Windsor Place

by Russell Robertson

  James nodded.

  “You know I am only a couple of years away from retirement. This Police Scotland thing is not working out and retirement can’t come quick enough for me.”

  James responded, “You know what they say about retirement from the force, sir. You can resign but you never really leave.”

  “Maybe, James, maybe. Keep me informed.”

  That was the cue for James to leave the superintendent’s office.

  James was angry but he understood the reasons the superintendent gave and in a way, it did relieve some pressure for him and removed any possible conflict with his friend.

  Harry was on his way to the library to undertake some research when he received a message on his mobile to call Iona as soon as possible. He guessed what the outcome of the call would be so he decided to put it off for a wee while.

  When Iona answered the phone, she sounded very calm. “Harry, Tich passed away during the night.”

  “I am so sorry to hear that. How are you coping?”

  “I’m okay. Our sons are here. The funeral is on Wednesday next week. You able to make it? He would like you to be there.”

  “Of course, I will. I’ll call you in a couple of days for the details. Again, I’m so sorry.”

  Chapter 65

  Harry had finished his round of golf, showered, changed and had a couple of beers with his playing partners at the clubhouse and was now making his way to the Greywalls restaurant to meet Skye.

  For a nanosecond, he thought about whether this was too soon after Carole’s death.

  Skye was seated at the bar when he entered the restaurant and she greeted him with the familiar friendly peck on the cheek. “How was the golf? Did you win?”

  “Golf was good despite the icy winds and lost balls and yes, I managed a win on the last hole.”

  Harry ordered a light beer for himself and a red wine for Skye as they chatted at the cocktail bar while they waited for their reserved table.

  It was difficult to take his eyes of his dinner partner. She was dressed in a long black tailored body-hugging dress. Her charcoal black hair was hanging loosely around her shoulders. There was a shyness and softness to her. Her emerald-coloured jewellery looked great against her skin and her toned shape was eye-catching, to say the least.

  Conversation was very easy between them during dinner and Skye appeared to be quite relaxed.

  They spent the rest of the evening with small talk. Nothing too personal and a nice bottle of Merlot. Harry found out a little bit of her past and he returned the favour.

  Harry could feel the soft vibration of his mobile in his pocket and was tempted to ignore it.

  “Do you mind if I answer this?”

  “No problem.”

  Harry listened to the caller without interrupting and when they finished he thanked him for the call and hung up.

  Skye observed that the call had upset him. “Everything okay?”

  “Shit! Yesterday I get the news that one of my old school friends passed away and that call was about another friend in a nursing home up the road at Tranent who’d just had a massive stroke.”

  “Not been a great week for you, has it?”

  Harry nodded. “I hate hospitals and funerals and now I have to deal with both in the next few days.”

  “I have to go to Fortrose for the funeral next week on Wednesday.”

  Skye floored him with her next comment. “I would like to come with you if that’s okay? I have a couple of days leave up my sleeve and I would be company on the drive.”

  “I am planning to stay there on Wednesday evening and drive back the following morning.” Harry replied quickly.

  “That’s cool with me.”

  Skye insisted on picking up the tab. Harry insisted that it was his call, but lost.

  They left the restaurant and strolled towards the car park. He was surprised that there was no invitation for coffee at her apartment but in a way, he was relieved.

  “Harry, it’s been a wonderful evening, I’m glad you came. My apartment is only a five-minute walk away. I think I’ll walk off some of that dinner tonight. Drive safely back to Portobello. Call me tomorrow about next Wednesday.”

  With that she blew him a kiss and turned and walked away. Skye was also extremely disappointed as she also had other plans for the evening but decided also that the time was not right.

  Nothing for him tonight – absolutely zilch –was his immediate thought. Maybe the hunt was better than the kill.

  The drive back to Portobello was easy given the fact that there was hardly any traffic on the road. There were no four-lane motorways here, leaving this part of the countryside as near as untouched by what they call progress. Harry was also aware that this was the same road that Reginald Buchanan had taken on his last drive on that fateful Saturday evening a couple of months earlier.

  And now, he had received sad news about Sandy Hall. He would visit him in hospital tomorrow.

  The image of a beautiful Skye helped take his mind away from those dark thoughts during the drive home

  Chapter 66

  Organised chaos was the best way to describe Portobello Police Station. No different to his own station really, except this chaos was on a larger scale. DCI Gerry Bowen could deal with that. He had assembled the original teams on the Hunter and Buchanan cases to introduce himself and delegate who would work where.

  Bowen was an extremely experienced and well-organised detective who loved the chase. He was known for his strong work ethic throughout his policing years and had been responsible for clearing up numerous cold cases. He did not suffer fools gladly but was fair in his dealings with the criminal world that earned him, some would say an unofficial respect.

  He knew from reading the files that they were complicated and dangerous cases and doubted that he would resolve them within the short period he had been given. But he would give it his best shot. The atmosphere in the incident room was cold and uneasy to say the least. Nobody liked an intruder coming in and telling them what they had done wrong.

