by Val Penny
“I ran all the way. I only had to hitch a lift on the way home. I hurt my ankle. It’s one of the perils of running in the dark.”
“Who gave you the lift?”
“John his name was. Looked like a banker or an accountant. Suit and tie and so on.”
“What route did you take that night?”
“I can’t remember exactly, but I tried to keep off the major roads. That’s why it took me so long to hitch a lift.”
“What were you wearing?”
“I didn’t go to dinner in my running gear, if that’s what you think.”
“What did you wear to dinner?” Nadia asked. “The room at the Waldorf Astoria was booked under an assumed name and secured with a cash payment. Did you regularly go into the city during your practice runs?”
“It was against the rules to leave the area. I wasn’t in the city.”
“Which ankle did you hurt, Lord Buchanan?” Colin asked.
“My left ankle. Now, if that’s all, I need a cigarette and a decent coffee. This muck is revolting.”
“Something we can all agree on. Thank you for your time. If you wait in reception, somebody will take you and your cousin back home after we’ve interviewed him.” Colin shook hands with Lucky and Nadia led him back to reception.
***
“Do you believe him, Nadia?”
“Not all of it. I doubt breaking the rules upsets his lordship as much as he would have us think it does. But I don’t think he attacked Eileen.”
“Neither do I. And I don’t think he’d have been far enough through his programme to be permitted off the grounds when the first two women were murdered.”
“Agreed. He’s an arse, but not a murderer.”
***
Felix was angry at being kept waiting in this smelly little room for so long, especially when the PC at the door wouldn’t even chat. When Colin and Nadia walked in, he asked for a bottle of water and a bag of cheese and onion crisps. He was pleased when the PC was dispatched to fetch the order.
While they were waiting for the PC to return, Nadia explained to Felix that he was there voluntarily, to help them with their enquiries. He was not under arrest, and free to leave at any time. She watched Felix stand up and smiled as Colin spoke.
“Of course, if you were unwilling to assist us and left without doing so, that might change our view of you and your importance to the case.”
Felix sat down. He scowled. “What case are we talking about? It’s not that misunderstanding in Ibiza is it. The police never did serve their warrant. At least I’ve not seen it.”
“We may chat about that, but no.” Colin turned when he heard the PC come back into the room. She deposited the water and crisps onto the table and resumed her place at the door. Colin said that the interview would be recorded orally and visually and introduced all the people in the room.
“Now,” Nadia began. “Sir Felix, you are here to assist us about the attack that occurred in the Waldorf Astoria Hotel. Have you ever been there, or dined, at The Pompadour Restaurant?”
“I’ve never stayed at the hotel, but I’ve been there often enough, weddings, business meetings, social events. You know the kind of thing. And I adore The Pompadour. The food is exquisite and the service outstanding. I highly recommend it.”
“When did you last visit The Pompadour?” Nadia asked.
“Too long ago.”
“Could you be more specific?”
“A couple of months maybe. I like it best when someone else is paying and with Lucky being in rehab recently, he’s not been about to share the load. You know the kind of thing.”
“I’m not sure that I do,” Nadia said. “Were you there the evening Eileen Maguire was attacked?”
“Not at all. I heard about it. One reads about these kinds of things in the paper and so on, but no, I wasn’t there that night. Apparently one of the lifts was out of use for hours. That must have been irritating for the guests.”
“Worse for the woman who was attacked, I suspect.” Nadia breathed in deeply. This guy was unreal. She was desperately trying to control herself sufficiently so that she didn’t sound unprofessional. But he was the living end. “Where were you then, that night?”
“I can’t quite remember. Probably playing a gig. I do a lot of DJing, you know. Getting to be quite the international traveller for that.”
“I’m not sure one gig in Ibiza qualifies for such extravagant claims. But if you don’t know where you were, how can you be so sure that you weren’t at the Waldorf Astoria?”
“Because I hadn’t been there for such a long time. If you gave me my phone, I could check my calendar.”
