Hunter's Rules (The Edinburgh Crime Mysteries Book 6)

by Val Penny

  “I bet you say that to all the nice boys, boss.” Rachael smiled.

  “Maybe, but nobody ever said Tim was a nice boy.”

  Tim got up and followed Hunter towards the door. “Where are we going today?”

  “We’re off to the countryside to see Lachlan and Felix. I don’t think I’ve ever met Felix.”

  “You’ve led a charmed life, boss. My car or a pool car?”

  “No contest. Your car, and you drive.”

  Tim nodded and followed Hunter to the car park. He unlocked the car from halfway across. “I take it we’ve heard back from the Spanish police. Is there a warrant out on Felix?”

  “No, but there would have been if he hadn’t left Ibiza so quickly. He was there for less than twenty-four hours.”

  “Yet he still managed to get into trouble. It must be a gift. Do we know what went on?”

  “I’ll tell you what the Spaniards said when we’re on our way. I have a much more pressing problem.”

  “Can I help?”

  “Not unless you can think of a good way for me to celebrate Gillian’s birthday before she leaves for Kiev.”

  “Injured young women aside, the Pompadour was lovely.”

  “A bit formal, perhaps.”

  “Then it’s your problem.”

  “Thanks. You’re all heart.”

  ***

  When they got to Lachlan’s estate, Hunter was surprised by the length of the driveway.

  “It’s quite a pile, isn’t it?” He looked at the grand house that was coming into view.

  “Yes, the Buchanans are an old family.”

  “Doesn’t make them better than the rest of us.”

  “Don’t let Lucky hear you say that.” Tim grinned and pulled up behind the Range Rover. “Well, it looks like Lucky’s at home.” He locked his car, out of habit rather than necessity.

  Hunter walked towards the door, while taking in his surroundings. He thought about his own modest flat in Leith and looked at the mansion in front of him. It did him no good to wonder why, and he wasn’t jealous. You could only be in one room at any time. He just wondered why such disparities between rich and poor were allowed to continue today. Some folk struggled to make ends meet from one month to the next, and others didn’t know the end or beginning of their entitlement.

  Oh dear, he was beginning to think like his father. They would laugh about that at the next family dinner. He rang the bell and was aware of Tim standing behind him. He was another man who was so wealthy that he could probably buy this estate from under the Buchanans, but Tim rarely let that slip. He did his job, not for the money, but out of a sense of duty, and because he loved it.

  A man in a sharp suit answered the door. “How may I assist you, gentlemen?”

  “DI Hunter Wilson and DC Tim Myerscough to see Lord Lachlan and Sir Felix Buchanan,” Hunter said.

  “Of course, sir. Mr Timothy, I didn’t notice you there.”

  As Tim stood six foot four in his socks, Hunter thought this was unlikely, but made no comment.”

  “Good to see you, too, McKellar,” Tim said.

  “The gentlemen are in the library. Just let me tell them you’re here.”

  Hunter looked around the entrance hall. He felt glad he didn’t have to clean and tidy this space before Meera stayed over. Then he thought that if he lived here, he’d have people to do that for him.

  “This way, detectives. Tea or coffee?”

  “Coffee please,” Hunter said.

  “Thanks, McKellar. Make that two,” Tim said. He followed Hunter into the library, and Lucky did the introductions.

  “I believe you’re here about that dreadful attack on the young woman at the Waldorf Astoria. Ghastly,” Lucky said. “Of course, I was still in rehab, and Felix was out of the country, so I don’t see how we can help, but we will if we can. Anything for the boys in blue, right, Felix?”

  “Yes, Lucky, anything at all. As long as it’s not running. I had to run to catch my plane home and twisted my ankle. All strapped up, I’m afraid.”

  McKellar opened the door, and a young woman brought in a tray with a large cafetiere and a plate of home-made biscuits on it.

  “That’s fine, thank you. We’ll serve ourselves,” Lucky said.

  When all the drinks were poured and biscuits offered, Hunter returned to business.

  “Lord Buchanan, can you tell us what your routine was at the end of your time in the rehabilitation facility?”

