Scamper's Find

by Terry H. Watson

  “They went off the radar after Mexico and probably used it as a stepping stone to South America where they went underground. How they got to the UK remains a mystery.”

  “That is what we hope we can solve together,” replied Rab McKenzie. “We are presently checking out all UK airports’ CCTV, ports and harbours around the country. We may look a small island but we have over 19,000 miles of coastland. Scotland itself has over 6,000 and, if you count the many islands, we have over 10,000 miles of coastlands, so your guys could have entered the UK by any number of ways, legal or otherwise. We’ll check back as far as we can with the recordings; there’s no guarantee of them being still in existence. They are usually overwritten after a relatively short period.”

  The Chicago contingent moved on and viewed the two crime scenes.

  “We would like to see where the crimes were committed. Let’s start from there.”

  “Gruesome!” exclaimed Carole, as they studied the area around the pit shafts. “But why so many miles apart? I’ve heard of these sinkholes back home, but, hey, how scary is that, that they can open up so easily?”

  “Mine shafts are slightly different,” explained one of the Scottish detectives. “The ground has been disturbed by blasting during the working in the mines, to the extent that the ground is weak and the torrential rain we can have here upsets it even more. Mine shafts are man-made and can cave in if there’s been a poorly supported mine roof. Sinkholes are usually the result of extreme rainfall in an area built on chalk; the water seeps through and dissolves the chalk. Whatever we call them, they cause massive problems.”

  After examining what they could of the grim sites and the video recording captured by the police photographer, the detectives visited the cyclist, Tommy Graham, who was nursing his broken ankle. After polite enquiries into the young man’s injuries and commiserating with him on the loss of his treasured cycle, the detectives brought the conversation around to the task in hand.

  “Just so we get the feel of things,” said Harvey to the nervous Tommy who was in awe of the American cops, “we know you’ve made your statement, but run it past us again.”

  Tommy recounted the traumatic events but had nothing new to add to his previous account.

  “To tell you the truth, I want to forget the whole thing, but I can’t seem to shake it off, especially when I try to sleep. I relive it all. Touching that dead guy’s head freaked me out, man. I’ve never been back to that place since. It was a great route for my cycle practice, but all the money in the world won’t get me to ride there again. I keep thinking about how different it would have been if I’d fallen to the left instead of to the right of that pit shaft. I’d be the one in that shaft and it would have been curtains for me.”

  They left to contact the writer whose dog was responsible for the initial horrific discovery. As they drove along, Carole commented on the visit to Tommy.

  “That guy sure needs counselling. Don’t you offer it to folks like him who have had such a traumatic experience?”

  DI McKenzie smiled to himself, raised his eyes to heaven and quietly replied, “He’s a Scot, Carole, we’re hardy folks. We just get on with things. No disrespect Detective, but that’s the way we do it up here. Of course, if the lad asks for counselling, it would be arranged.”

  Julie, now back living in her own home with her three rescue pets, invited the detectives indoors and recounted her version of events.

  “I wasn’t told about the body in the pit shaft, not at first anyway, Craig and Derek thought I’d been upset enough. I feared I’d lost Scamper forever. He had settled in so well here with the other two. He’d had a rough life before he came to me and I feared the pit experience would set him back, but he’s a tough wee guy.”

  “And which of these cute dogs is Scamper,” asked Carole, “the one who was responsible for that awful find?”

  On hearing his name, the infamous mutt made his introduction by tail wagging and general exuberance. Carole, the dog lover, fussed over him. Julie talked through the horrific events but had little to add.

  “How did that guy get there?” she asked the assembled officials. “And a second body was found too, so I’m led to believe. What’s going on in this neck of the woods? It’s normally very quiet. That’s why I chose to live here, I usually get peace to write,” she said as she playfully shook her finger at the lively animal.

  “The last bit of excitement was when some money went missing from the church collection box and the whole village was put on alert to a potential thief in their midst. The excitement died down once the minister remembered he had put it safely in a kitchen cupboard when he went off to answer the phone.”

  “That’s the big question. At the moment we don’t know how those two guys got here,” replied Harvey, “but we won’t stop until we find out why our most wanted American criminals ended up traumatising you Scots, not to mention scaring your lovable pet.”

  They chatted to Julie about her forthcoming book.

  “What’s your book about?”

  Julie explained her genre was historical novels.

  “I love history. I took a history degree at Edinburgh University and became interested in the Stuart and Tudor periods. That’s what I mostly concentrate on; fiction, with a historical bias. I’m writing about the conflict between Mary, Queen of Scots, and her cousin, Queen Elizabeth 1. I’m attempting to portray a more human side to the two women, rather than simply stating facts about their lives.”

  “I’d sure like to read your book when it’s finished. Hey, maybe you could write about all of this some day,” suggested Harvey, waving his hand in the direction of the lively dog as they stood up to take their leave of her.

  “I would certainly not have far to look for inspiration,” she replied with a sigh, “not after Scamper’s find. That dog of mine doesn’t know what he has got us all involved in.”

  “Yeah, but if it wasn’t for him we would still be searching for two wanted criminals. Scamper has done us all a great favour.”

