Hunter's Chase Page 15

  “Did you notice? I told you my father would be last to leave. He is always the last to leave. He hates to think he might miss anything.”

  Tim threw himself on to the couch next to Sophie. Lucy reappeared and curled into his lap. He patted her automatically: the cat really did love him. He felt so lucky because he knew Sophie did too.

  “I'm glad he came, and that he thought there was enough going on that there might be something to miss. Did you see him chatting to John Hamilton and then my father?”

  “Yes. John was unusually sociable, I thought.”

  “Yes, but he was really odd when he was speaking to my mother. She said he made her feel uneasy. Still, I sent her off for a bite to eat and heard no more about it. And did we both have fun? I think I chatted to everybody, but I hardly saw you at all! I thought it was a great evening. We did well, didn't we?”

  “Yes. I think we managed to speak to everybody. I don't think anybody was left alone too long. I am amazed that your idea of throwing everybody into the same party worked so well. Boxes of choccies for the neighbours tomorrow to apologise for the noise and so much parking in the street?”

  Sophie nodded.

  “Do you want a final celebratory drink to congratulate ourselves on an excellent evening?”

  “Sounds good. But don't bother opening anything. I'll just have a glass of water. I'm really thirsty.”

  “That's what I love most about you. A real lady.”

  Sophie stuck out her tongue at her boyfriend and smiled. Lucy shifted indignantly as Tim got up from the couch. He came back with one glass of tap water and a bottle of Coors Light. The two of them sat and chatted about the evening until, eventually, they went to bed, happy and exhausted, with Lucy curled up at Tim's feet.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Jamie was not used to spending Saturday evenings alone sitting in one place. So a visit while he was in hospital, any visit, even from his boring cousin Frankie, was better than nothing.

  Frankie sat down. “Jamie?”

  “Frankie, my man. Thanks for coming and for bringing a few quid for the telly.”

  “Mam told me I had to.”

  “Cheers.”

  The two young men sat and stared at the TV screen above Jamie's bed.

  “Sorry about your pop, Frankie. How is your mam holding out?”

  “The Black Widow? Wailing all the time. At least, when anybody's looking. I get no sense out of her. And she's furious with Whatshisname Mansoor. Damned if I know what that's all about. He's been decent with me and gave me the weekends off for as long as I need since Pop got mown down.”

  “Aye, well. I don't know, Frankie. Grief's funny. I suppose. My pop'll be out soon enough. He'll look out for you lot. Your mam knows that.”

  “I know. Uncle Ian's good to my mam. When he's out that will help. Help a lot. Never a great fan of my pop's though, was he?”

  “Not much. I got a story that your pop cheated on your mam and my pop put a stop to that!” Jamie grinned. “And your lassie. I heard she's expecting. Twins. Way to go. Who would have thought it? Sly dog, Frankie!”

  “How do you know that? Who told you?” Frankie shot his cousin an accusing look.

  “Who? My pop. Your mam told him, mate! Don't give it out to me.”

  “But how did she know? I never told her! I only told my pop, but he already knew and he wasn't all that chuffed.” Frankie shook his head. “How did Mam get to know? I was working out how to tell her because she can't stand Annie's family. Loves that her ma does for us. Makes Mam feel fine and fancy. Right cruel she is about Mary-Ann, though.”

  “Search me, Frankie. I just know what my pop said to me. Guess your pop told your mam. And she passed on the happy news. Did your lot find out from that woman that's the doctor's receptionist? The one that's in hock to the Robbin' Hope crowd?” Jamie stopped for breath.

  “Don't call' em that, Jamie!”

  “Okay, but everybody else does. Anyway, how is she? Annie, that is?”

  “It's a funny thing, I just can't reach her. She usually phones in the afternoon and we meet after school for a walk or a talk in the park up at the Hermitage. Nice and quiet, you know?” Frankie said solemnly. “But her phone rings out. I don't know what's going on. It's a worry. I like time with her on our own.”

  “I bet you do!” Jamie smiled. “She's maybe lost her phone or left it somewhere.”

