Hunt Hunted Murder Murdered (4 page)

2.1 Aidrian

The first letters had arrived in November. The postmark showed they were from the Prison Service in Glasgow, from a post office box there. The Inspector in charge, David Duffel was not familiar to Aids but the request seemed reasonable and who was going to argue with the authenticity. The letter asked for further information regarding the night when Dev died. Where he was, who had set up the game, who had written the clues, which couples had gone where. He would speak to Bob before responding. They had all been through this. Did they want more turmoil? Hadn’t they been through enough over this horrible event?

Finding out a good friend was dead was bad enough. But that he had been a paedo and a murderer was too awful to comprehend. Aids had thought about how he could or should have helped Dev. Instead he had kicked him to the kerb after getting together with Monica and having the kids. Dev seemed lost. A little directionless and unfocused. Sometimes he would appear after weeks of no contact announcing huge ambition and creativity then once again lose himself in it all and disappear once more. Next time he saw him he would be drunk at the bar spouting shit and telling Aids how much he loved him and that everything would work out. Aids had a big heart and wished he had been more caring – but Mon always made him feel bad about having Dev about. She had once dated him and it obviously had not ended well. But if it hadn’t been for that he would not be with the woman he loved and who shared his life.

Then on top of the worries about Dev had come the financial worries. One huge bill had come in and it was make or break. A 20 to one shot had meant the gas and electricity stayed on and gave a little more for Aids to play with besides! It had been a little miracle and as he watched the unfancied filly romp home, he had pledged to use this good fortune to get out of his mess. A few weeks later the bills needed paying again and he took a gamble too far. A cheque had come in, unsigned, from a customer at work. Aids had put it aside and requested a duplicate be sent over. Meantime he had accidentally written off the cheque when trying to update the database and, all of a sudden, a company was free from debt with a 10,000 pound cheque to spare.

It was not a difficult decision, no matter how gut wrenching it was for him to swallow. For Mon, for the kids, he had to make sure they paid the bills. The cheque cleared in his personal account days later and that was it. A few months later a letter had come through from the customer. They had requested receipt of the cash. One falsified receipt later, explained away as a mistake, and a valid receipt number disappeared from Fleck and Fraser office and back to the customer.

He would not have thought about doing it again until a quote came in which was for a new security system in their office. The quote had been for 60,000 pounds. It had been pushed through by the MD. He just had to send out the order.

The letter he sent declined the offer. Bob had helped him to get a good system for 15K and with 3K labour costs, they had managed to make 42,000 profit. 21K each. Both schtum with the girls and any of the others. But this time the bosses had become wary. They wanted assurances. They had paid for an around the clock, 24hr call line and were waiting for the attention of the company. Aidrian had managed to talk around the issue at various monthly meetings, but time was growing thin. It would come out - and how. It was fraud. He would be found out, especially when they traced some of the money going to his bank account.

So Dev had died at a time when things were bad… but to some extent this improved Aid’s situation. His company gave him leave of absence on full pay. Without the name of the company they had dealt with they did not have a direct lead, and so long as he and Bob said nothing, they would not. Unless F and F checked their own employee bank accounts.

Aids tugged on the bedsheet, wrapping it up to his ears like a child hiding away from a scary film. Mon was already out with the kids. It was Monday morning and after nine. He should have been at work. The phone had not rung yet and Mon said she was not phoning in on his behalf. He could do it himself if he was just going to fanny about the house all day getting under her feet. He felt bad enough and now Mon was on his back. He would have to tell her. Even if it made matters worse.

Dev had known about his problems. Dev had a good ear. But maybe it was just as well he was dead. Because things were just about to be opened up and Mon wouldn’t rest until she heard everything from everyone who knew anything.

‘Hi it’s Aidrian. Listen I’m really under the weather. Something I’ve picked up from the kids. Hopefully I’ll be in tomorrow, but I’ll see how I feel. Might just go to see what the doctor thinks.’

2.2. Monica

What would she do now? She sat holding the steering wheel. Children away to school for the day. Monica had an appointment in the house at 10. It was well paid, too. Aidrian was spoiling her life. It was hard to be harsh on him. He worked hard and something was bugging him. If he said it was nothing she believed him though – so be it. She would have to cancel. Shit.

She picked up the phone.

‘Hello’

‘Hi it’s Monica’

‘Hi there, I’m just on my way’

‘I’m sorry, but we can’t ok’

‘Oh. Ok. Just this week or …’

‘Oh, just this week… it’s difficult

‘OK, no problem’

‘Unless…’

‘….’

‘…there’s somewhere…’

‘It’s difficult. People know me at the hotel’.

‘No problem, I understand’.

‘I’ll see you next week all being well’.

