifeless bodies straddled the floor with pools of blood seeping from gunshot wounds to their heads.
The pin that just dropped in the room could be heard by everyone present.
“What you see here are three people murdered by one or more persons.”
DI Spencer continued, “The forensics report from the Edinburgh Mortuary at this stage is incomplete but early indications are that the victims were shot at the scene of the crime and at close range.”
DCI Scully took over. “We will convene the next meeting once the forensic report is made available and I shall inform all present when that will be. In the meantime, talk to your snitches and news contacts. We’re going to need all the help we can on this case. Meeting closed, off you all go.”
As they were leaving the room DI Spencer caught PC Blackie lightly by the arm. “Sheena, fancy a beer after work down The Foresters?”
“Aye, Craig. Does a bear shit in the woods?”
Spencer and Blackie were regulars in The Foresters on any lazy Sunday afternoon and enjoyed each other’s company inside and outside work. The Foresters was the local haunt for the coppers, so the low life tended to give it a wide berth. Most of the locals knew this and it allowed the pub to flourish, especially after its recent new fit out.
“Pint of lager and a vodka and Irn Bru,” Spencer ordered drinks from the friendly manager Nick Donald as Sheena strolled towards their favourite table outside on the footpath.
Sheena observed Craig as he stood at the bar. She was impressed by his gentle manner, loved his old-fashioned crew cut hairstyle and admired his reasonable looks. He had a small birthmark on the right side of his neck which attracted most people’s attention when they met him. He was also well liked by all and sundry and was always generous with his time. His dress code left a bit to be desired but he kept himself clean-shaven and tidy.
Spencer was your typical seasoned police officer. Divorced, no kids, likeable and married to the job. Ever since his early years on the beat he was obsessed in climbing the corporate ladder. Only his stubbornness had stopped him reaching a higher level than his current position.
His new year resolution was intent on changing that this year. Spencer was born and bred in Humbie in East Lothian and brought up with his three brothers as staunch Catholics. His very strict parents were now gone. He was a bit of a ladies’ man and well-known for his overseas travels every time he had a break.
His 1979 two door silver MGB car and his love of the horses were his weaknesses.
Craig arrived back with the drinks and sat down opposite Sheena. “You know I don’t like the way this is going down. Scully is too close to Harry Cram and this looks like involving underworld figures of the nastiest type and I am not so sure that Portobello police can handle this? This is by far the biggest crime since the abduction and murder of that young local girl in July 1983 from the promenade area.”
“Sheena, I think you are overreacting. Scully is extremely professional and knows how to deal with this. He won’t let anyone cloud his judgement or allow anyone from outside to interfere.”
Sheena assumed that the last part of the sentence was aimed at Sam Cropley.
“I hope you are right or things will get as rough as a late Saturday evening bus ride in Glasgow. From experience, I am aware that people’s consideration of others sometimes gets in the way of the truth.”
Spencer smiled, took a sip from his pint pondering what Sheena has just said and deep down he could not disagree. His concentration was on this bonnie Scottish lassie opposite who he would like to know better, but was unsure how she felt. “Aye, it is only a friendly drink with a workmate.” he thought.
Sheena wondered when Craig was going to make the move as she was sure he fancied her and she wouldn’t mind dating him even though she did have the hots for DC Andy Darling. Maybe she thought, tonight I’m on my way from misery to happiness.
“OK. Social time over. I have to head back to the ranch, work to do, so little time to do it. See you Monday.”
Walking back to happiness would have to wait another day for Sheena.
Spencer arrived back at the “ranch” as the cop shop was known to the local criminal element and was immediately challenged by Scully in the corridor.
“Man, where have you been? I have had the hierarchy boxing my ears for over an hour. Do we have a suspect yet? Do we have any solid leads? When will the autopsy reports be ready? It’s been non-stop.”
“My office now!”
Scully was sounding like his boyhood hero the ‘The Enforcer’ and doing a great impersonation.
