by Val Penny
“Just confirming the florist’s identification. It would either rule him in or out,” Hunter replied quietly. Then in a normal speaking voice he said, “Now, come on, Bear, let’s get back to the ranch.”
Back at the station, Hunter led the way into the stale-smelling interview room and stood to the side as he watched Bear and Merkel follow him. Merkel’s nose wrinkled as Hunter motioned him towards a blue plastic chair that was bolted to the floor next to the heavy metal table with the official recording equipment. Hunter began asking questions about George, Merkel’s father, and the limousine drive from the airport to the hotel. Merkel clearly felt uncomfortable, but declined to answer any of the questions put to him.
Hunter spent enough time with Merkel to know he did not like him. He had spent enough time questioning him to know the art dealer was hiding something, and he also knew he could not arrest this man for paying cash for an ornate funeral wreath. He could not arrest this man for taking a strange route to his hotel, nor could he arrest this man for taking a photo of George’s front door. Hunter had Bear drive Merkel back to the hotel. Hunter could not be sure that the art dealer was guilty of George’s murder, but he put ports and airports on notice so that he would know if the man tried to leave the country.
***
Jamie was pleased the customer came into the showroom. He recognised the man as the one who had asked to test-drive the Bentley. The one who was in that photo the cops showed him. Jamie stood up a little straighter and tried not to lean on his broken arm.
“Hello, again,” Jamie said.
“Good afternoon, young man. You have so many fine vehicles for sale, I have been tempted back.”
“Good, that’s right good. I’ll ask Frankie to come over to help you too.” Jamie had decided that any man whose photo was being shown around by the police probably wasn’t Santa Claus. Jamie wanted some back up, and Frankie was all he had.
“What’s up, Jamie? Oh,” said Frankie.
Jamie could tell that Frankie also recognised the man from the photos. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted that the man had caught the glance between himself and Frankie.
“So, I remember you had a run in the Bentley. Is there anything special you would like to take a look at today?” Jamie asked the man.
“Maybe I shall have a look here.” The man stepped towards the Porsche.
“It’s a bit different from the Bentley you drove last time you was in,” Jamie commented.
“I like all nice cars,” the man said, in a strange foreign accent.
Jamie was keen to make a good sale. He did not understand that this customer made Frankie feel uncomfortable. He was angry with Frankie when he spoke to the customer in a grumpy tone of voice.
“We’re not a car rental, you know. We sell these; you don’t just come and drive them for the hell of it.”
“I did not mean any offence. I am wanting to buy a car while I am here,” the man said.
“Calm down, Frankie. He didn’t mean anything by it, man,” Jamie whined, looking at the customer then glowering at Frankie.
“Well, I don’t like him. You do what you suits you,” Frankie said quietly. He turned on his heels and marched towards the office. He slammed the door.
“Look, I’m really sorry,” Jamie turned to his customer, only to see that he, too, was walking away.
Jamie was furious. Another possible sale lost. He marched into the office. “Frankie, you have been a real twat. I’m going to tell my pop you’re a wanker.”
“Say what you like, just remember you live in my house.”
“I will say what I like, because you work in my business.”
***
Hunter had never liked Sir Peter Myerscough. He didn’t like him when he stood in the way of Hunter’s promotion, and he didn’t like him when Sir Peter had an affair with Hunter’s sister-in-law and then dumped her. However, given what the prison governor had said about the cocaine flooding the prison, Hunter realised he could use an eye on the inside, and Tim’s father was the closest thing he had to a nark. He told Tim what he wanted to ask of his father, and Tim accepted that they should ask, but warned Hunter that he was not sure his father would agree.
“My dad is having a hard enough time in there as it is, Boss. If Ian Thomson didn’t look out for him, he’d be chopped liver. You know yourself that former cops aren’t overly popular in jail, so you can imagine that former Chief Constables are even less so.”
“I understand, young Myerscough, but I have to ask. He’s our best shot if he will agree to help us,” Hunter said.