“Don’t worry. We’ll check.”
“Where did you stay when Lord Buchanan was in rehab?” Colin asked.
“Just at his estate. He needed me to oversee things for him.”
“Did he pay you a fee for that service?”
“Why? A small retainer, I suppose. Just to keep things above board, you know the kind of thing.”
“The reason I ask is that you mentioned you prefer to go for expensive meals when someone else is paying,” Colin said. “I just wondered if you had any financial problems we should know about.”
“Not at all. Not at all.”
“It’s just that when we checked your bank accounts it seemed Lucky was paying you two thousand pounds a week, for precious little work. Why would he do that?” Nadia asked.
“As I say, to keep himself right with the accountants.”
“Hmm.” Nadia looked across at him. “Sir Felix, you had much larger sums going out to an account that we have traced to the name of Arjun Mansoor. It took you over your overdraft limit on several occasions and the funds from Lucky just pulled you back.”
“How do you know Mr Mansoor?” Colin asked. “He is certainly not genteel company, and almost always bad news.”
“Unless we must, I’d rather not discuss Mr Mansoor. Can I get out for a ciggie? We’ve been here ages.”
“No reason why not. DC Chan will accompany you. There’s no smoking in the building, but she can go with you to the car park.”
***
When the interview recommenced, Colin started by asking Felix about his gig in Ibiza. “Why did you initially say you had been there for just under a week? We’ve found out that you were there for less than twenty-four hours.”
“Well that’s less than a week.”
“Come on, Felix.”
“That’s Sir Felix to you.”
“Really? Fine. Sir Felix, the Spanish police have told us that you left the island almost immediately after your gig to avoid being questioned about an attack on a young woman who attended the event.”
“Nonsense. It was all a misunderstanding. She gave me the nod and then backed off. Little tart.”
“But you didn’t tell us any of this,” Colin said.
“Well, it’s not relevant, is it? Nothing came of it.”
“Sir Felix, can’t you see that an accusation of violence against a young woman is extremely relevant when we are investigating a similar attack?” Nadia almost growled her question.
“No. The Spanish girl was talking bollocks, and I wasn’t at the Waldorf Astoria. None of it is relevant, and none of it is your business.”
“Let’s move on,” Colin said. “A house was broken into on West Mains Road a night or two ago. Your fingerprints were found at the scene. Can you tell us how they got there, please?”
“Where was this?” Felix asked. He blushed a deep red to the roots of his hair.
“A semi-detached house in West Mains Road.”
“Gosh, not really my kind of place I’m afraid. There must be some mistake.”
“I don’t doubt it, and you made it when you left your prints.” Nadia paused, then looked at Colin before she continued to speak. “I think it has something to do with Arjun Mansoor and the reason why you didn’t want to talk about him. How close to the truth am I?”
“Too close. I
suppose I might as well tell you because Arjun will daub me in it anyway.”
“True.”
“He pretty much runs the drug supply in Edinburgh now. Has done for a while.”
“Carry on, Sir Felix.”
“I got a bit behind on my payments to him. I take a couple of lines of coke to jolly myself up when I’m running a gig.” He looked at the detectives’ expressionless faces and took a deep breath before he continued. “He told me I could work it off by selling to punters at gigs.”
“Be careful, Sir Felix. You have just admitted to supplying a class A drug. Do you want a lawyer?”
“I suppose it might be best.”
“I think it would.”
“Could I have another bottle of water and time out for a fag too?”
“Yes, we’ll arrange that,” Colin said. “We’ll have to hold you in the cells until your brief gets here. Do you want a sandwich or something?”
“Yes, please. I like beef and horseradish.”
“It’s more likely to be plastic ham and soggy salad,” Nadia said.
Colin suspended the interview and asked the PC to take Sir Felix to the cells. “Will you arrange for someone to take Lucky home, Nadia? There’s going to be a long wait, and we might as well get him home. By the way, Sir Felix, which ankle did you twist running for your flight home from Ibiza?”