  Bowen opened the meeting. “As everyone here is aware we’re not moving forward on the Hunter and Buchanan cases. The top brass in their wisdom have decided that each Inspector needs to concentrate on one case. So, DCI Scully will take charge of the Buchanan case and I’ll be running the Hunter case as of today.

  “The following people will be attached to the Hunter case, Sam Cropley, Andy Darling and PC Sheena Blackie.

  “Craig Spencer, PCs Paul McDonald and Bobby Gordon will assist DCI Scully on the Buchanan case.

  “Dr. Tenant, Marianne Vaughan and Royce Brownlie when required, will assist in both cases. Okay, so let’s go over what we have to date?”

  Bowen proceeded to read from his notes. “We know that the vehicle identified at both crime scenes belonged to a Mr. Marek Wojciech, a plumber from Leith who went to Benidorm for three week’s holiday, and left his van at the airport where it was stolen, used in the crimes and cleverly returned to the airport. That fact alone assures us that we are dealing with professionals.

  “Mr. Wojciech has since been interviewed by DI Spencer with the assistance of a Polish interpreter and cleared of any involvement in the crimes. Forensics on the vehicle didn’t produce any fingerprints or leads. That means the person or persons who stole the van were extremely careful.

  “We know that the victims in both cases died of gunshot wounds to the head. We know that Harry Cram is carrying out his own private investigation.

  “We can confirm that the Hunter family died on the evening of the thirteenth of November 2015 and Reginald Buchanan died on the evening of the twenty first of November 2015.

  “We suspect that Alf Hunter may be involved in both crimes and that both sets of murders were carried out by professional hit-men. Possibly the Mason brothers.

  “What we don’t have is enough information or evidence to take to the Procurator Fiscal for charges to be laid.

  “So. What we need to do is obtain the evid
ence required to put forward a strong case for prosecution. That’s why we are here today. We have been given two weeks to come up with results or the cases will be handed over to CIS. And we all know that means that everyone in this room will have failed to do their job.

  “Let’s get moving, work together and prove the top brass wrong. The next two weeks will be tough and many of you will struggle with the intensity. That’s how I operate and that’s why I get results. My door is always open, It needs to be. Let’s waste no more time, let’s go out and get the results we deserve.”

  Bowen hoped that the teams were suitably encouraged and motivated, although he had doubts about that. If discipline didn’t work he felt sure that they would invent an app for it.

  Chapter 67

  Hospitals were never places of joy and you were reminded of that in the faces of not only the patients but the friends and family that were visiting.

  Some bright committee a few years ago had decided that the original infirmary in the city centre should be closed and relocated to a green field site on the outskirts of the city to the dismay of most people.

  It was now located at Little France next to open fields, an ancient castle and miles away from most facilities. The original infirmary was in the process of being turned into luxury accommodation.

  Upon reading the directory Harry discovered that the coronary ward was on the second level and enquired at the reception desk which room Sandy Hall was in.

  “Are you family?” demanded the nurse.

  Harry replied that he was.

  “Room twenty-four. I think he is awake now. Just go in quietly please.” The nurse pointed. “Up that way. Take the lift, second floor, turn left when you get out and it’s the second room on the right.”

  Clinical was the best way to describe the hospital and the nurse who he felt sure had been trained by the Third Reich.

  He made his way to the room. There were four people in the tiny ward and all were asleep or some maybe even in a coma.

  Sandy was over at the window bed and looked as peaceful as a baby after a feed.

  Harry pulled up a chair and decided just to sit for a while and let Sandy wake up on his own.

  Plastic tubes were going everywhere, machines were making noises and nurses kept popping in and out every few minutes. Christ, how did the patients manage to stay asleep with all that going on around them. It was more like Princes Street during the festival period than a stroke ward.

  Half an hour went by and still no sign of Sandy wakening up, then suddenly two nurses appeared at his bedside. “Mr. Hall, time for your tablets and vitals and you also have a visitor.”

  His eyes opened slowly, the right eye less than the left. Harry could also see that his mouth was also drooping to the right. The nurses sat him up but he didn’t appear to be with it. They took his vitals and fed him a couple of tablets and left as quickly as they arrived.

  “Sandy, it’s Harry Cram. How are you?”

  Sandy looked up at him, tried to speak but nothing came out. He looked agitated. Then he closed his eyes and dropped back into sleep.

  Harry decided that it would be better if he left him alone and asked to see the doctor on the way out.

  The doctor appeared to have had a personality bypass, but he was thorough in his medical evaluation of his patient.

  The prognosis was not good, Sandy had a massive stroke and the next seventy-two hours were crucial as to what degree of recovery he made, if any.

  It would appear getting any further information from Sandy was unlikely but Harry would still visit him. Poor sod, he had no one else.

  Chapter 68

  Harry sat on a bench at the rear of the church accompanied by Skye. That way he could take a low profile, which is the way he preferred to deal with funerals. It also allowed him to see who was in attendance.

  He could never agree with the proposition that this was a celebration of someone’s life as suggested by the minister. All he could see and feel was sadness. Sadness that someone’s life had come to a premature end leaving a loving family to grieve.