Elliott Smith, the prison governor, arranged a private visit for Hunter and Tim when Hunter explained his thinking.
***
When Sir Peter walked in he raised his eyebrows at the sight of Hunter with Tim.
“I thought it was a bit too soon to have another social visit from you, Tim, and as you are both here, it must be business.”
“It is. Dad, we need your help.”
Hunter told Sir Peter about Akram and the two methods by which he smuggled cocaine into the country.
“It sounds to me that this man is working for two different traffickers,” Sir Peter said.
“I think so too,” Hunter agreed.
Hunter looked at his former Chief Constable. Prison was never a kind environment, but Sir Peter’s famous blond hair was quickly turning white. His blue eyes both bore the remnants of bad bruising, and the man did not hold himself as tall and erect as he had done once. However, he had lost a lot of the flab of middle-age that had settled around his belly. Hunter guessed that Sir Peter was making good use of the prison gym facilities and that he would leave the establishment healthier than he had entered it.
“No individual gang would use two such different types of transportation. Poor bugger isn’t going to last long if he’s working for two outfits anyway, is he? He must be in trouble up to his neck.”
“I agree.” Hunter nodded his head.
“So, what do you need from me, DI Wilson? I take it Tim is just here to persuade me to do the right thing by you?”
“No, Dad, I’m not, but it is important.”
“There are only three people who visit Mansoor regularly, and the governor knows Mansoor controls the prison supply of cocaine,” Hunter said.
Sir Peter nodded. “That was true for weeks, but in the last day or two he has been having more visitors than Waverley Station.”
“Really? Who’s been visiting Mansoor, then?”
“Well, apart from his wife, his brother-in-law and his lawyer Donald Blair, there was Lenny The Lizard Pratt, and some guy with a strange European accent. But, if you want my opinion—”
“Not really,” Hunter said flatly.
“Well, I’m giving it anyway,” Sir Peter said firmly. “My opinion is, you should enlist Ian Thomson. He knows everybody in here and most things that go on. I only get told what the prisoners, and the guards, trust me to know.”
“That’s not a bad idea, Boss,” Tim said. “Do you have the photos with you?”
“Yes,” Hunter tugged the photos out of his inside jacket pocket. “Sir Peter, is either of these men the European one?”
Sir Peter immediately pointed to the photo of Max Merkel. “It’s him.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Jane and Rachael had separate rooms in The Bruce Hotel the night before their blessing. They wanted to observe the tradition that the bridal couple should not see each other before the ceremony on the day itself, but there was no tradition to prevent them from having dinner together and then coffee and a night-cap in the bar on the night before.
Jane ordered a camomile tea instead of coffee.
“Do you have decaf?” Rachael asked.
“Of course,” the waitress replied.
“Then I’ll have a decaf latte please.”
The women moved a little closer and held hands under the small table in front of them.
“Are you excited about tomorrow?” Rachael asked
.
“Yes, it’ll be funny being part of a big family. I was only three when I was put into care, and from then on I just went from children’s home to foster care and back again. I’ve always had to stand on my own two feet. You don’t know how lucky you are to have a loving family.”
“Well, you will know soon enough how lucky I am, they’ll be your family too in less than twenty-four hours. And don’t you complain to me about it afterwards,” Rachael smiled.
***
Hunter and Meera arrived early at The Bruce Hotel in order to take up Jane’s suggestion of a visit to the National Gallery of Modern Art before the service. It was a beautiful spring day and the grounds around the gallery, with its mature trees, squirrels and birds, kept them amused. Hunter would quite happily have continued to enjoy the outdoors and given a body swerve to the paintings and exhibits.
Meera pointed towards a group of people in fine clothes entering the building. “Look, Hunter, those people look like other wedding guests. Perhaps we should go in too?”
“If you say so, but I am quite happy out here, you know,” Hunter said, before reluctantly following her inside.
***
“Didn’t the girls look radiant walking down the aisle?” Rachael’s father said to Hunter as they stood at the bar. “I felt so proud. I am so glad Rachael has found happiness, she was a miserable teenager, you know. And their flowers were very pretty, weren’t they?”
