Hunter's Revenge

by Val Penny

  “I’m fine, keeping my head down, Ailsa. Don’t worry about me.”

  “I’ll get us coffee from the vending machine. You want a Kit-kat, Dad?” Tim got up without waiting for a reply.

  When Tim returned to the table, he found his sister listening patiently to their father’s grumbles about life behind bars. He noticed Ailsa’s eyes had glazed over, and knew the conversation had been all about their father. Prisoners are, to a man, self-absorbed and self-obsessed. Tim had forgotten to warn Ailsa about that

  “Ailsa, have you told Dad your good news?” Tim said to change the subject.

  “Not yet, I’ve been hearing Dad’s news,” she said. “I’m moving, Dad. I have a new job in A & E at Edinburgh Royal Infirmary. I’ll be moving up here in a couple of months, so Tim won’t be rattling about in your huge home all on his own.”

  “That’s good. But he’s not on his own; Kenneth and Alice live in anyway.”

  “Having staff is not the same as having company, Dad,” Tim said.

  “You have Lucy.”

  “Lucy is a cat, Dad. It will be lovely to have Ailsa around in Edinburgh again.”

  “Talking about staff, Ian Thomson has been taking good care of me here. I only got tripped up in the gym once yesterday.”

  “Good to know,” Tim smiled.

  “I hope you’re looking after his boy, Jamie?”

  “The force is looking out for him. Dad, have you heard anything about a new supply of cocaine coming in here?”

  “I’m in counselling. I don’t use any more.”

  “I understand that, but have you heard anything?”

  “As far as I know, all drugs, including cocaine, that come into the prison run through Arjun and his heavies. He is the drug lord in here. I keep away. It’s easier.”

  “Of course. But how does he get supplies?”

  “It’s delivered to him, but I don’t know how it’s done because he hardly has any visitors except for his wife, her brother and his lawyer. Oh, and I heard Lenny The Lizard Pratt came in to see him. That’s got trouble written all over it.”

  “Well, it isn’t unheard of for any of those kinds of contacts to make the drops,” Tim said.

  “Ah, but he’s not just supplying the jail. He’s working the city from here, son. Mansoor has a team on the outside dancing to his tune.”

  “Do you know who’s in charge of that?”

  “He calls him Bill,” Sir Peter Myerscough whispered.

  “Bill? Thanks, Dad. I’ll see what more I can find out.”

  ***

  Tim stopped by to speak to the prison governor, Elliott Smith. He was keen to tell the governor what he had learned from his father.

  Mr Smith greeted Tim near the gate and took him up to his office through the front door. Tim reflected how much nicer it would be to visit the prison this way every time he came. As he took a seat opposite Mr Smith, he was amazed that such a short, skinny little man should be in charge of so many dangerous prisoners. He looked down at his hands and noticed he was sweating.

  He spoke softly to explain. “My father does want to atone for his crime. He is most repentant.”

  The governor smiled. “Everybody in here is either not guilty, set-up or repentant, DC Myerscough. Nobody likes getting caught.”

  “I suppose that’s true,” Tim said.

  “We know that Arjun Mansoor is the ringleader of the drugs gang, and I believe he organises most of the distribution, certainly of cocaine, throughout Edinburgh, even from here. We have not managed to catch him in the act or find his phone, but he must have access to at least one unauthorised mobile phone.” The governor shook his head.

  “He is a very slippery character,” Tim agreed.

  “And a very persuasive one. He’s good at getting the weaker and more vulnerable people to do what he wants of them. He uses a mixture of threats and promises.”

  “I know.”

  “Everything comes to a stop when he is in solitary, but unfortunately we cannot justify keeping him in solitary all the time. Human rights and all that, DC Myerscough.”

  “No of course, I understand that. I’m told that Mansoor has very few visitors apart from his wife, her brother and his lawyer.”

  “That’s true. His Iraqi Consul has been in to see him once. Mansoor has dual nationality. Apart from that, his only visitors are his wife, and, more recently, his lawyer, his brother-in-law and an old family friend.”