  “Aye could be. I don't know.” Frankie turned back to stare at the TV. Then he started. “Oh, and Jamie, this is for you. “ From out of his backpack Frankie pulled a punnet of grapes.

  “Grapes!” Jamie whined. “You have got to be joking!”

  “That's what you give sick folk.” Frankie grinned at his cousin. He dug deeper into the bag. He pulled out a large packet of Jaffa Cakes, December's copy of Mayfair and four cans of lager.

  Jamie laughed out loud. “Aye, okay, you got me there. Hide that beer in the cupboard, will you?”

  The cousins smiled together then settled back to watch TV again.

  “You watching X Factor this year?” Frankie asked.

  “Aye. No much choice.”

  “You’ll be going back inside for this one?”

  “Maybe. I'll try for a suspended or community service.”

  “Aye, right. Good luck with that!” Frankie sighed sceptically.

  As he got up to leave at the end of the visiting hour, he said, “Let us know if you need ought.”

  “Aye and you'll let me know what's up with your lassie, eh?” Jamie asked. “You're a good lad, Frankie. No the bonniest boy in the class, but she's lucky to have you.”

  “Thanks, I think.” Frankie smiled. “Cheers Jamie.”

  Frankie wandered away still chewing over how his mam knew about Annie. He had asked Pop not to tell her. He’d wanted to do that. It was his news to tell. It had to be done carefully, because Mam could be funny about things.

  Why had Annie not been in touch? She had not even phoned and met up when they were meant to. He knew there was probably a simple explanation, but he could not help but worry. His skin got worse when he worried. It would take him a good hour to scrub his face and burst those spots tonight when he got home. He gazed at his reflection in the window of the bus, and thought it would be no wonder if Annie did not want him.

  ***

  Frankie could not have been more wrong. Annie did want him. She would never stand him up on purpose. She never did stand him up, not really. She wanted him to know how much she loved him, and when she heard Frankie asking directions to Jamie's ward, Annie was so happy to hear his voice. She would have smiled if she could have. She would have shouted out to him if she could have.

  “I'm here. We're here. You babies are safe; care for them for me, love them for me. Don't let them forget me. Let me tell you who tried to kill me. You won't believe it.”

  But Annie could not say any of that; she could not do anything. She could just lie in the bed and feel her babies wriggle inside her. A tear escaped and tracked down her cheek to the pillow.

  Frankie's voice grew increasingly faint as he walked towards Jamie and away from Annie. He did not know she was there. He would be at her side if he did, she was sure of that.

  Annie's misery grew as Frankie's voice receded along the corridor. More tears trickled down her cheek. The wet patches got so itchy, and there was nobody to comfort her; nobody there to dry her face. Nobody with her except her babies. Her joys. Her future, her gift to Frankie.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Rachael and Jane tried to slip past Charlie as they went upstairs to the incident room, but that would have taken nothing less than a miracle. They knew the desk sergeant was eagle-eyed and sharp-eared, and would also be determined to hear all the details and gossip from Tim's party on the previous evening. It was well-known that Charlie liked to gossip; he would trade his grandmother for a couple of juicy rumours.

  The women were equally determined that what happened at the party stayed at the party.

  “S
o, ladies, didn't expect to see you this early. Good time last night?”

  “Yeah, great, Charlie. Thanks,” Rachael said. “Pity you were on duty,” she added sarcastically.

  “Well, somebody had to hold the fort. Did your boss go? Who was there? Anybody I'd know?”

  “A few familiar faces. It was a busy party.”

  “Oh aye. So, there'd be Bear and Mel and—”

  “Nice as it is to chat, we have work to get on with. I'm sure you do too, Charlie,” Jane said.

  “Ooooh!” Charlie sneered. “You can be a toffee-nosed cow, Jane Renwick.”

  “That's ‘You can be a toffee-nosed cow, Sergeant Renwick,’ to you, Charlie.”

  “Come on! I just want a bit of gossip for the boys. Go on, just tell me who was there.”

  “And you'll make up the rest, I suppose? No, there will be none of that, I'm afraid.”

  Jane shrugged and left Charlie grimacing as she marched up the stairs towards the incident room, followed closely by Rachael.