  Two funerals back-to-back left him feeling sad and angry.

  Skye, appropriately dressed in black, said nothing during the service. She just sat there watching the proceedings, holding Harry’s hand and taking it all in while supporting her newly found friend.

  The service was short with no eulogies or photos, just the usual sermon and some prayers. Then the curtains drew back, the casket disappeared and the crowd shuffled in silence out of the church. This must be how Tich had wanted it.

  The basic function room in a local pub served as the get-together after the funeral.

  Apart from Skye, Iona and her family, Harry didn’t know anyone in the room, so he decided that they wouldn’t hang around. They said goodbye to Iona and her family members and made their way to the hotel in Inverness where they were booked in.

  It was late in the afternoon and the sun was going down as they checked into their separate rooms after the silent twenty-minute drive from Fortrose.

  They both agreed that a nice stroll around the town before dinner would be a good idea. Clear the cobwebs.

  Inverness was a town of around fifty-thousand and was located at the mouth of the River Ness which flows from the world-famous Loch Ness. It was also the administrative capital of the Scottish Highlands. It’s eight thousand students at the university brought youth and jobs to the area.

  It was a pleasant walk along the river bank passing many churches, gardens and perched perfectly on a hill, a castle. Skye added to the pleasantness of the afternoon by taking his hand on the way back to the hotel.

  Harry was not what you would call a romantic. Although he liked the feeling and at the moment he couldn’t care less what other people thought.

  Dinner at the hotel was below average as they discussed the sad events of today and the nice walk late in the afternoon.

  Harry was feeling drained and while he didn’t want to cut short the evening nor the company, he knew they had a long drive back to Edinburgh tomorrow. “Don’t want to be a party pooper but it’s been a long day for both of us and I think I’ll call it a day if you don’t mind.”

  “I do mind, but you’re right. Although I can’t pretend that I didn’t have other ideas for the rest of the evening.”

  Harry didn’t know what to say. He just smiled.

  The drive back to Edinburgh was uneventful except for the young idiot who tried to overtake them unsuccessfully on a bend on the road just outside Aviemore.

  They parked the car in the basement of their apartments at four in the afternoon.

  “Thanks for the last couple of days Skye. I really appreciated it.”

  “You deserve it, look, I’m meeting up with one of my girlfriends tonight in Rose Street. Would you like to join us?”

  “Thanks, but I need to spend a little time on the phone tonight.”

  “Okay, catch you tomorrow?”

  “Sure. Give me a call.”

  With that, Skye jumped into the lift and gave Harry a lingering look as the doors closed. He climbed the stairs to go out and get some rolls and fresh milk from the local grocery store.

  Chapter 69

  On his way to meet James Scully in Musselburgh, Harry decided to drop in on his favourite butcher shop, whose sign outside the shop said it all, “Innovation, not imitation.”

  Pete the butcher seemed to be always open for business, no matter when you drove past his shop in the North High Street in Musselburgh. Harry parked his car behind the shop and wandered over to stock up on some meat and pies.

  Pete was always in the shop and today was no exception. “Hi, Harry. Long time, no see. What can we do you for today?”

  “Hmm, how about we start with a couple of those lovely Scotch pies, a good-sized haggis and some of that sumptuous black pudding from Stornaway.”

  Pete went about his business in his normal efficient way as Harry searched the glass display for some other treats and came acro
ss a sign that said, “Enthusiastic Stew.”

  “What’s that Pete?” as he pointed through the glass.

  “That’s the speciality of Danny, the younger butcher. Really nice and tender.”

  “So, tell me, why does he call it his ‘Enthusiastic Stew’?”

  “Because he puts everything he can into it!”

  You could hear the stifled laughter coming from the boys in the back of the shop.

  “Ah, the East Lothian sense of humour. The world would be a sad place without it. Give me some of that as well then.”

  Pete packaged it all up for him.

  “Can I leave it here and pick it up on my way back this arvo?”

  “No worries, mate.” Pete said in his best mock Aussie accent.

  It was only a couple of minutes drive to the Caffe Borsa where he was meeting James for a coffee. The town was busy and parking was always difficult. He had to drive around for a while before he found a parking spot in Ambassador Court, just across from their meeting point.

  Not surprisingly, James had not arrived either. He was no doubt having the same parking issues. Which was confirmed when he arrived ten minutes later.

  “You know, it’s not that long ago I can remember you could fire a gun up the High Street here and no one would get hurt. How times have changed.”

  “Getting all sentimental, eh? Wishing the good old days were back, James?”

  “Probably. Not the same any more. The pace is too fast. No one has any time for anyone anymore. You should have stayed in OZ. I’m sure it’s not like that there.”

  “You’d be surprised, James. The world’s the same no matter where you go these days. Anyway, I’m sure you didn’t ask me here to talk about new attitudes and the old days.”

  “No. You are right. I was called into Ruby’s office late yesterday and he informed me that he was removing me from the murder enquiry of Carole and the girls and I wanted to let you know before you got it from anyone else.”