“I want the following personnel attending the next meeting tomorrow morning, no excuses, DC Cropley, yourself, Mark Cox from finance and DC Andy Darling, and make sure, doubly sure, that the Elgin Lighthouse, (aka Royce Brownlie) is present and I don’t care about his week off.”
Also in attendance will be Superintendent Jack Ruby (alias Ruby Murray due to his love of curries), Dr Colin Tenant, head of forensics and his assistant Marianne Vaughan.
“Anyone who does not turn up will have wished they had. Pass the word.”
The next morning everyone that had been invited assembled nervously for the briefing on ‘Operation Skippy.’
“Everyone here now, DI Spencer?”
“Sir, All present and correct. Superintendent Ruby would like to say a few words, Superintendent Ruby ”
“Ladies and gentlemen, what we have here is a difficult investigation into a multiple homicide that should be treated the same as any other criminal act should be. Forget the numbers. Go talk with your snitches, all the low life, every criminal in the city. Let’s turn them upside down and see what falls out of their pockets. Make them scared, make them talk. We put the heat on the underworld big time, they don’t like it and they will leak information to get us off their backs and out of their hair.
“I want results. I want to see some food on the table at the next briefing. We need to go to the end of the Earth and then keep on going in our endeavours to find out who carried out these atrocious crimes. May I also remind you all that when you have an issue to fix? Make sure that the fix doesn’t become the issue.
“I will leave you with some words of wisdom. What do top detectives have in common? Firstly, the ability of high problem solving. The second is creativity and the third is how they successfully connect with people. Grow these skills and you will give yourself a better chance of success in the long run. Over to you, James.”
Scully thought that last piece of wisdom was about as useful as an ashtray on a motorbike. As the superintendent exited the room you could sense the relief in the air as well as the pungent smell expelled from Sam Cropley. The numpty had no manners.
Scully ignored the wry smile on Cropley’s face and turned to Dr Tenant.
“Dr Tenant would you be kind enough to present your initial findings on the three victims?”
“Okay, please concentrate as I take you through the basic details.”
“Victim one, Carole Anne Hunter, female age 39, cause of death, gunshot wound to the head.”
“Victim two, Morag Hunter female, age 15, cause of death, gunshot wound to the head.”
“Victim three, Sonya Hunter female, age 16, cause of death, gunshot wound to the head.”
“Marianne, can you please attend to the projector?”
She proceeded to set up the system despite DC Cropley trying to peer down her cleavage. An event not unnoticed by Dr Tenant.
She was an extremely competent as well as an attractive assistant forensic officer with limited experience, but had an uncanny way of sizing up any situation rather quickly. She was also suspected of having more than a professional liking for the doctor. The people in the room and outside reserved their judgement on this, as no clear evidence had come to light of any hanky-panky between the pair. But there was no smoke without fire, particularly in the police force.
The graphic photographs that appeared on the screen left a temporary pause in their thoughts.
Dr Tenant continued. “You will note from the photographs that all the victims were shot through the right side of the head. One would assume from this that the perpetrators were right-handed.”
“Anyone who is about to execute someone would grab or hold the victim by the left hand to enable them to fire the gun with their right hand. It is extremely unlikely that a left-handed person would fire the gun at the victim from the right side. We cannot confirm that the perpetrators were right-handed but it is highly probable that they were.”
“So, you can’t conclusively rule out that they may have been left-handed?” asked DC Cropley.
“No, we can’t but as I said it would be extremely unlikely.”
“We shall conclude our post mortems report on all the victims on Sunday morning and our final presentation will be scheduled to be tabled at Monday’s meeting.”
Dr Tenant and his assistant left the room for the mortuary.
Chapter 8
The sound of the intercom brought Harry out of his current thought bubble. He opened the blinds to look out over the street and he could see Blair’s wonderful old vintage 1994 Volvo sticking out like a sore thumb amongst the new BMWs and other slick European cars.
“How are you auld yin?” was the friendly greeting from his best mate as he opened the apartment door.
“Considering the events of the past few days, I suppose not too bad.”
