by Val Penny
Oskar explained that Mr Morrison and his wife were helping with enquiries and not under arrest. They were not under any obligation to stay but their assistance was appreciated. He stated that the interview would be recorded visually and audibly and introduced those in the room for the benefit of the tape.
Oskar was interested by Mr Morrison. Although he was in his late forties, he remained in better shape than most of his contemporaries and still worked as an optician for Vision-Savers.
“When did you decide to become an optician, Mr Morrison?” Mel asked.
“When I did rubbish in my Highers and couldn’t be a doctor. You’d be surprised how many opticians, nurses and pharmacists did the same.”
“Rather different careers to make such a generalised statement, I would think.”
“No. A bit like you becoming a copper when you failed the physical to be a fire officer.”
“I never wanted to be a fire officer, thank you,” Mel said. Then she bit her lip as she saw that Morrison had got the rise out of her that he wanted.
“I’m new to the city,” Oskar said. “I understand you count a Mr Arjun Mansoor amongst your family friends. How did you meet Mr Mansoor?”
“He was one of my patients and took an interest in all the tests I had to perform. We often discussed eyes, sight, and blindness.”
“But it became more than that?”
“Yes. He knows my nephew, John, and became a family friend when we discovered the connection.”
“He has been in jail several years now and you visit him more often than his wife does. Isn’t that a little strange?”
“I help him keep his business running. Sometimes my visits are business-related. Other times, social. I don’t know about his wife.”
“Would that be his drug dealing business you assist with?” Oskar asked.
“Good grief, I don’t think so.”
“But you know that’s what he’s in jail for?” Mel asked.
“Look, dear, I just collect funds from his associates count their takings, and then get the money to his wife, and she banks it. I’m doing my best for a friend who has fallen on hard times. That’s all.”
“Did Mansoor ever express an interest in different colours of eyes?”
“Oh yes, and how that occurred. He’s an intelligent man with an enquiring mind. Most interesting company.”
***
Mrs Morrison confirmed all her husband had said but stated that she had never met Mr Mansoor, and expressed irritation that he used their third bedroom to keep the financial records for his business.
“I think we’ll need to see those,” Oskar said.
“Help yourself. I have no idea what’s there, but himself keeps it in an awful guddle and won’t even let me in to dust and polish.” She looked angrily at her husband. “Keeps saying he’ll do it himself. That’s a laugh, and I don’t think. I’d be glad to see the back of it all. Nothing but trouble, Arjun is.”
“Do you know what was in the safe under the dining room floor, Mrs Morrison?”
“Some of my precious jewellery but one of your lot said there was liquid that had leaked out of something. God alone knows what that was. Gold don’t leak.”
***
Colin and Nadia sat in the living room with Mrs Mansoor while the uniforms implemented the warrant and searched the flat.
Colin looked around at the plush décor and Indian carpets. This home had not been furnished on the cheap. The little woman in the chair opposite him was sitting calmly. She held her hands together, her eyes were closed her eyes, and she was breathing deeply, as if to keep out the stress.
“Mrs Mansoor, is there anything that you think we should know about? Anything we might find that you could explain in advance?” Nadia asked.
The woman didn’t move.
“I hope she’s not dead,” Nadia whispered to Colin.
“No, she is not dead, but neither does she want to answer any questions. She does not have to.”
“No, you don’t, Mrs Mansoor. But you might be able to help us,” Colin said.
“And why would she want to do that? Her husband has been in jail for many years and will be for many more.”
“DS Reid, could you come here?”
Colin rose and followed the PC while Nadia sat and watched the other woman close her eyes again and breathe deeply.
“We’ve found this black box. It was hidden at the bottom of the child’s toy box along with these envelopes. The envelopes are full of money and each one has initials and a total written on it. We’re getting those counted and bagged now but we can’t get this black metal box open.”
Colin took the box. “Yuck, it’s all wet. It must have leaked from that top, because it’s metal, the sides couldn’t leak.”
“That’s what I thought. My guess is something inside has broken, but we can’t find a key to get into that.”
“I’ll ask Mrs Mansoor.”
It wasn’t long before Colin was back. “She wants to see the box. I’ll take it.” He carried the black, metal box into the living room. “This is it, Mrs Mansoor. Do you know where the key is?”
“Arjun will be most displeased if things are broken. He is a most particular man.”
“What’s in the box, Mrs Mansoor?”
“That, I do not know. Indeed, I do not.”
“How do we open it?”
“Carefully,” she said. She closed her eyes, joined her hands, and breathed deeply again.
“We found envelopes full of money, too. Why were they in your son’s toy box?”
“I know nothing of this.”
“It’s no use. Just label it all, and we’ll get the box open at the station,” Nadia said.
“I do not think Mr Mansoor will want you to remove his money or that box from his home.”
“That’s too bad about the money. But about the box, how can you be so sure, if you don’t know what’s in it?” Nadia asked.
“I know Arjun.”
***
Rachael was beginning to enjoy her role as victim support officer, especially today when she was back at the hospital with Eileen.
“I only met Rory yesterday,” Eileen said. “Already I know just where to tickle him behind his ears to please him. Look!”