  “I take it they were all subject to the usual searches?”

  “More thorough than most, I assure you. Of course the lawyer is exempt, but he is well known to us and represents many different clients without issue. Donald Blair, his name is. Very well respected.”

  “Of course. Thank you, I will inform my boss.” Tim got up to leave.

  “I was sorry to hear about old George Reinbold’s death. He was a fine gentleman.”

  “Yes, that he was. He and his expertise will be much missed.”

  ***

  Waiting in the car, Ailsa wept. Seeing her father in prison had hit her hard. She remembered fondly the confident, larger-than-life character he had been.

  She thought about how much he had enjoyed the kudos of being married to Louise Wills, the tobacco heiress. He had revelled in being the powerful Chief Constable of Lothian & Borders Police, and he had delighted in accepting the role of Justice Secretary after he was elected to the Scottish Parliament.

  Never for a moment had she thought her father had needed the crutch of cocaine to get through life after her mother died. Then, of course, addiction was followed by blackmail and fraud. What an unholy mess!

  ***

  “I’ve invited Bear and Mel to join us for dinner tonight,” Tim told Ailsa when they got home. He lifted her suitcase out of the car.

  “Good, it’s too long since I’ve seen Bear. When is he going to make an honest woman of Mel? They’ve been together for years now.”

  “And I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve also invited Gillian Pearson, the interpreter who is working with us on a case.”

  “No problem, you’ve talked about her so much, it’ll be nice to meet her. It’s good to know you’re dating again.”

  Tim blushed. “It’s not exactly dating; just a bite of dinner with friends.”

  “Yes, right. And I believe you. What are we having to eat, anyway?”

  “Alice is cooking, so we’re having her special.”

  “Lentil soup, Beef Wellington and Eve’s Pudding with custard,” Ailsa laughed.

  “Young Miss Ailsa, how good to have you home,” Kenneth said as he opened the door of the house.

  “Kenneth, lovely to see you.” Ailsa smiled broadly and gave the butler a hug. “And darling Lucy.” Ailsa picked up the elegant Persian Blue cat and nuzzled her face into the creature’s beautiful coat. “You must be loving having your man to yourself, Lucy,” Ailsa said as she carefully replaced Lucy onto the carpet.

  The cat immediately wound her body around Tim’s legs and purred loudly, rubbing her neck against his calves and marking him with her scent to show that he was her person.

  “Yes, you better watch your step, or I’ll tell Lucy on you, Sis,” Tim joked.

  “Now I am going to have a shower and get changed before your guests arrive. I don’t want to let my big brother down.”

  “Are you going to need Alice and me this evening, Master Timothy?” Kenneth asked Tim.

  “No, thank you, Kenneth, I just have a phone call to make before I get ready for my visitors.”

  “The dining table is set and the house is ready for your guests. Check the rooms and let Alice or me know if you need anything else done.”

  “Thank you, Kenneth.” Tim went into his father’s office and called Hunter to inform the DI of the information he had gathered from his father and from Elliott Smith.

  “And your dad says Mansoor calls his contact on the outside, Bill? That’s new, thanks Tim. Rachael’s florist identified the customer who commissioned the special wreath to
o, and I was right, he has contacted her to say the funeral has been postponed.”

  “Has it even been arranged, Boss?”

  “No, a curious lie. Still, at least we are making progress. Anyway, you have a good evening.”

  “You too, Sir,”

  “Darts match at The Persevere Bar tonight. We are taking on an East Lothian team, they have beaten us the last three times we’ve played, so this is a real grudge match,” Hunter chuckled.

  “Good luck, Sir.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Hunter was in the incident room staring at a photograph. When Tim opened the door, Hunter barely looked up.

  “Ah, young Myerscough, there you are. Who is this man?”

  The question made Tim glance at his watch to check if he was late. It was thirty-four minutes till his shift started. One day he would be in the office before the boss, but not today. Tim sometimes wondered if Hunter slept there when he was working on an important case.

  He walked over to Hunter and picked up the picture. He shook his head and was about to put the photograph back on the desk, when he took a second look.