“My right ankle. Bloody sore it was too.”
Hunter was surprised to see Colin and Nadia wander into the incident room. He followed them in and asked how their interviews with Lucky and Felix had gone.
“Lucky is an arse, but probably not a murderer, boss. The distance and timing just don’t add up,” Colin said.
“And he couldn’t go running in clothes suitable to dine at the Pompadour. Neither would he gain entrance to the dining room in the evening dressed in running gear. It doesn’t add up,” Nadia added. “He is an unpleasant man, but not our murderer. Colin, would you like a tea or coffee?”
“No, I’ve got a bottle of water here. I think I’ll take this break as time for lunch.”
“What’s Maggie made you today?”
“Never mind what’s in the bloody sandwiches. How did the interview with Felix go?”
“We’ve had to suspend it, boss. He’s asked for a brief. In fact, I suggested he get a lawyer. He all but confessed to dealing drugs as an agent for Arjun Mansoor.”
“Perfectly possible, Colin. That man has form.”
“Yes, but I didn’t want him to spill his guts without having the opportunity of legal advice.”
“I’d have let him daub himself in it. Weasel of a man, he is,” Bear said. “If you’re making yourself a tea, Nadia, could I get a coffee?”
“And what did your last slave die of?”
“Hard work.” Bear grinned.
Nadia shook her head. “You are too predictable, Bear.” She laughed and spooned the brown grit into his mug.
“I think you and Nadia have done the right thing, Colin.”
“I got a uniform to take Lucky back to the estate and another is getting Felix a sandwich. I think this could go on for a while.”
“Did Felix say how he and Mansoor are connected?”
“Drugs and money. Mansoor’s usual interests.”
“Okay, keep me posted. Has anybody seen Oskar?”
“Here, Hunter. How may I help?”
“Come through. Let’s have a chat. And Tim and Bear, I’d like you to go through all the statements for this murder case and the attack on Eileen. I want you to work out which of our suspects could have possibly committed all three crimes.”
“But we don’t know exactly when the murders were committed, boss. We just know when the bodies were found,” Tim said.
“No, but the post-mortem reports will give you a best guess as to date of death.”
“Nadia, that’s Felix’s brief here. Charlie just phoned from reception.”
“Okay, Colin. Let me finish my tea and we’ll go down.”
When Colin and Nadia walked into the interview room, they immediately recognised the lawyer. It was the same woman who had been into HMP Edinburgh the day they went to interview Mansoor.
She stood up as they walked towards her and shook hands. “Della Maclehose,” she said. “You must be DS Reid and DC Chan.”
The woman was taller than Colin remembered.
“Have you had time to take instructions from your client, Ms Maclehose?” Colin asked.
“Indeed I have, and Sir Felix will not be answering any further questions, but he has asked me to read a prepared statement. Shall I proceed?”
“Go ahead,” Nadia said. She sat back on her chair and stared at Felix throughout.
“I, Sir Felix Buchanan, residing at the Buchanan family estate with my cousin, Lord Lachlan Buchanan, was not present at the Pompadour Restaurant, nor any other part of the Waldorf Astoria Hotel, the night Eileen Maguire was attacked. I was not involved in that assault.
“I have had financial problems that result from my addiction to cocaine and use of marijuana supplied to me by agents of Arjun Mansoor. My debt was allowed to grow, and then suddenly the whole balance was demanded, failing which, I was informed I would be required to pay double the amount outstanding, which I did not have. The alternatives offered to me were threats of grievous bodily harm or the requirement to carry out favours for Mr Mansoor’s associates. I chose to carry out the favours because I did not want to be regularly assaulted.
“The favours demanded of me were to carry cocaine to gigs at which I was DJing because I would not be searched and give them to Mansoor’s dealers in return for envelopes of cash. I gained no financial advantage from these transactions and was required to deliver the envelopes to Mr Mansoor’s trusted assistants, unopened.
