by Val Penny
“Look, Rache, over there. Who is that? I recognise him?”
“That guy in the queue for the London flight?”
“Yes. He looks familiar.”
“He does. Isn’t it that the art dealer Tim knows, Max Merkel?”
“That’s what I thought, too”
“What are you doing now?”
“Phoning the boss.”
“Fucking hell, Janey, we’re on our honeymoon.”
“We’re police, Rache. We’re never off duty.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
It was a fairly sleepy looking group of detectives that sat around in the incident room for the following morning’s briefing.
“It’s all right for Jane and Rachael, they’ll be halfway to their honeymoon destination by now,” Bear complained as he gulped at his second coffee of the morning. “Anyone know where they’re going?”
“Crete, I think,” Tim said. “By way of consolation, I brought doughnuts, I thought we’d need the sugar rush, although Ailsa didn’t approve.”
“First class honours degree in Medicine from Cambridge, what does your wee sister know?” Mel asked. “You got a chocolate one?”
“Help yourself and pass them round. There’s an apple doughnut for you, Colin. It was the closest I could get to a piece of fruit in Krispy-Kreme.”
Colin yawned and gave him a thumbs-up as Allan Mackay smacked a book on the desk to get attention.
“Quiet, calm down, folks. A lot to get through this morning,” Mackay said. “Can we start with George’s murder, DI Wilson? I want to release his body for burial as soon as we can.”
“We know he was shot, and probably by someone hired to do the deed. There are four men in our sights. Lenny The Lizard is always bad news, but he says he’s here to visit his mother.”
“Is she ill?” Mackay asked.
“She was before she died, sir. The Lizard has been a bit trigger-happy in the past, too. And we have information that he needs money, fast. We also have George’s nephew, who bears him a grudge, recently moved to the city. Arjun Mansoor has his brother-in-law, Kasim Saleh working for him in the city. Arjun blames George for the fact that he got caught for drug trafficking last year. Last, but not least, the son of the man that George killed when he was young was recently in the city, on business, but he flew down to London this morning.”
“How do you know that, Boss?” Mel asked.
“Jane called me from the airport. She and Rachael saw Merkel waiting at a check-in-desk with his luggage.”
“Well spotted, DS Renwick,” Mackay said.
“Yes, no way we would have known otherwise.”
“Jane’s witness said the man who went up George’s path wasn’t as big as Brian Squires, but she couldn’t say between The Lizard, Merkel and Heinrich Reinbold. Too far away,” Bear said.
“Thank you, DC Zewedu. Now, what about Jenny Kozlowski?” Mackay asked.
“Perhaps Colin and I can help with that?” Nadia asked, looking at her colleague for support.
Colin nodded, wiping sugar from his mouth with back of his hand. He rarely ate cakes but clearly enjoyed that doughnut.
“It took hours, but Colin and I got a good picture of the man who drove the car that Jenny was found in,” Nadia continued. “He drove the car from Folkestone to Edinburgh Airport, and then, after changing in the gents lavvy, he got a flight back to Paris.”
“He’s the same man the boss and I saw in hospital,” Tim commented. “He was taken there when he arrived back in the country by plane because he’d been carrying cocaine internally.”
“The car was taken from the airport to Thomson’s Top Cars by a different man. We finally got a clear picture of him too.” Colin handed round the photo.
“I know that face, don’t you, Tim?” Hunter smiled.
“Yes, indeed. That makes sense.” Tim nodded slowly.
“Well done, Colin, Nadia. Now we have to tie the cocaine in that car to him, and we need to find out who took the car for its test drive with Jenny,” Hunter said.
“Akram’s information will help, won't it, Boss?” Tim asked.
“Akram is the mule?” Mackay asked.
“Yes, Sir. For two different dealers, it seems,” Hunter said.
“Unusual,” Mackay said.
“Yes Sir, I think he was cheap and vulnerable; he was ‘hired’ when he was living in the Jungle in Calais. His English isn’t great, he says he didn’t realise what he was getting into.”