“They both looked beautiful, Mr Anderson. Relaxed and happy. It’s marvellous.”
Hunter glanced around the bar. It was crowded while the furniture in the hotel function suite was being changed around after the meal to accommodate an evening reception of dancing and drinking in celebration of the new couple. Hunter watched guests taking the opportunity to get photographs, buy drinks and catch up with those they knew who had not been sitting near them at the wedding breakfast. There was a feeling of joy in the air.
“And it was a good spread for the meal,” Rachael’s father added as he turned away to walk back to the table with his drinks.
“Yes. I’ve heard this band is excellent, too. I’m looking forward to the evening, Mr Anderson.” Hunter moved to follow the man back to the reception guests, praying he would make it without tripping and spraying alcohol over anybody.
As he was leaving the bar, Hunter saw Tim wander up with his hand in his pocket.
“Can I just put this behind the bar for the wedding guests?” Tim handed the head barman an envelope. “Take drinks out of that until it is finished.”
“How much is here?” the barman asked.
“One thousand pounds,” Tim said.
“I can’t guarantee it’ll be only wedding guests, but we’ll do our best.”
“That’s good enough,” Tim grinned.
“Let me count it with you, then,” said the man.
Hunter went back to the table, glad he had bought drinks before Tim’s money was there. Hunter liked his independence. He found Tim’s spontaneous generosity embarrassing, but noticed that Tim had done this quietly and at a time when most people wouldn’t notice. Sir Peter would have wanted the glory, whilst his son just wanted to do a nice thing for his friends. They didn’t need to know.
The band were starting to play as Hunter got back to his table. He distributed the drinks and sat down to put his arm around Meera.
Jane and Rachael started the dancing in traditional fashion. They had chosen Amazed by Lonestar as their first dance. All eyes were on them. Family and friends smiled and clapped and joined in as the song progressed.
So many photos were taken that Rachael felt like a film star in her pretty, tailored, elegant, white dress that showed off her long neck, slender arms and long, blonde hair. Rachael clearly felt beautiful and happy.
Jane also looked lovely in a short ivory coloured dress that flattered her toned legs, but she had never been comfortable getting her photograph taken. Ever since she was a little girl, she associated it with moving to a new childrens’ home or having to find yet another new foster family. It was never good news.
Today, however, Hunter saw her put those thoughts aside and hold Rachael close. He was so happy for her. Jane had had such a difficult childhood, but now she had her forever partner whom she adored, her forever home where she was safe, and her forever job that she knew she was good at.
Hunter smiled at her as she smiled for the cameras and she and Rachael danced to their song. He watched as they were joined on the dance-floor by Bear and Mel, Tim and Sarah, Rachael’s parents, and Colin and Maggie holding wee Rosie the bridesmaid in their arms. Hunter thought about his own marriage, and wished Jane and Rachael so much more happiness than he had had.
Jane was so happy she started to cry and laid her head on Rachael’s shoulder. “This is the happiest day of my life, Rache,” she whispered.
As the dancers left the floor after the first dance, Hunter said to Meera, “It was unkind of you to look so good, you shouldn’t outshine the brides, it’s twice wrong, today.”
“And that is twice corny, whenever,” she replied, with a grin.
“But did it work?” Hunter asked.
“Shut up and let’s dance.” Meera stood up and straightened her dress, but immediately she stopped. Hunter was gazing out of the function suite and towards the bar,
“What's the matter, Hunter? What are you looking at?”
Hunter was silent. There were three men at the bar. He watched them carefully. Without saying anything he wandered off, leaving Meera standing. Never off duty got old, to Meera, sometimes. He knew that. But he couldn't help it.
“You got a minute?” Hunter said as he approached Tim
“Yes, Boss. What can I do for you?”
“Come here, and look.”