“My goodness. Yes, he’s certainly enjoying that. What a lovely coat he has. May I pat him?”
“Best not,” said Noah. “I’m trying to get him used to Eileen just now, before they start training together.”
“No problem. How are you feeling today, Eileen?”
“A little more confident than yesterday. I washed and dressed myself today, and brushed my own hair. I had to do it all by feel. What do you think?”
“I think you did well. You look great, and you seem to me to be happier.”
“When you and Rory have finished your time together, shall we go downstairs to the canteen for lunch?”
“I’m not sure I’m ready for that.”
“I’ll tell you what,” said Noah, “how about you put on some dark glasses? That’s for other people rather than for you. Then we can all go to the canteen together. You ladies have your lunch, Rory and I will sit with you, and you’ll find that everybody will come up and pay attention to Rory. They won’t worry about you, Eileen. Trust me, I’ve seen it hundreds of times.”
“Yes, let’s try that.” Eileen said. “I’ll hold your arm, Rachael, and take my stick. Oh God, my heart is pounding, but I must start somewhere.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
“You’ll be glad to see the back of us, cuz,” Jamie said to Frankie.
“Don’t think I’m going to say no to that, cos I won’t.”
“I don’t suppose I could get my bed and a couple of comfy chairs out the house, could I?”
“You’re right, you couldn’t. That’s mine, and I’ll need it as the girls get bigger, and when Harry comes home and the like. There might even be a little Donna sometime. God, I hope it looks like her and not like me.”
“Amen to that.”
“Fuck off. But I’ll give you a hand moving your stuff out of here if you like.”
“It’s good that neither of us has to have a mortgage, eh?”
“Aye well, me pop had to die, and yours had to go into the clink to make it happen, but always look on the bright side, Jamie.”
“Isn’t there a song about that?”
“Fucksake, don’t sing.”
“What the hell’s that? Oh, look. The Morrisons are moving out. Maybe you’ll get your keys sooner. That’d be good.”
“Here’s your hat. What’s your hurry? I’m beginning to feel unwanted.”
“You don’t have a hat, just a balaclava, and it never bodes well when you wear that.”
“Piss off. Let’s get over to the showroom. Is Donna taking the girls to nursery?”
“Aye. She’ll see us there. Gosh, that removal man’s got awfy fancy hair for the job.”
“Must be moonlighting,” Jamie said. “Look, there’s the estate agent. Wonder what he wants.”
“Mrs Morrison said he’s their nephew, so maybe he’s brought them the keys to their new house rather than them having to go to the shop.”
“How do you know all that?”
“She’s a neighbour, We pass the time of day. I’m polite.”
“She doesn’t pass anything to me, the old battle axe.”
“And you’re not polite. So there.” Frankie shoved his cousin out of the porch and locked the door behind them.
Jamie watched the removers for a moment and noticed that the one with the fancy hair carried lighter unbreakable things like dining chairs and bedside tables.
“He’s definitely moonlighting. I wonder what he really does.”
“None of our business, Jamie. Just drive.”
***
Jamie would have been particularly pleased with himself if he had known just how correct his guess was. Marco McDonald was a waiter at the Pompadour most days, but since the breakup of his marriage to Lucinda, he had to support two homes. That wasn’t easy on a waiter’s salary. That’s why, whenever Burghmuir Removals needed him, he took a shift. It wasn’t the best money in the world, but it was cash in hand, so the Child Support Agency didn’t know about it. Usually the grateful homeowners provided food and drinks and a cash tip to each of the lads. All good. Marco jumped down off the van to get another load from the house.
He passed Mr Morrison on the stairs. “Sorry, boss,” he said. He stood to the side to let the man pass. Marco frowned. He’d seen that bloke somewhere before. Where was it?
“Marco, get a bloody move on,” the gaffer shouted.
“Aye, will do.” He ran up the stairs two at a time. Where had he seen the owner before? Then he remembered. He worked in his local chemist. No, the new chemist was younger. He’d keep thinking. He picked up a small bookcase and carried it down the stairs.
“It was right nice of you to come all this way to bring us our keys, Hector,” Mrs Morrison said. She stood in the living room with her nephew and watched the house empty around her. “It’ll be good to be back in Tranent nearer to your mother. Of course, himself’ll have further to drive to work, but them’s the breaks.”
“No problem at all. And you know Mum’s expecting you for your tea tonight, don’t you? You’ll no’ feel like cooking after a heavy day lifting and carrying.”
“She’ll no’ be doing any lifting or carrying, lad. She’ll be supervising and making tea,” his uncle complained.
Marco went into the living room to speak to the woman. “You’ve forgotten to clear out the fitted wardrobe in the smallest bedroom. It’s all full o’ papers.”
“Bugger, that’s Arjun’s rubbish. Do we have to take that?” she asked, looking at her husband.
“Not if you don’t mind telling him why we didn’t.”
“Look, the gaffer usually charges twenty pounds extra to clear stuff, but how’s about you give me a tenner and I’ll find a box to put it in and you can decide what to do with it later?”
“That’s right good of you, son. Give him a tenner,” she commanded her husband.