“Poor bugger. How did he end up working for two different groups?” Mackay asked.
“He got in tow with the first lot, then when he went to get his passport, he didn’t understand what was being said to him and ended up agreeing to courier for a second gang,” Hunter explained.
“That’s grim. And do we know anything about the man who went on the test drive with Jenny?”
“Well, Sir, when we showed photos to Jamie and Frankie, Jamie identified Heinrich Reinbold as the customer who took the Bentley for a drive. Frankie identified Merkel, or perhaps Colin, as the man who came in to the showroom as he was leaving.”
“What? When did I change teams?” Colin asked indignantly.
“Because of your build and colouring, I put a photo of you in to test our witnesses. With Frankie, I don’t think the confusion was helpful. Sorry, Colin. Frankie did finally decide that Merkel is the man who took the Volvo out with Jenny. But it took him a while.”
“And Merkel’s now in London. You better not have lost him, DI Wilson,” Mackay said gruffly.
“No, Sir. I’ve been in touch with Frank Armstrong in Southwark CID down in London. Armstrong has had men watching Merkel since his plane landed in London. I plan to gather more information, and by the time Merkel comes north for George’s funeral we will know if there is a case against him or not.”
“He deals in high class art, not battered old cars, Boss. He is very well respected.”
“I know that, Tim.”
“Mel, do you remember when we were in seeing Jamie and Frankie, Brian Squires came in?” Tim said.
“Yes; he said the Volvo was his friend’s car,” Mel replied.
“And when we caught up with Lenny The Lizard he more or less said Jamie deserved to get his arm broken because the lad had lost his car,” Tim said.
“I’m getting the feeling Jenny Kozlowski was a ‘wrong place wrong time’ killing,” Mackay observed. “I’m not even sure her attacker meant to kill her, just stop her getting in their way.”
“I don’t think that will cut any ice with her mother, Sir,” Hunter said softly. “Her only child ended up dead.”
“I think Jenny’s death, whatever the intention of the killer, is tied up to the supply of cocaine to the city. If we solve that, we’ll know who murdered Jenny,” Mackay said.
“There seem to be two different gangs bringing cocaine in right now: one for the prison and one for the city generally. They both seem to centre around Mansoor, and poor, desperate Akram seems to have been used by both,” Hunter said.
“My father and Ian Thomson are willing to assist us in snaring Mansoor,” Tim commented.
“Why is Ian Thomson willing to help?” Mackay asked. “I hope he’s not expecting any favours?”
“No, Sir. We did the decent thing by his son and nephew, and made sure The Lizard and Squires had to keep their distance. In Ian Thomson’s mind, this’ll pay us back for that, and we can’t look for any more favours from him,” Tim said.
“Yes, he also hates the drug trade and is furious with Mansoor for using his showroom for trafficking drugs last year,” Hunter said.
“So why was it used it again?” Tim asked.
“It was easy?” suggested Bear.
“They knew where it was?” asked Mel.
“They didn’t think we’d look there after last time?” said Colin.
“Enough!” Mackay shouted, thumping the table with a book. “Hunter, sort out the cocaine in the jail, and do it quickly. We have a captive audienc
e there.”
***
As the meeting drew to a close, Tim felt the mobile phone in his pocket vibrate. He did not recognise the number, but took the call and was surprised to hear his father’s voice.
“Dad? Where are you?”
“That is the most ridiculous question I’ve been asked all day!”
“Well, how come the pre-recorded prison message didn’t come on first?”
“You’re a bright, lad. You work it out. Ian Thomson lent me a phone so I wouldn’t be recorded.”
“Ah.”
“Just don’t tell the governor. Anyway, I spent yesterday making a spreadsheet of everybody who knows about the drugs coming in to Mansoor. It makes interesting reading.”
“Go on.”
“Well, apart from the snowmen in here who stuff the coke up their noses, those who know about the drugs coming in must include whoever is bringing it in, and anybody turning a blind eye to it.”