Tim followed Hunter to the door of the function suite. The three men had their backs to them, but there was no mistaking the fact that Lenny The Lizard Pratt, Max Merkel and Donald Blair were deep in conversation. The detectives were obscured by the dim lighting in the reception area, but the bar was brightly lit. Hunter and Tim could see into the bar clearly.
“Can you hear what they’re saying?” Hunter asked.
“Not above the noise of the band, Boss, no.”
“They know who we are. Let’s find Colin and ask him to go over and buy a drink so he can listen in. They don’t know him.”
Colin left the group he was speaking to when Tim and Hunter came over to him. He listened carefully as Hunter spoke to him quietly.
“Colin, you see those three men standing at the bar?”
“Yes, Boss, Lenny The Lizard, Max Merkel, but I don’t know the bald one.”
“Donald Blair. He’s a solicitor, and we have information that he is working for Arjun Mansoor. I’m concerned he may be involved in the cocaine finding its way into the prison. Can you go up and stand near them to hear what they’re talking about? I’d go, but they’d recognise me or Tim.”
“Sure, Boss. I just hope they keep talking.” Colin made his way towards the bar and did as he was asked. Colin was aware that Hunter was watching him. He took his time choosing the type of beer he would have, discussing ales and the benefits of real ale to bottled beers with the barman as he listened to what the men were saying.
“Well?” Hunter asked as he got back.
“The drinks were free. That was a nice surprise. Someone put a thousand pounds behind the bar.”
Tim blushed.
“And that young barman knows his beers. He’s a member of CAMRA.”
“Really? Do I look like a man who cares?” Hunter said crossly.
“The men were talking about Mansoor and the jail just when I got there. I didn’t really catch much of that. Except apparently Hadi someone is in hospital after catching something.”
“Getting caught, more like. Go on.”
“The Lizard said he is going back to Malaga after his mother’s funeral. He said the showroom boys are thick and being difficult.”
“Which boys?” Hun
ter asked
“The boys at Thomson’s Top Cars, I think. He mentioned Jamie being a dick about his arm,” Colin said.
“To be fair to the lad, he was assaulted by The Lizard and his goon, Squires. His arm was badly broken. I’m not surprised he’s not co-operative in relation to anything The Lizard puts to him. Anyway, The Lizard’s only out on bail. He’s going nowhere fast, no matter what he thinks. Did you catch anything else?”
“Donald Blair said the governor at Edinburgh Prison is a pushover, but some guy Mansoor had hoped would help had turned him down.”
“I doubt the governor is that. And who turned them down for what?
“I don’t know.”
“Is that all?” Hunter asked.
“Merkel said he is due down in London next week for an exhibition he is putting on in the city, and he’s going to an auction at Christie’s and some artwork The Lizard has given him will clean up well. He has clients selling a couple of pieces in this auction. Still, there is someone up here who will let him know when the date of George’s funeral is confirmed. He is determined to be at George Reinbold’s funeral. As soon as his friend tells him when it is, he says he’ll come back for it. The Lizard and Blair said they would be there too, to see that the old bastard is gone.”
“Who said that?”
“I don’t know, Boss. I was so intent on not being caught out, I didn’t look to check which of them was speaking.”
“No problem, Colin. Thanks.”
“Can I get back to the reception, Boss? The Mrs wants a wee dance before we take Rosie home to bed.”
“Of course,” Hunter said. “I’d better get back to Meera.”
***
Jane and Rachael got up early and managed to enjoy a quiet continental breakfast together before they called a taxi to take them to Edinburgh Airport. They were standing near the doors of the departure area looking at the board and waiting for their flight to Crete to be allocated a check-in desk. Jane turned to look around the crowded area at all the people milling about to see if there was anybody she knew.
The airport was busy with groups, couples, families and businessmen all struggling with luggage, talking on phones or waiting to check in for flights. In many ways, although Edinburgh is the capital of Scotland, because of its comparatively small population the feel of the city is like living in a large village. It’s hard to go anywhere that you don’t recognise someone, especially if you are an observant police detective. Jane’s eye caught sight of a familiar face.