“I ain’t got no cash. We paid in advance.”
Hector took a tenner out of his wallet and gave it to Marco. “Thanks, mate,” he said. Then he took another fifty pounds in ten pound notes out of his wallet. “Give each of the guys a tip when they’re done.”
“Will do, Hector. He’s an old skinflint, your uncle is.”
Marco pocketed the money and frowned. He knew the younger one too. Where had he come across him? Of course, if he sold houses, it could be at another removal.
“Marco, get a fucking shift on,” the gaffer shouted.
He picked up a box and raced back up the stairs to empty the forgotten cupboard.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Nadia looked at Colin. “Bloody hell, sarge. Does it have to be you and I that are on mugshot duty again?”
“No, it’s you and me. Aren’t we the lucky ones?”
“How come we have to do it?”
“The boss wants someone to go back with the mugshots of those that are still in the frame.”
“Who’s that then?”
“Felix, Hector, and that Morrison fellow who lives next door to Jamie.”
“Since when did he come into the mix?”
“Since his house was burgled and…”
“Well, if you ask me, it will make things a whole lot easier if the boss had kept his own rule and never been off duty, rather than mooning over Meera and her engagement ring.”
“I didn’t ask you, Nadia. Shall we sit and grumble or do our job?”
They started in the bar. One member of staff recognised Felix, but then disappointed the detectives by saying that he had been in last night. The girl remembered this because he and his friend had gone over to another table where they knew the people, but there had been a bit of a disagreement. His company was not wanted. She did know he had been in before but when he was booking a table he used different names, arrived with a different woman each time and she remembered that he paid cash. That was unusual for their guests. Usually the meals were paid by card or put on the guests’ room. She couldn’t tell Colin who had paid for the meal yesterday. She had been in the bar and only looked in briefly during the disagreement. It had been loud.
Colin thanked her for her help and he and Nadia walked towards the restaurant.
“He pays in cash. Didn’t that waiter tell us Eileen’s date had done that?” Nadia said.
“And he uses different names. Felix, Frederick,” Colin said.
The first two members of staff they spoke to hadn’t been on duty either last night or the night of Eileen’s assault. The maître d’ wasn’t in yet because he normally worked the dinner service, and the restaurant manager on duty earlier hadn’t been in at the times in question either.
“I am rapidly losing the will to live,” Nadia said.
The manager turned back to them. “I see Marco was working last night,” she said. “Do you want me to ask him to come through and speak to you?”
“Yes, please. That would be most helpful,” Colin replied. “Gosh, look at that head of hair, I’m getting hair envy.”
“Hmm, it is receding a bit, isn’t it?”
“Shut up, Nadia.”
“You coppers? Why you looking for me?” Marco asked.
“We’re hoping you might be able to help us,” Colin said. “Your manager said you were working here last night.”
“She talks too much.”
“Do you recognise this man?” Nadia showed him the photo of Mr Morrison. She was surprised when he nodded. “Do you, really?”
“Yes, I said so.” Then Marco lowered his voice. “Don’t tell them here, but I’ve got another job.”
“What do you do in this other job?” Colin asked.
“I work with Burghmuir Removals. I was working for this man all day yesterday. I was knackered by the time I’d finished with that, then I worked here last
night”
“What’s the man’s name?”
“Mr Morrison. That’s all I know. But his hair’s darker than that. Grecian 2000, I think.” Marco laughed. “And he’s let his beard grow a bit. I think he’s trying to be trendy, but those days are long behind him.”
“Has he ever eaten here?”
“Possibly. I know him from somewhere else apart from yesterday, but I just can’t place him. It’s been irritating me. I think he’s a professional, and there’s a new pharmacist at my local chemist. At first I thought it might be him, but it’s not. It might be here, I suppose. No, wait, I do know him. He’s the optician in the shop near my flat. I have a new flat since I left my wife.” Nadia made a note of his reply. She handed him a card. “Phone me if you remember anything else. Now, what about this man?” She showed him a photo of Hector.
“He’s sound. I like him. He made sure Morrison had enough cash to pay us all a good tip. He knows what makes the world go round.”
“Has he ever been into the restaurant?” Colin asked.
“Yes, but it was a while ago that I served him. I remember he dined with two women and a man who looked like a fat version of himself. It was funny. The men were clearly trying to impress the women and going on about darling this, and love that. I remember he paid cash and left a big tip. Just the kind of guest I like.”
“What’s his name?”
“I’m sorry, I don’t remember. Someone who served him more recently would probably recall, but I don’t. I do remember he liked guest menus for the other people at his table. He was most particular about that.”
“Has he ever been in for dinner alone with a young lady?”
“I’m sure he has, but that’s the only time I served at his table. They keep us busy, so I don’t have time to clock all the guests.”
“What about this man?” Nadia showed Marco the picture of Felix.
“Is that Sir Felix Buchanan? I hadn’t seen him for a while, but he’s a pain. He books his tables in different names, but we must remember them and make out like we know him. He comes in with all different women, but we must pretend this is the only one. It’s darling this and that. Just like the other guy. I’m amazed the women don’t see through these men and run away.”