“The prison officers? I can’t see that, Dad, it’d be more than their job’s worth and they’d end up inside with you lot.”
“Thanks, son. That’s what I worked out, so the most likely source of bringing it in is Mansoor’s solicitor, Donald Blair. He’s the only person who visits Mansoor that gets privileged visits: he doesn't get searched. That’s who you want to target. Do you want me to pretend I’m using again and set up a sting?”
“Only if you can do that without using cocaine again, Dad. I don’t think Ailsa and I could cope with that.”
“I promise you, I can. Now, this is my idea...”
Chapter Thirty
Sir Peter walked along the corridor to Ian Thomson’s cell. Finding Ian was alone, Sir Peter returned the phone, with a packet of cigarettes in payment. He sat down and explained the sting that was planned.
“Yes, easier for you to pretend you’re back on the snow than for me to show a sudden interest,” Ian said. “No-one would believe that, because everybody knows my views about drugs.”
“You’re right. It would never work with you. It’s also common knowledge you hate Mansoor. But nobody here has ever asked me what I think of him. I just steer clear.”
“Until now.”
“Yes, until now.”
“Get a message to him through wee Mick.”
“The Irishman in the cleaning team? Good idea, those boys go everywhere.”
“You’ll need plenty smokes up front to secure snow from Mansoor, though. He doesn’t give credit.”
Sir Peter nodded and went back to his cell. It would arouse suspicion if he spent too long with Ian Thomson.
***
Tim and Bear went to as many of the rugby internationals played at Murrayfield as their shifts allowed. Wild horses would not have kept them away from the Six Nations International match today, Scotland versus Wales.
Tim and Bear both felt at home at Murrayfield. It’s a stadium where everybody gets a seat. So, although today would be a capacity crowd of over 67,000, the people making their way along Roseburn Street towards the venue were good-natured. Tim had decided to ask Gillian Pearson to join him. He was glad when she accepted, so they walked, hand in hand, chatting with Bear and Mel.
“When is Ailsa going home?” Mel asked.
“She flew back this morning, on the basis that if she didn’t have a ticket for the match, she might as well benefit from a cheap flight,” Tim replied. He was aware of comments about himself and Bear as the four of them walked along. The men were used to causing a stir. They were both tall, with the physiques of rugby players. Although they were now in their early thirties, and playing for the older players’ team of Merchiston Castle School former pupils, their distinctive builds and vastly different colourings always caused people to look twice. Tim knew that Mel was used to it, but was aware that the glances were all new to Gillian (although she often got a second glance herself, due to the bright green flash at the front of her hair). As the four of them went into the Roseburn Bar for a drink before the match, a group of Welsh supporters were getting up to leave and Gillian managed to grab the table.
“That was quick. Well done!” Mel said.
Gillian grinned. “It comes from playing musical chairs with three older brothers.”
Tim sat with the girls while Bear went to buy the round. He, Tim and Mel all ordered pints of special. Gillian asked for a gin and tonic and a bag of cheese and onion crisps. Bear caught Mel’s eye and smiled.
“We have a lady present,” he smiled.
“And that’ll not be me, big man,” Mel replied. “I know. Go on, get them in before I die of thirst.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Gillian said. “I’ve never liked beer.”
“Don’t worry about Bear, he’s just teasing me. He always says a pint glass looks silly in my wee hands, but compared to him and Tim everybody in the world has wee hands.”
It was Tim’s turn to smile.
As soon as Tim saw that Bear had made it to the front of the queue around the bar, he got up to help and Bear passed the drinks back to him. They managed this above the heads of everybody else and never spilled a drop.
“You big boys sure ate your porridge when you were young, didn’t you?” a little Welshman said.
“That we did,” Bear laughed.
“You two have done that before,” Gillian said.
“More times than you would believe,” Tim replied as he sat down.
“Myerscough, isn’t it? Tim Myerscough and Winston Zewedu? My goodness, imagine seeing you here.”