  The women were the only detectives in the incident room that early in the morning after the party. No surprise there. Rachael made them both a strong caffeine fix and carried the mugs over to Jane's desk. Jane had the statements about Billy's murder in front of her. She was frowning as she picked up her mug. She sipped slowly and thoughtfully. Rachael looked at the list.

  “When you were regaling the Countess with your tales of whales, I rather switched off from your stories.”

  “Yeah, thanks for that. I eventually passed her onto John Hamilton. Poor bitch!”

  “Well, all I was going to say was that, while I was gazing out into the night, I noticed a guy drive up in a light-coloured Land Rover. Old Discovery model, perhaps. Anyway, he seemed to know Tim's dad and John.”

  “Strange combination of acquaintances. But John was a bit all over the place last night, wasn't he? And he spent a lot of time with Sir Peter.”

  “I think Tim's dad gave him something, too, but I can't be sure,” Rachael said. “But when I went into the bathroom after John came out, there was cocaine on top of the cistern.”

  “No! Sir Peter gave John Hamilton something? Cocaine? No, that would be too odd. I thought John was just showing off to Sir Peter.”

  “You think about that. I'm going to try to look up the registration number of that Discovery. See what I can find. It was so foggy that I am not sure if I saw it properly. I hope that I remembered it right.”

  “Okay, Hun, keep me posted.” Jane smiled as Rachael wandered away towards a computer.

  Hunter slept late, but when he woke, he woke happier than he had been in a long time. He smiled as he remembered the fleeting kiss on that cheek he gave Meera as she dropped him off at the flat. Maybe he should have invited her in for coffee? No, that was too corny. Anyway, he would have needed to tidy the flat before he could invite anybody into it.

  It had been a last-minute decision to go to Tim's party when he learned she was going to be there, but he was glad he had decided to go. He hated to admit it, but it was the best night out he'd had in a long time. And Tim had been good at keeping his dad out of the way. He’d done it unbidden. Maybe the lad wasn't like Sir Peter after all.

  Folk did say young Myerscough was his own man. Pretty girlfriend Tim had, too.

  On top of all that, Hunter was having lunch with Cameron. This was a turning into a really good weekend. Hunter did not see his son that often, so this was a treat, now that Cameron was at University in Aberdeen. How did that happen? When did he grow up? Cameron had come down to Edinburgh from Aberdeen for a concert, and was due to join Hunter for a catch-up lunch at The Persevere Bar before he got the coach back. Brilliant.

  He'll probably tap me up for a few quid too, Hunter thought. He smiled to himself; he had no problem with that. Their relationship had been strained, especially since Hunter's divorce from Cameron's mother, so he was going to make the most of today.

  Hunter jumped into the shower and dressed in a pair of smart chinos with a light blue polo shirt and V-necked sweater under his jacket. He left the flat a few minutes early to walk to the pub via a cashpoint. It was cold as he left the cover of the stair, and the drizzle of rain soaked through his jacket faster than he had expected. He wanted to be able to give his son some cash to help him out, as well as paying for the lunch and a few pints.

  I'm looking forward to seeing Cameron, he thought. And I'm glad that I'll be able to tell him I have done something other than work. Not sure who'll be more surprised: Cameron on hearing this, or me for being able to say it.

  He looked up at the grey sky and low clouds. Very November, he thought.

  The tall, grey tenement buildings emphasised the darkness of the day. Short, dark, late November days: depressing. Hunter was glad to walk out of the chilly, wet world and into the warm, friendly cocoon of the pub.

  “Hello, Clouseau? What are you doing here this lunchtime?” asked Tom, the darts team captain. “Don't you have a thief to chase or a lost dog to track down?”

  “Ha ha, big man,” Hunter smiled. “No, the world will have to turn without me on the cases today. I'm meeting Cameron for lunch before he gets the coach back to Aberdeen.”

  “I bet that'll cost you more than a lunch! Want a pint while you're waiting?”

  “Aye, go on then.”

  Hunter joined the group and listened to their chat.

  “....so it is really quite difficult you can mix it up easily....” Jim was saying.