  “Goodness, Boss, isn’t that the guy Hadi Akram? The one who took ill at the airport with all those baggies of cocaine on his body? He’s still in the Western General Hospital, isn’t he, Sir? What made you take his picture?”

  “I didn’t. This is the photo Colin and Nadia produced from the Volvo’s drive north.”

  “Really? So our mule is the driver?”

  “It looks like it.”

  “I don’t fancy his chances of a long life.”

  “Agreed. And it is strange, because the methods of transporting the drugs are too different in style. It’s as if he were working as a courier for two different bosses. So, I plan to go over to the hospital today to speak to Mr Akram. Want to join me, young Myerscough?”

  “Yes, I would. Thanks, Boss. By the way, how did the darts match go?”

  Hunter laughed. “We hope to break their winning streak next time.”

  ***

  Hunter and Tim arrived at the hospital to find The Lizard standing over Hadi Akram, screaming abuse at him.

  “Hello there, Lizard. Why are you shouting at my prisoner?” Hunter asked.

  “Your prisoner? My goodness, I must be in the wrong room.”

  “Please don’t tell me you thought this was your mother. That is not the kind of language anybody should use to their mother, not even you.”

  The Lizard smiled. “Don’t be ridiculous. My mother’s moustache is grey, not black.”

  “You’re a funny man, Lizard. But I understood Mr Akram does not speak or understand English. Do you know differently?”

  “No, as I say, I am in the wrong room. I'll just pop up and spend some time with my mother. The old girl is still quite poorly. Goodbye, detectives.”

  Hunter caught Tim’s eye and shook his head as Tim made to stop The Lizard from leaving. The Lizard watched warily as Tim stepped out of his way and took his chance to leave quickly.

  “Let’s speak to Mr Akram,” Hunter said to Tim before turning to the prisoner. “Mr Akram, now that I know you understand English, tell me why you are in this photo.”

  The man in the bed shrugged and looked away.

  Tim moved to the other side of the bed.

  “I have lots of pictures of you, Mr Akram,” Hunter continued. “In each of them you are driving an old blue Volvo, that I now know had a boot full of cocaine. You drove it all the way from Calais to Edinburgh Airport.”

  The man glanced at Hunter, then at Tim, then stared at the ceiling.

  “Mr Akram, you drove that car full of cocaine all the way from France, through England, to my city. You dropped the car in the airport car park. I don’t know yet which flight you took out of here, but I will find out. Believe me, I will find out, because you came back. You came back by plane, and this time, when you arrived here, you had a body full of that muck. There was so much of it in your system that you collapsed in the airport. You should be dead by now, and were it not for the excellent work of our doctors and nurses, you would be. Why should they bother with you, Mr Akram?”

  The man shrugged again and closed his eyes.

  “Let me put it this way, Mr Akram,” Hunter went on. “I don’t really care about you. In fact, I don’t care about you at all. I do care about who you are working for. Who is that?”

  The man shook his head.

  “Okay, let me tell you about the other people I care about. I care about the young woman who was found dead in the boot of the Volvo you were driving. And I care about the old man who was shot after he helped me jail Arjun Mansoor last year for drug trafficking. I care about those two innocent, murdered people – and I am going to get my revenge. If you won’t help me, I’ll take my revenge on you.”

  The terrified man stared silently at Hunter.

  “Tim, book him. Two counts of murder and one of drug trafficking.” Hunter turned his back.

  “No!” Akram shouted.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  The last fitting Jane and Rachael had for their wedding outfits was bad-tempered and loud. The serene surroundings of the wedding boutique were shattered by the women as they bickered and argued in such colourful language that it made the assistants in the shop blush.

  “I’m not sure whether Jane and Rachael are just having pre-wedding nerves or whether they are genuinely as furious as they sound,” Mel said to Sarah.

  “Have you never heard them have a full-on argument before?”

  “No. Never even a cross word,” Mel said. She looked concerned as she looked over at Sarah.

  “I’m surprised,” Sarah said.

  “No, I’ve never heard those two argue. The occasional meaningful glance, but certainly nothing like this.”