Tim and Bear stood up at the same time. Both of them dwarfed the newcomer. Neither of them smiled.
“Lord Buchanan,” Bear said holding out his hand to shake the man’s hand formally.
“Well, I never, Lucky Lord Lachlan Buchanan. What are you doing slumming it here?” Tim did not offer to shake hands.
“I’m just meeting a few friends. Fine pub, here, what? And I heard about your dad, Myerscough. Rotten luck getting banged up like that.”
“Lucky! Oh, hello Tim, Bear,” a familiar voice said.
“Sophie. Long time no see. May I introduce you? Gillian Pearson, meet Lady Sophie Dalmore, my ex-girlfriend,” Tim said.
Gillian gasped and blushed. She brushed the green flash in the fringe of her hair and smiled.
“And my present one, of course.” Lucky put his arm protectively around Sophie’s waist.
“Of course,” Tim said flatly.
The tension amongst the group could be cut with a knife. Tim could tell that Gillian was uneasy; the three men stood verbally scoring points against one another, whilst Sophie looked as if she wanted the earth to open up and swallow her.
“Good to see you boys. We must get together sometime,” Lucky said insincerely.
“Of course,” Bear said, sarcastically.
“Why?” Tim asked.
“Indeed. Well, I see my friends, I must go. Sophie, I won’t be long. Will you wait in the Range Rover?”
“Range Rover? You had me folded up in a Fiat 500 so you could save the planet!” Tim said angrily.
Sophie looked embarrassed, but said nothing and turned to walk out of the pub.
As Lucky turned to walk away Tim made to sit down, but he noticed the group of men in the corner that Lucky was heading for.
“You should choose your friends more carefully, Lucky, or you may not be Lucky Lord Lachlan Buchanan for much longer.”
“Jealously doesn’t become you, old boy. And no hitting on Sophie, if you know what’s good for you,” Lucky sneered.
Bear made to stand up to defend Tim, but Tim shook his head. “He’s not worth it, Bear.”
“Who are his friends?” Mel asked, nudging Tim.
“Look over there,” Tim murmured. “Donald Blair, Brian Squires and Lenny The Lizard.”
“I know Squires and Lenny The Lizard, but what is the other man's connection?” Mel asked.
“Donald Blair? He’s a lawyer.”
“The one..?”
“Exactly.”
&n
bsp; “What are you two whispering about?” Bear asked.
Tim nodded at the group.
“I thought Lucky Buchanan was choosy about the company he keeps,” Bear said.
“Aye, well, not this time, he’s not. Of course, it could be perfectly innocent. The Lizard’s mother gets buried tomorrow. Squires could just be back for that,” Mel said.
“How do you know she gets buried tomorrow?” Bear asked.
“Sarah told me. The Lizard took a huge box of Thornton’s chocolates in for the staff and told them.”
“Does the boss know?” Tim asked.
Mel shrugged.
Tim took out his phone to tell Hunter the news.
“Can you and Bear make sure Squires doesn’t leave the premises?” Hunter said. “I’ll get somebody down there now to bring in him for the assault on Jamie. Then we might focus his mind on getting some information out of him.”
“I think we can manage that, Boss. Donald Blair and another guy are with Lenny The Lizard and Squires. Do you want us to approach them?” Tim asked.
“No, not if you don’t have to. Uniforms are five minutes away.”
Tim casually took a photo of the four men before putting his phone back in his pocket. Then he whispered quietly to Bear and the two big men lifted their pints off the table and made their way to the doors of the Roseburn Bar. The pub was mobbed. It always was when an international match was on. But the mood in the bar was good-humoured and happy. Win or lose, the Scots and the Welsh fans enjoyed each other’s company, a joke, and a song at the end of the night.
Lucky stood up and walked out just before the uniforms walked in. Bear nodded to Tim and the peer left without issue. There were wolf-whistles around the bar as the uniforms fought their way through the crowd.
“Entertainment for the ladies, the strippers are here!” one Welsh wag shouted.