  Scamper, excited at hearing his name yet again, entertained the visitors with his liveliness and fetched his favourite toy in the hope that someone would take up the offer to spend time frolicking with him.

  Her fiancé, Craig, was unavailable for face-to-face interview.

  “Unless,” smiled Rab McKenzie to his guests, “you fancy a trip north to Aberdeen and a fifty-minute helicopter ride out to Shetland and landing on an oil rig in high winds? That’s where the guy will be for another two weeks. He works in the oil industry.”

  “Shetland sounds idyllic,” replied Carole. “I read up about it when we first got your report, and about the re-enactment of burning a Viking boat. You guys sure know how to keep history alive. But I’ll pass on ’copter rides in this wind. Can we call him?”

  Rab arranged for Harvey to call Craig Coyle at Sullom Voe Terminal on mainland Shetland. Craig recounted his horror when he and Derek rescued the bedraggled dog and discovered a body.

  “Derek spotted the guy first. We didn’t want to scare Julie any more than necessary. I had a discreet look at the body when she was engrossed in seeing to Scamper. I don’t mind telling you, I’ve a strong stomach, but, man, when I saw that guy hanging there, eyes bulging and staring right at me, it took me all my time not to throw up. His arms were above his head, handcuffed to an iron pole or something similar, his face distorted and black like a mask. I’ve never been back to that area since that night and don’t intend to. And I hear there was another body found. What’s going on? Is there a mass murderer on the loose?”

  “That’s why we’ve teamed up to investigate this mess. We’ll solve it. We’re all focused on bringing it to a quick conclusion,” he was informed.

  After some more questions, Tony Harvey ended the call, knowing nothing new had been added to the investigation.

  “I didn’t reall
y expect these witnesses to have anything more to tell us, but we had to check things out, if only to see if these folks have recovered. Sometimes after a bit of space and time to reflect, they remember more detail. Seeing the two crime scenes was pretty horrific. We must have a sadistic killer out there and he’s got to be caught. Makes me wonder if there are any more bodies lurking in those pit things?

  “One thing that’s certain is that the crime couldn’t have been committed by one man. Those bodies would have been deadweights, pardon the pun, so it would have taken two people to do the deed. The shafts would need to be levered open and the bodies handcuffed to those iron bars. It would take the strength of Hercules to do that alone.”

  Brody Cameron, puffing on his pipe and blowing smoke rings around him, commented on that.

  “My forensic boys looked at the part of the iron bar that one of the unfortunates was still attached to and wasn’t convinced it was part of the structure of the pit shaft, but there was no way anyone was going to look in there again. Eric’s camera shots were too dark to be any clearer, so where the iron bar came from is anyone’s guess.”

  Carole said, “It seems that Scamper is the only one not fazed by the experience. He’s a great dog. Hey, I’d love to take him home with me; he’d be great company for my old mutt.”

  “Forget it,” laughed her Scottish colleague. “Scamper stays here, he’s our prime witness! We might have to put him in our witness protection scheme if you have your sights on him.”

  Derek Reid’s account did not add anything to his original statement, but like the others, he recalled the horror of the scene as it opened up in front of him.

  “It was nerve-wracking trying to prevent Scamper from slipping and trying to ignore the grisly head only two inches from my face. I don’t mind telling you how sick I was when I got home but had to keep it together for Julie’s sake. It was a horror movie in the making. I thought the ground was going to open up even more and I’d be a goner. It was the most stressful experience of my life. I feared we might have to let Scamper go, but after a few attempts I managed to hook him up. It was as if he trusted me to help him; he didn’t panic or make any sudden moves, he just looked at me with those big doggy eyes; he never took his eyes off me. I knew I had to save him.”

  Derek, like the other witnesses, had been informed of events leading to the search for Barclay Ellis-Jones and Alfred Wysoki.

  “Sounds to me, and I’m an amateur, as if they had been traced by someone affected by their crimes back in the USA, someone who wanted revenge; but why here? What’s that all about?”

  “What we have to establish is how these guys got over here,” said Rab, “and when.”

  “Fishing boat, maybe?”

  “Pardon, Derek? Fishing boat?”

  “Aye. There’s plenty fisher folk and guys with private vessels who would drop your boys off at a quiet location if the price was right. Just a thought, you know. Every inch of our border can’t be manned.”

  “Before we head off, Derek, you were nearer to the scene than any of us. Did you notice anything about the metal bar the guy was hanging from? Any observation on that?”

  “I didn’t stick around to study anything. Just wanted to get the dog out and get away from the place… but now you mention it and from the image in my head that won’t leave me, I don’t think it was part of anything in the pit. I would say at a guess that the guy was handcuffed to it before he was shoved into the pit and the metal bar caught on something and stuck there.”

  “That’s given me food for thought,” replied Brody Cameron as he thanked the young man for his observation.

  On the drive back, Harvey discussed the possibility of the criminals entering the country illegally in a small fishing vessel or something similar.