He was good money, but the councillor was a friend of her Dad, and she had been loathe at first to offer her ‘extra services’, but really needed the money. Now she depended on him and he wasn’t so bad. Never an affair, but there was tenderness and mutual respect. Not like the others. And then, of course, there were those she still needed to pay off…

Monica pushed the phone into the pocket of her handbag. Mirror, signal, manoevre and left the car park.

2.3 Bob

Bob smiled to himself. The squeals from the cupboard were stifled by something. He glanced across the floor at the other blokes, while starting to turn another bolt into a piece of sheet metal, positioning the washer into place at the back. One guy laid his head on the work surface, tears streaming down his face and couldn’t hold back any more. The laughter boomed through the factory floor. Bob felt a little awkward. This prank could get him into real trouble with the superiors. He could see them peering from the top offices down to the floor. He walked off towards the cupboard.

Through flashes from molten steel, screams continued. A terrified dark haired man tried to pull himself away from violent sparks as molten liquid flashed up the side of the container. The heat was stiff. Bob smirked at the victim.

He pulled a Stanley knife from his pocket and began to remove the tape from the man’s ankles and wrists. The man grabbed at the tape over his mouth.

‘You shits – fuckin hell, I thought I was going to die’

Bob slapped his victims back.

‘Just a laugh eh?’.

Bob stood laughing as the door opened.

Murray Johnson, the shift manager walked in with a white shirt on. No overalls for him today. He also wore a tie. Credibility cloth meant something was up. Suddenly Bob began to think whether today was the wrong day to exact some workplace revenge. This looked serious.

‘You two. With me. NOW’. He opened the fire exit door out to the yard.

Bob knew this was not good. A couple of hours later while sitting on his bike down by the scrap yard in Inverkeithing, he thought about ending it Evil Kneivel style, throwing himself over the salvaged ship and into the mudflats which would see the end of him. No. It was bad enough losing the job. He would need another job fast and, in the meantime, it was the bike that would have to go.

2.4 Marie

‘Marie’. She stopped in the gym corridor, and swigged from her isotonic drink.

It was Matt Henson the Gym owner.

‘I’ve been getting good feedback about your classes’

‘That’s great’

‘More than that’, Matt opened the office door and indicated for Marie to go through before closing the door behind her. The office was typical leather desktop and chairs. Professional, clean and impressive.

‘I’ve been talking to my Dad about expanding the business’, Marie was ushered into the seat across from Matt’s desk.

‘I don’t want to be too forward, but you have talent. You are an asset here, and you probably know more about the running of this place than I do.’ It pleased Marie, to at last get some praise for her efforts.

‘It’s good of you to say that Matt. I appreciate it’.

Matt blurted out ‘How would you feel about managing a new gym for me?’ He sat up on the outside of his desk and looked directly at Marie. ‘Or better still, buy in to the business’

What could she say? This was an unbelievable opportunity for a lass from Fife who had only ever ‘got by’ in anything she had done.

Bob and Marie had some savings and he would support her with this surely.

‘I don’t know what to say Matt. That’s unbelievable’

‘I think you’d be a great asset for the Gym and the business going forward. I really want you to say yes’.

‘That would be great, of course, yes’

The morning passed with a couple of classes. Not her best with other things on her mind. But enough time to help some punters with their steps, and to get another ego-boost from a couple of hunks who she assisted with some aerobic positions.

She couldn’t wait to get home to share the news. Should she text Bob? No she would spoil him and then share the news. The rest of the day was a blur. What a dream! What an opportunity! This was more amazing to her than any dream.

2.5 Tom

The radio blared in the Service restaurant. Some indie crap Tom thought. The truck had been sluggish and he was about an hour behind schedule, but the fucking rules meant he had to take a break before he got to Preston and that meant an unavoidable turn off at Abington. On the road days on end he was used to eating in these places, snoozing in the cab and showering in the ‘pay as you go’ facilities. It wasn’t much of a life, but it did the job. He knew the places he liked and the services he didn’t and he worked his hours to fit in with Premier Inns and familiar local village stops, where the talent was better than the hairy arsed truckers he found surrounding him here.

The olive green paint followed the wall around over the canteen area. To the right there was a paper shop. No interest. Listening to the radio all day you don’t need to read about it, it’s repeated on the hour every hour.