  “Yep, easy to mix up I and l or p and q, b and d even m and n.” Ian added

  “Or 5 and S or c and o. Dyslexia only makes that harder, I suppose. How does your daughter get on at school?” Paul asked Jim.

  “She gets extra help. They're very good. I think she can get extra time in exams and so on, when she gets to that stage anyway.”

  Hunter stopped listening and began to think about the car number plate he’d seen on the night of Billy Hope's death. He was so deep in thought that he did not notice Cameron until his son was right in front of him and tapped him on the shoulder.

  “Hey Dad!” Cameron said. ”Work again?”

  Hunter put those thoughts onto the back burner.

  “Not at all,” he lied. “I was out late at a party last night and I'm just a bit tired.” The whole pub seemed to fall silent.

  Cameron laughed out loud. “Now those are words I never thought I'd hear from your lips, Pater! Next you'll tell me there's a lady in your life!”

  Hunter blushed. “Good to see you too, son! Pint?”

  He ordered pints for both of them and they chose the steak pie and chips. They spent the afternoon talking, joking as adults together.

  “I'm rather enjoying getting to know you as a grown-up, Cameron.”

  “I've had a fine time, Dad,” Cameron said. “A whole afternoon without arguing. It's a first for us.”

  Cameron got up to get the coach back to Aberdeen.

  “Here's a little something that might help.” Hunter handed his son five crisp twenty-pound notes.

  “Dad, a hundred pounds? That's far too much. You really don't have to.”

  “I know, son. But I choose to. I know life in Aberdeen is expensive. Take it.”

  Cameron smiled, thanked his father, and took his leave.

  “You going straight for the coach?” Hunter was sorry to see his son go.

  “I might stop in to see one of my music contacts first.”

  “Okay, son, you take care.”

  Hunter declined to join the darts team for a pint and practice match. He had plans for this evening, so he left and went home.

  Hunter's plans were not usual. He tidied and vacuumed his living room, stripped and made his bed, washed all the dirty dishes in the sink, and even cleaned the bathroom. As Hunter hung up the last of his shirts in the wardrobe, he decided to get an Indian takeaway delivered for dinner. He was tired, and it seemed like the sensible thing to do.

  ***

  Cameron smiled to himself as he left the pub. He
would stop by and see Arjun before he left town. The hundred quid from his dad would get him quite a snowstorm.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Monday morning. The incident room was noisy as DCI Mackay tried to call the room to order. The gossip was all about Tim's party. Hunter could not wait for the meeting to end. He was sure he was the subject of some of the chat. Maybe he should not have gone along.

  “So, DS Renwick, can you explain what your team has discovered thus far?”

  Jane drew a deep breath and started to enumerate the findings.

  “We have checked the partial car registration numbers that DI Wilson recalled and those other witnesses thought they saw when Billy Hope was killed, and also when the young pregnant woman was run down in Morningside, up by Comiston. There have been some interesting developments.”

  Jane paused and looked around. In stark contrast to the earlier chatter, the room had fallen silent.

  “Most of the car owners that we have checked do not seem to have any connection to the deceased,” she went on. “In fact, it is true to say that none of them do. However, one of the owners has appeared on the radar recently: a local businessman who is managing Ian Thomson's luxury car sale-room while Thomson is residing courtesy of Her Majesty. The man's name is Arjun Mansoor.”

  Colin spoke. “He reported his Land Rover stolen to John and me, then changed his mind.”

  “He runs Ian Thomson's Luxury Cars franchise on the west of the city,” Tim volunteered. “Has done for about 3 or 4 years. My dad’s bought a couple Range Rovers and an Audi from him. He lives at the other end of my street.”

  “Yes, John and I went to see him,” Jane said. “There is no doubt his car was there and had sustained some damage, but he no longer wanted to press a charge of theft. But when I went to visit the Gallery of Modern Art, I saw him there with Edna Hope. They seemed to be arguing. I plan to go and visit Edna this morning to see if she feels like telling me more about that connection.”

  “Take DC Myerscough, Jane,” Hunter said.

  Jane and Tim both nodded.