  Sarah looked at her with wide eyes. “Really?” she said. “They fight like cat and dog sometimes. Have you heard the way they shout at each other when they are out on a jog? Or when they go round an art gallery together and Jane is trying to study the paintings and Rache gets bored and makes childish comments? This is nothing.”

  “Let’s allow them get on with it, then. We’ll just try on our own things to make sure they fit,” Mel said.

  “Good idea, then we’ll just go and they can argue in private. I have to get back to work.”

  “Where do you nurse, Sarah?” Mel asked.

  “I work in the wards for care of the elderly. Usually Ward 51 or 52 at the Western.”

  “Oh, have you been nursing Mrs Pratt, then?”

  “Yes. Well, I did.”

  “Oh. Was she moved? Or did she not like you, or something?”

  “I have no idea whether she liked me or not. She died yesterday.”

  “I didn’t know that. Poor old girl,” Mel said.

  “It was very sudden. An aneurysm.”

  “The way to go.”

  Sarah nodded. “Given a choice, yes.”

  “Your dress is really pretty, Mel.”

  “The colour is lovely on you too.”

  “It is a flattering style. Is that us done then?”

  “Yes. I’ll go and tell Rache and Jane that we’re leaving.”

  Mel had become unaware of the racket the brides were making until Sarah came back and there was silence.

  ***

  Mel called Bear to tell him the fitting was over and she still liked her dress.

  “Oh, and Rachael’s sister was nursing Lenny The Lizard Pratt’s mother, but she died suddenly yesterday.”

  “I’m not sure the boss knows that. He saw The Lizard at the hospital when he was there with Tim, yesterday. I’m going to let him know. Speak later, babes.” After making sure nobody was listening, Bear blew her a kiss.

  ***

  “Dead?” Hunter asked Bear. “How did she die? When? She was alive when I spoke to her horrible piece of work of a son yesterday. He left us to go and spend time with her, he said.”

  “I don’t know; Mel just told me. She’d been sp
eaking to one of the nurses who said it was sudden, yesterday.”

  “Okay. I think I am going to need to have a word with our friend, The Lizard. Do you fancy a trip to The Bruce Hotel, Bear?”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  “Gentlemen, good afternoon,” Hunter greeted The Lizard and Merkel. “How fortuitous you are both here. Lizard, I was sorry to hear about the death of your poor old mother.”

  “How do you know about my mother? And who the hell is he?” Lenny The Lizard tossed his head towards Bear.

  “This is my colleague, DC Winston Zewedu,” Hunter replied sourly. “Back to your mother. The end was very sudden, I hear. When will the funeral be?”

  “Give me a chance, Inspector. Mum’s not been dead 24 hours.”

  “Of course. And what will your plans be after the funeral? Remember, you are on bail. You must keep yourself available, Lizard.”

  “I’m well aware of that, Inspector.”

  “And talking about funerals, Mr Merkel, why did you order a very expensive wreath for George Reinbold? You did do that, didn’t you? Why did you do that? The choice of petunias with yellow carnations around a copy of Winnie the Pooh was not very subtle. Now I want to know if you murdered our colleague. I think that is best discussed at the station,” Hunter said.

  “How on earth did you find out about the wreath? I paid cash! In your view, detective, I may be guilty of bad taste, but sending a few specially-chosen flowers and a book to a dead man does not make me guilty of murder.”

  “Paying cash is not foolproof, Mr Merkel. There are ways other than credit card payments that we can identify people.”

  “How could you track down that tiny, obscure shop? There are hundreds of places to buy flowers in this city. Did you ask them all?”

  “I think we will discuss this further at the station, don’t you?” Hunter said softly.

  “I hardly think that is necessary,” Merkel said.

  “Bear, escort Mr Merkel to the car, will you? See you soon, Lizard.” Hunter ignored Merkel’s protestations.

  “How did you know, Boss?” Bear whispered Hunter after Merkel was secured in the car. He was keen to know what Hunter had spotted that he had missed, but equally keen that Merkel did not hear them talk.