  “It’s not outwith the realm of possibility, I suppose,” mused Rab, deep in thought. “Leave it with me. I have pals in the fishing industry. I’ll sound them out; not that they would be involved in covert games, but they might just know of others who would not turn down a bit of extra cash. It’s worth investigating but I would doubt your guys arrived here that way. Mind you, I was hearing the other day that the authorities are bringing reinforcements to the Isles of Scilly in an attempt to ward off illegal entry to the UK by that route. I’ll get our border control guys onto this. We’ll explore every avenue to get to the bottom of this.”

  CHAPTER 9

  The lawyers acting for Anna Leci, Brenda Mears’ aunt, spent considerable time dealing with the complexities of her estate and her vast wealth. Once a respectable time had passed, the senior partner contacted Brenda who was at first reluctant to have him in her home, but relented in the hope of perhaps discovering more about what happened to Lucy during her abduction. She asked Molly to be present.

  “Molly, I really don’t want to hear anything about my aunt, but I cling to the hope that we can learn some more about my darling’s last few weeks. Stay by my side during his visit.”

  An unusually nervous Brenda indicated where the lawyer was to sit, and waited. The palms of her hands were clammy. She felt faint and stressed. I don’t need this hassle, she thought as she waited for the elderly man to begin, hoping the meeting would be brief.

  “As Anna Leci’s only surviving relative, there are some issues which have to be resolved regarding the disposal of her properties and personal effects,” began Jordan Garnett, the elderly, senior partner of his family firm as he adjusted his glasses and shuffled large envelopes around before selecting the documents he required. He was equally nervous, having heard of the formidable Brenda Mears and did not relish meeting with her.

  Brenda interrupted him sharply.

  “I have to say at the outset I want nothing, repeat nothing, belonging to that woman. I only allowed you here to shed more light on my daughter’s tragic death.” The lawyer was taken aback at this but surmised that there must have been no love lost between aunt and niece.

  Wishing to avoid confrontation, he suggested, “I understand you are upset and I don’t wish to add to your pain. I have been Anna Leci’s lawyer for many years. I knew her well and advised her in the final draft of her will. Would you prefer, rather than discuss things here, that I leave some sealed documents with you and perhaps contact you when you have had time to digest their contents? One is a letter written for your daughter describing some family history which Anna wanted her to have. Anna left it for Lucy in case she passed on before meeting the child. She was so looking forward to Lucy’s visit. She had terminal cancer and knew her time was limited. Lucy read this document and had it explained to her by her great-aunt. Anna informed me of this just a few days prior to her death when I called to have our last brief conversation. I knew I would never see the dear lady again.”

  The elderly gent removed his handkerchief, wiped his eyes, blew his nose noisily and said, “Excuse me; I fear I may have the beginnings of a nasty cold.”

  Once composed, he continued, “This second sealed document, rather confusingly, was drawn up putting sole blame on herself and exonerating those involved in delivering Lucy to her, giving reasons why they had no choice but to follow her bizarre instructions regarding travel arrangements that she had made with you. I honestly have no idea what this is about. She instructed my junior partner to draw up the document for her to sign during my enforced absence. She had become more and more confused towards the end. It has taken many years of working on her will after the dreadful tragedy involving your young daughter and the staff members who were on the plane with her, which is why I have only now been able to contact you.

  “I think they will go some way to ease your confusion as to what happened to your daughter and why your aunt arranged for her to be away from you much longer than planned. She wanted her to visit her cabin in Montana. She fully intended her to return safely to you after the agreed time. The plane crash was so tragic. At least dear Anna was spared t
he knowledge of the horror of it. She had passed away days before.”

  Brenda looked at Molly to confirm that she too was baffled by what he had related. Neither woman had the energy or presence of mind to question the lawyer on anything he had said. He excused himself, gathered up his belongings, and departed rather abruptly, stating his health was not good and he must leave at once. He appeared to have been overcome emotionally as he spoke of Anna Leci.

  “Well,” declared Molly as they attempted to recover their composure, “did you ever hear the likes of that? What’s gotten into that man? ‘Dear Anna’, my foot! Oh, honey, don’t cry, don’t let him upset you so, he’s a confused old man, ought to have retired years ago, in my opinion.”

  Through tears, Brenda, clinging onto her dear friend, mumbled, “Has he no idea of the reality of Lucy’s abduction? Surely he knew that Anna abducted Lucy. What did he mean by Anna having arranged Lucy’s trip with me? And Lucy looking forward to it? What is going on, Molly? I don’t understand any of this. Oh, I have more to think about than worry about an old man’s memory loss. You are right; he should have retired long ago.”

  In disgust, Brenda tossed the envelopes carelessly onto a table.

  “They can stay there until I decide what to do with them. Molly, I’m going to rest, I have a migraine coming on.”

  Some weeks after the visit from Jordan Garnett, Molly suggested they peruse the documents.

  “It might give us an insight into what gibberish that man was talking about. If things are not any clearer we can trash them. But at least let’s look over them.”

  The two pored over the documents, taking time to digest the contents. As they read, silently at first, tears streamed down their cheeks. They looked at each other and then gave vent to their emotions. It was difficult for them to comprehend such deliberate evil inflicted on people by one sad, mad woman.