  “The staff are good, but not trusting. Advisedly so,” Lucky said. There are cameras all over the grounds. You have to be careful, or they watch your every move.”

  “And were you?”

  “What?”

  “Were you careful?”

  “Sometimes. But towards the end of your time, they want to know that you can be trusted in the outside world. That’s the most difficult bit. I’ve always ridden, so I made use of the local riding stables. Sometimes they’d encourage me to go out for coffee or for a pub lunch. Probably just to see that I could do it without coming back high.”

  “Probably,” Tim said.

  “The dealers know the facility is there so there’s always one ready to pounce or entice you back to the dark side.”

  “Did you succumb?” Tim asked.

  “No. I rather surprised myself. I even gave up the ciggies for a while, but that was a step too far. Still, I’m training for a marathon, so I’d go running in the evenings. It’s cooler then. I preferred to run in the evenings.”

  “Did you have a curfew?” Hunter asked.

  “Not towards the end. You have to sign in and out, but there’s no curfew as such.”

  “The sign-in book shows you were out on the evening of the attack,” Tim said.

  “I probably was. I don’t remember specifically, but I was doing a lot of running then and still am, training for the marathon.”

  “Can you think about that evening, Lord Buchanan? Did you see anybody while you were out? Or more specifically, would anybody have seen you?”

  “Let me think. I remember there was a bit of a drizzle most evenings. Oh yes, and it was the day after Jessie’s birthday.”

  “Who’s Jessie?”

  “A nurse at the facility, boss,” Tim replied.

  “I do remember it. I passed one woman who was out walking her dog. Some kind of fashionable half-breed with a silly name. A few cars drove past me and there was one car in a layby with a couple in it. My goodness how that one was rocking about. I doubt any of them would even have noticed me, especially that couple.” Lucky snorted with laughter and glanced at Felix. He laughed too.

  “The sign-in book shows you got back quite late,” Tim said. “Theoretically, you could have had dinner in Edinburgh and got a taxi back to the rehab centre.”

  “Maybe I could have, but I didn’t, Tim.”

  “Jessie said you grew your beard in rehab.”

  “But it didn’t suit me. I shaved it off. Just kept the moustache and a bit of George Michael stubble. Looks good, don’t you think?”

  “You shaved it off the day you left. She mentioned it when I picked you up. Do you have contact lenses?”

  “Yes, so what?”

  “Could we see them please? All of them.”

  “What are you getting at now, Tim?”

  “Lucky, you have blue eyes. We know our perpetrator had brown eyes.”

  “Then it wasn’t me.”

  “Do you have any coloured contact lenses?”

  “I certainly do not! Why would I want to hide my beautiful baby blues?”

  ***

  They turned their attention to Felix, who looked around the room nervously. “I was away for just under a week at that time, so I can’t really assist you gents.”

  “It’s interesting, because the Spanish authorities tell a different story,” Hunter said. “They told us you arrived on the last flight onto Ibiza, did a DJ gig until the early hours, and left the following morning before they could collar you for a complaint
made by a local woman.”

  “That’s not how I remember it. Anyway, does that mean they’re not chasing me?”

  “They’re not, but I doubt you’ll be welcome on the island any time soon. I hope the gig was worth it,” Hunter said.

  “Damn right it was. I made a fortune for four hours’ work. That bitch was an old tart anyway.”

  “You seemed to like her enough to bite and scratch her, and rip her clothes.”

  “If that’s what she said, she’s a liar. Anyway, I couldn’t have attacked your woman, I wasn’t here.”

  “If you came back so soon, why did it take you so long to get in touch with me and come home?” Lucky asked.

  “Things to do, man. You know how it is.”

  “It would have been tight, but there’s just about enough time for you to be our man,”

  “That’s ridiculous. No way I’d have made my flight.”

  “Felix, witnesses have identified you and with brown eyes and dark hair and beard, I’m afraid you’re in the frame,” Tim said.

  “Are Lucky and I under arrest?”