“I only arrived back from holidays this morning and heard the news. I tried to call you, no answer. So, took a punt on driving over. You going to offer me a drink then before you tell me what’s happened?”
Harry poured a couple of drams of sixteen-year-old single malt Scapa and proceeded to bring him up to speed with the details of the awful tragedy.
“I warned you about getting involved with anyone linked to Alf Hunter. It always ends in trouble, usually big trouble, but you couldn’t resist the temptation of an attractive person of the opposite sex. When will you learn to listen to Uncle Blair?”
“Blair, I feel like I am diagonally parked in a parallel universe with no way to turn.”
“Well, I think we need to sample some more of that Scapa to help get the mind ticking over.” He eyed the half empty bottle on the kitchen bench.
Harry poured another two drinks, slightly larger than the first ones. The golden nectar that ebbed slowly through their veins was as soothing as an injection of bliss and succeeded in touching the softness of their souls.
“I think we need some extra legs on this matter,” Blair suggested.
Blair Edwards was an old friend. They went back all the way to primary school and always kept in touch no matter what. No matter where.
After his girlfriend passed on a couple of years ago after a short illness Blair had kept himself to himself. He loved his job as an old-fashioned clerk of works for the Edinburgh City Council. A job he had carried out for over thirty years and still enjoyed as much today as the day he started.
There were not many buildings in the city that he didn’t know and he had a vast knowledge of their history. Many of his friends over the years had suggested he would make a fantastic tour guide especially during the festival when the city population nearly doubled over a six-week period.
He wore clothes rather awkwardly. In fact, he only ever bought clothes from the charity shops in Stockbridge. Lately, he had eyes for a local window dresser who worked in one of those shops as a volunteer on weekends and was gently pursuing her as his current project.
Clothes for him were just items to keep out the cold and rain, nothing more nothing less, and no matter what he wore, it never matched his pony tailed grey hair and three-day stubble.
He didn’t like spending money. He was so tight that you couldn’t get an American Express card between the cheeks of his arse.
He could have been mistaken for a younger Billy Connolly. In fact, many times during the Edinburgh Festival he was regularly stopped and asked for a selfie. Rather than argue, he generally played along and the people left excited and convinced that they had a special photograph with the famous Scottish comedian.
His listed walk was a recognisable feature due to the fact from an early age his left leg was one inch longer than the right due to a short illn
ess in his childhood. During his school years, he tended to be known as hop along. A reminder of how cruel kids can be to each other.
His favourite coat was in fact the old-fashioned traditional Scottish duffle coat complete with the bullet-shaped wooden buttons with leather patches on the elbows and complete with a pair of old brown brogue shoes.
Blair was also a regular at the gym as he reckoned it was better hitting the gym to release stress than hitting the people who caused you the stress in the first place.
“I know you feel that you have been thrown a curve ball and where do you go from here? The most important thing is to clear your name and as I said we need extra legs that we can trust to help us.”
“Who are you thinking of?”
“Well DI Alex Stone would be a great start. Her contacts and skills would be welcome and she is a trusted friend.”
“Where would I be without a good friend like you?”
“Up shit creek without a paddle. How about we all meet on Monday and we can develop a strategy to deal with this awful mess?”
“Sounds like a plan to me, I’ll contact Alex. Another dram?”
Chapter 9
DCI Scully and DI Spencer threw out the questions at the second interview then sat quietly through the responses of Harry Cram. They listened intently and generally didn’t interrupt until he finished answering.
“Mr. Cram, did you touch anything specific other than the torch and the baseball bat?” DI Spencer asked him.
“Not that I can remember but I could have. Hell, my fingerprints and DNA would be all over the house.”
DCI Scully continued, “I know this is an extremely difficult time for you but can you tell us why you visited the house and what your relationship to the deceased was?”
“Carole was an old school friend.”
“You haven’t quite answered my question. What was your reason for visiting Sixty-Six Windsor Place on Friday evening?”
Windsor Place Page 3