“One of these assistants was Mr Morrison of West Mains Road. I arrived at his house where I required to deliver the envelopes from gigs. When I got there, I found the front door was opened, and I went in. I shouted to make my presence known, but there was no reply. The house was empty.
“Lots of things had been trashed, and the carpet in the dining room was slashed. I looked at the hole and found a black box beside a safe under the floorboards. The safe had been broken, and any contents removed. The floor was wet, but I do not know what had been spilt. I heard the owners coming in and cursing at the open door. I fled out of the back door, jumped over the back garden wall, and ran away because I did not want to be blamed for a burglary that I didn’t commit.
“I have since taken the envelopes to Mr Morrison. He was very angry with me because he received them later than he expected. I know nothing more about the attack on Ms Maguire or the break-in at the Morrisons’ home.”
Della Maclehose looked up from her notebook. “My client is willing to sign this statement, after which, I suggest arrangements be made to take him home. Don’t you agree, detectives?”
“Sign it,” Colin said. “Then, Ms Maclehose, we’ll charge your client with supply of class A drugs, namely cocaine, release him on bail and get him home. But Felix.”
“Sir Felix,” Della said.
“Sir Felix, if we subsequently find you have omitted anything, I will throw the book at you. Do you understand?”
Della looked at her client. Colin noticed that he stared straight at her when he agreed to his terms.
“Fine. Let’s wrap this up.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Jamie was awoken, not by the usual squeals and giggles coming from the twins’ bedroom, nor by Princess Leia licking his face, but by a hammer working a ‘For Sale’ sign into the front garden of the house next door. Great, he thought. He told Linda about the development and that he planned to get their bid in today, then he looked at the board. Who the hell gets an estate agent in North Berwick for a house in the middle of Edinburgh? Not his problem. It wouldn’t make any difference to the success of his offer.
Linda got up. “Jamie, I’m off for a shower. I want to be ready for Eileen because today is the
day Eileen will meet the guide dog that had been assigned to her. I’m worried.”
“Why?”
“Eileen had always preferred cats, and I can’t help wondering how she, or her daft cat, Princess Leia, will take to a dog in the mix. I’m also wondering how Eileen got to the top of the guide dog list so fast. I know so many people are waiting for a dog.”
“I might know something about that, but it’s not my secret to tell. You enjoy your shower and I’m going to phone Pop.”
The phone rang out. Bugger, Pop must have a new number. Jamie thought. He didn’t stop to think that his pop shouldn’t have a phone at all. He was irritated that he couldn’t get hold of Ian immediately. He’d have to wait until his pop phoned him. It wouldn’t be long, he knew that.
Jamie dressed quickly, went down to the kitchen, and put the kettle on. He wandered into the glass porch at the front of the house and watched the estate agent as he took photos and then rang the doorbell. He was surprised when Mrs Morrison opened the door and kissed the man. A bit forward, Jamie thought.
He heard the kettle finish boiling and went to make his cuppa, then took his brew back to the porch. The estate agent reversed a black van into the driveway. Jamie saw him glance in his direction and frown. Then his phone rang. It was an unknown number. Pop.
“New phone?” Jamie asked.
“Hello. How are you would have been a nicer greeting, lad.”
“Aye. Probably. Look, Pop, the Morrisons’ is up for sale.”
“Text me the name and number of the agent.”
“There’s something odd happening. I’ll send that to you, but I’ve got to go. I’m window hinging.”
Jamie hung up but sent the text his pop needed. What was going on? The estate agent was moving a whole lot of stuff from the house. Why? What? He saw glass bottles, but he couldn’t made out the contents. Then the boxes. What was in the boxes? What was that? Flasks? What the hell. The estate agent continued to move things out of the house and into the back of the van. He kissed Mrs Morrison on the cheek and shook Mr Morrison’s hand as they closed up the van together.
It was then that Mr Morrison patted the back door of the van. Jamie watched his face. He read his lips; Morrison said Mansoor. Then the homeowner jumped into the van too.