  “No, but don’t go anywhere, will you? Thanks for the coffee.” Hunter stood up, and he and Tim left the men together in the library.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  “Hunter. Hunter. We’ve had a call about a burglary in West Mains Road. It’s a Mr Morrison who’s reported it, says your lot have been in touch with his neighbour, Jamie Thomson. He and Thomson don’t get along, and he’s sure Thomson has instigated this break-in today,” the desk sergeant said.

  “I don’t suppose he has any evidence, Charlie?”

  “What, beyond Jamie Thomson being a troublesome arse? No, I don’t think he does. Do you want to send someone over to work with my boys?”

  “I’ll send Myerscough and Grant over. They’ve dealt with Jamie Thomson and his family before.”

  “Fuck’s sake, Hunter, we’ve all dealt with the bloody Thomsons. Fine, I’ll tell them Myerscough and Grant are on their way.”

  ***

  Tim pulled up behind the panda car and walked towards the Morrisons’ home.

  “Aren’t we here to question Jamie?” Mel asked.

  “Yes, but I’d like to know what we’re questioning him about before we knock on his door.”

  “Good thinking. Have you decided what to do for Gillian’s birthday yet?”

  “I haven’t done that much thinking.”

  They put on their protective gear at the gate then went into the house. Mrs Morrison was sitting on the stairs crying. Mr Morrison was shouting at PC Scott Clark while photographer Sam Hutchins quietly got on with her job taking pictures of everything as it had been found.

  “CSIs on their way, Scott?” Mel asked.

  “They’re here already. In the dining room just now, I think.”

  Mr Morrison continued bellowing, and Tim had enough. He pulled himself up to his full height and looked down at the irate man.

  “How dare you speak to my colleague like that, Mr Morrison? You need his help. You need my help. And you are not going to get it tonight if you do not calm down. I suggest you go into the hallway and comfort your wife. Then it might be nice to check how everybody takes their tea and boil a kettle. Do I make myself clear?”

  “But that little fucker Jamie has gone too far this time. All me valuables are gone. He’s taken the lot. Even the things in the safe under the floorboards in the dining room. He knows I’m waiting to get my hip done, so I can’t give chase, can I? He’s a bloody parasite that boy.”

  “You don’t know it was Jamie Thomson, and neither do I. Let us do our job while you comfort your wife.” Tim paused. “Did Jamie know about your safe under the floor?” he asked.

  “Doubt it. How would he? He’s only been in once or twice and never for dinner.”

  “That’s what I thought. Who did know about the safe?”

  “I don’t know. My nephew Hector and Arjun. He advised us to put it in. It wouldn’t be him, he’s like family, but he’s inside.”

  “Arjun Mansoor?”

  “Yes, he’s a family friend.”

  “Mr Morrison, Arjun Mansoor is nobody’s friend. What’s your nephew’s full name?”

  “Hector. Hector Hamilton. He’s done right well for himself. Estate agent down the coast, he is. His brother John works with him too, now. Great lads.”

  “I see. We’ll do our best by you and your wife and try to find out who invaded your home. Mine’s just milk, thanks.”

  “Scott, you okay here?”

  “Yeah, it’ll be fine. You going next door?”

  “Yes. We’ll go and speak to Jamie now.”

  ***

  Tim and Mel rang the doorbell of Jamie’s home that he and Linda shared with Frankie and his family. Frankie opened the door. He had a plastic fork in one hand and a plate of chicken nuggets and peas in the other.

  “Come in. You look all kitted out for a fancy dress party,” he said. “It’s time for the girls to eat. You don’t want to get between Kylie or Dannii and their food.”

  Tim and Mel followed him into the dining room where Donna was supervising Kylie, and Dannii was clearly relieved to see her father return with her plate.

  “We’re looking for Jamie,” Mel said. “Is he in?”

  “No, he and Linda have been at the hospital all day. Eileen’s having difficulty coming to terms with being blind, and all three of them had time with folk from the Royal National Institute of Blind People, Guide Dog people, Sight Scotland, and all sorts of therapists. I think someone was going in from Eileen’s work too, just to reassure her that they want her back.”