Driving had always been a passion. Driving HGVs was more a status thing than anything and, of course, it gave him the cash to allow him to do what he loved: racing cars and riding girls. One day he heard through a mate that there was a real ride of a woman up in Dunfermline and he went to meet her – only to find out it was Aidrian's wife Monica. More than shocked he gave her the money and rode her. When he was done he picked up the money and walked out. She didn’t argue. The fact was she obviously felt guilty. So she should, but that wasn’t enough for Tom. He arranged to meet her again, and this time told her that this would continue until he decided it would stop. What could she do but agree? But he was never there and felt it was like unspent cash having her at his beck and call, but then being unable to use her as he would. She even seemed unable to see him when he wanted her which led him to the current situation. When she didn’t see him she had to pay him what she had charged him that first time, and it wasn’t cheap. She must be at it regular to be able to afford it, and he wouldn’t tell Aids – I mean it would look bad on her. So after a while he stopped pestering her and waited for the cash, and it continued to arrive. They didn’t even talk much now, but he had plenty cash to play with when he was away, so it was a means to an end.

The bacon butty cost £4.25, and wouldn’t have been worth two pound. Boredom. The waitress came by wearing a blue checked shirt and short skirt. What the hell. He got up from the unclean orange plastic table and followed the girl to the kitchen area.

‘Excuse me’ the girl turned. Pretty.

‘Do you want to earn 30 quid?’ The girl looked concerned.

‘Listen, I just think you look like a great girl and I was looking for some company’

He didn’t care if she wanted to or not. He would have her and legitimately too.

‘Nah, I don’t think so’, she turned away.

‘Sorry, darling. I didn’t want to upset you.’

‘OK’, she walked away from him.

‘200 quid. It’s my final offer.’ It must have sounded like desperation, but he knew she would have a price with her short skirt and working for pennies in a dump like this.

She paused.

‘OK, I’ll meet you in the car park’.

He would have to show her the money of course, so he made a point of taking out a sum of cash from the autoteller before placing it in his wallet. He glanced towards her as she cleaned another table and walked out towards the front of the building. He would have put a cigarette in his mouth just to prove how smooth he was, but it would spoil the few moments of pleasure he was about to enjoy with young nameless waitress from Abington or close by.

She followed as he knew she would, and he opened the cab door to allow her to come in to his den. The bed through the back was useful. Very useful. He moved his Gibson guitar onto the front seat and positioned himself around the back. She climbed in without any encouragement and went down so easily it was if she had done this before. The smell of money was too much for her but, after consenting, and moaning and sweating in the back of the cab for him, Tom would not be paying her a cent. He knew this and he lay back as she straddled him til orgasm. He had done this before and he would do it again.

2.6 Emma

The train was packed. The earlier train was cancelled and this meant she would have to run from Haymarket to get to the office in time for the interview. Fucking trains.

The sweaty, wet people created a musty smell and the trains were used so regularly they would never lose it she guessed. But this was what she wanted - a chance to get away from Fife and the familiar – an adventure with the other side, on the other side of the water.

The train crossed the Forth Bridge in all its glory, albeit the views were limited along the river by low cloud and heavy rain. Standing holding on to the luggage rack Emma became aware of two eyes staring at her from a raincoat clad man close by. Embarrassed by this eye contact she turned away, leg pressed against one of the luggage-rack legs. She rolled her hand down it to tidy her skirt, before realizing that it wasn’t the luggage rack at all.

Her eyes looked straight at the gentleman she had fondled. He seemed a little shocked, but quite happy.

‘I’m sorry’

‘Never worry’

She turned back towards the luggage rack as the train stopped at Dalmeny on the South side of the river. Few bodies got off, but more got on, and this time the people crammed around her. She thought of potential answers for the interview. Why she wanted the position. Why she would rather have a job which meant having to commute each day. Even without the pressure of the interview at this point she still found it difficult to answer them. She would never get it. The bodies were tight, but suddenly there was a tug at her waist, and a warmth across her midriff. A hand had appeared, straying from a coat sleeve. Emma's eyes looked up and around her. Many eyes were looking at the ceiling, or at books held high out of the way of the others. One set of eyes looked at her. They seemed kind, the man was mid twenties, with a boyish charm. Good bone structure.

‘Sorry’, he said.

‘Never worry’ Emma replied. The hand did not move. She gulped but found it hard not to stare at the blond gent who would not have looked out of place in a fashion magazine with his wide collar and purple sheen tie. The hand moved down to her waist and across the front of her skirt. His eyes were still on hers. The train had been moving, and was now stopping again just outside South Gyle. She could feel a strange nervous feeling within. Horror and delight in equal measure. The train headed off and the blond man continued to stare at her. The hand moved down across the top of her thigh, and rubbed for a second. She looked down to see the hand there. She looked up again quickly. The blond man had turned away. The hand remained. She pushed her hand down upon it and it moved quickly away as the people started bustling for position. The blond man followed his guide dog away, and Emma felt sick and squeezed into a seat which had been left by a passenger who had reached his stop.

Her heart beat quicker. What the hell was going on in the world? She had been attacked. Yet she did nothing. She was so disillusioned by Tom she almost wanted to be taken away. This wasn’t the way though. The job would be the way out.