  “That seems a lot in one day.”

  “I said that, Mel. But when did Jamie ever listen to me, or anybody else for that matter? Is this about the break-in next door? Because we can’t help you much, Donna and I were at Thomson’s Top Cars all day. You can check our CCTV if you want.”

  “Thanks, Frankie. We’ll get a uniform over tomorrow to pick it up. I suppose the staff in the ward and the hospital CCTV will tell us Jamie was where you say he was too,” Tim said. “Do you know where Mr and Mrs Morrison kept their valuables?”

  “In the wardrobe? A drawer in the dressing table? Under the bed?” Frankie suggested.

  “Some people keep stuff in their mattress,” Donna volunteered.

  “Do they?”

  “You have both done very well girls. Would you like a yoghurt?”

  The girls clamoured for the suggested treat, and Frankie grinned.

  “Is that it?” he asked Tim.

  “Yes. Thanks, Frankie. We’ll see ourselves out.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  As Tim and Mel closed the door of Frankie and Jamie’s home, they heard Mr Morrison bellowing again. This time the CSIs seemed to be in the line of fire. Tim reached the end of his patience. He jumped the fence between the gardens and came face to face with the man.

  “Mr Morrison, you’re shouting at my colleagues again. I told you not to do that.”

  “They want to take fingerprints from me and my wife. That’s not right. They’ll add them to a secret database that the government is keeping.”

  “Believe me, that is not so.”

  “Then why do they need them, huh? Of course our fingerprints are going to be in our house. We bloody live here.”

  Tim took a deep breath. “Exactly. If we have a record of your prints, and we find them around where your valuables are kept, we can discount them from our enquiries and find the thieves more quickly. If we don’t have your fingerprints, everything takes longer because we have to check and discount you and Mrs Morrison every time we find them.”

  “And what happens to them later?”

  “We destroy them. We no longer need them for elimination purposes once your case is completed.”

  “And that’s true?”

  “That’s true.”

  “Maggie, give them your prints, doll. It’ll let them catch that little turd next door faster.”

&nb
sp; Tim shook his head and went to speak to Fergie, who was leading the CSIs. He learned they had found several sets of prints that they would have to send off for identification. There was also a safe under the floor in the dining room that had been opened and the contents taken, but the one under the kitchen floor hadn’t been touched.

  “What’s in that one?” Tim asked.

  “No idea. Mr Morrison refuses to open it. He says it’s not relevant because it only has documents in it,” Sam said. “He won’t let me go up into the loft either. Says nobody’s been up there and nothing is taken.”

  “How does he know, if no one has looked?” Sam shrugged and carried on with her work. The CSIs looked equally bemused.

  “Mr Morrison,” Tim said.

  “In the kitchen getting me prints done, lad.”

  “Why do you think the safe under the kitchen floor wasn’t touched?”

  “Nobody knew it was there. Only me and Maggie.”

  “What’s in it?”

  “Copies of our Wills, titles for the house, that kind of gubbins. Nowt that’ll sell.”

  “Can we check your attic, in case that’s how the burglars got in?”

  “Me door was busted, lad. That’s how they got in. That’s all about it.”

  “That’s fine, but any crime number we give you will exclude the attic because we haven’t had a chance to check it. Your insurance company will notice that.”

  “Fuck.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  “So you never got to speak to Jamie?” Hunter asked Mel.

  “No. He was still at the hospital with Eileen and Linda. The staff confirmed they’d been in and out of meetings and therapy sessions all day right from early doors.”

  “I think I’d need more than therapy if I’d been through what Eileen’s suffered. Still, I’d like you to talk to Jamie about the burglary at the Morrisons. Catch up with him today, will you? And if Neil’s going to work with our team, he might as well get to know Jamie Thomson too. He’ll see enough of him. Why is that lad at the centre of anything that goes wrong in this city?”

  ***

  Mel and Neil arrived early at Jamie’s West Mains Road home. Jamie answered the door holding a piece of jammy toast in his left hand.