Hunt Hunted Murder Murdered (5 page)

2.7 Simon

The College corridors gleamed behind Spiv. A job well done. The 50 metres or so which faced him were like the Wall of China awaiting a coat of paint. The students cared not for his job. Many students treated him like shit, lower than a piece of shit even. One spat at his feet. His reaction was sudden. He had been provoked. That’s all that saved him from the sack. If he lost this job he wouldn’t get another – it would be the start of the rocky road to ruin. He was quite capable of doing that even with a job. He drank far too much, smoked like a chimney, and drugs were a recreation he partook of too often. Being around students made it too easy to be presented with opportunities.

He dipped the mop into the bucket - the cleaner’s duty. He was the janitor, but what with cut backs the Facilities manager gave him the ultimatum. Do it or leave. No option really.

Still, the hours suited and it was only a couple of hours until he would enjoy a few pints in the Union bar, before heading up the town to spend his earnings in the pub again – reliving past footballing glories with Kelty Hearts and the time he was given trials with Dunfermline. Too old now to dream about it. Injury put paid to it, but realistically it would never have happened. He didn’t have the head or heart for it. Too intent on self destruction on and off the pitch, too many brushes with the wrong side of the law and a marked man in the toun. Happy to stay below the parapet, but he still got his thrills when he could. A sly snog and fondle with a fresher for a few years - until he met Pam. Even then it didn’t stop him being entirely faithful. But it was as close as dammit for Spiv.

Spiv had secrets. He was friends with all the guys, including Dev. In fact he was probably closer to Dev at the end than anyone. But then again that wasn’t a surprise.

About 18 months before Simon Deuchar’s dad had told him a secret. He had told him that Dev Coulding was his brother. Simon didn’t know what to do about this. In fact it seemed pointless doing anything, but it was becoming more and more difficult when he was out – because every time Dev was there he felt it would come out. But why shouldn’t it?

Pointless now. Simon's dad died a couple of months after Dev of lung cancer. A slow lingering death, ending abruptly one night when Spiv found him choked on blood pouring out of his mouth. Horrific find and another reason why Spiv kept drinking and smoking. To forget about it all. Now he was alone in the world...

Except for Pam. Sweet little Pamela who had come onto the scene 2 years ago and been actively involved ever since. Times with her were the only special times and she even adjusted just to make sure he was OK. She was innocent. She was good. She was his judgment and his life. She had helped him out so much during the time his dad was really ill and, obviously, when Dev had been killed.

The mop sploshed along the wall. Pools of dirty water falling and then soaking up again. It looked cleaner, but was it? Who cared? The good thoughts turned away again, and Spiv looked across at 2 student girls in their hockey uniforms coming closer.

‘Mind yer feet ladies’.

They smiled at him. He was handsome after all and could be a gent.

One of the girls slipped slightly. Spiv held her arm to prevent a fall.

‘I did warn you’.

‘My hero’, the giggling girl laughed, before walking on.

‘Maybe you can repay me later’, Spiv called on.

The girl disappeared from view before a muted shout of ‘Maybe’ came through.

Still got it!

2.8 Pam

The lecture hall was half empty. Those that remained were wrapped up warm. These halls were murder in the winter months. So scarves and gloves were like personal protection. The subject was commercial law. The literature was dry. The questions would be fairly simple to gain a good score for, and it would certainly help her as she progressed into business. She didn’t see herself becoming a court lawyer. Perhaps commercial or contracts manager for a big firm, with a good salary and big benefits and less stress and no need to work the longest of hours.

The lecture would be followed by a trip to the library to follow up with the correct notes and to ensure that she had the head start on the rest of the class. Perfection was not easy, but she had lived up to this all her life and was not going to stop now.

When Dev was killed she had blipped. It was her first blip and it really hurt. She dropped to a B grade for the semester and didn’t know what was happening as her focus diminished and her thoughts and principles changed in importance. It was a huge blow losing Dev. He had been fairly supportive of her, although he had tried it on with her originally. However she had turned to him for help when she found herself pregnant not 3 months after getting together with Simon. Simon still didn’t know about the abortion. With Dev gone he never would.

She could not believe the stories that came out about Dev after his death. Pam had been working with the Ingram's P/T, living in the Crook Inn to pay the rent, and it was working out well. After young Ollie disappeared she helped a little more than usual, to the point that her grades suffered. The police really attacked her when the bodies were found. She had a direct link to both victims. But there was never any motive with either. Still she hid the truth about Dev though, to protect herself and to make sure she didn’t lose Simon. She was only 17 then, still a girl herself, but so much in love.

The night of the treasure hunt she had been with Simon, but left early to go back for her shift. When she had got to the Crook Inn the place was in uproar. Ian Ingram had shot off looking for some bloke who he thought had Ollie. Everyone was agitated and trying to work it out. Pam took over at the bar. Next thing the police were there, and Pam had to tell Simon of the news. By this time he was back at the bar with Bob and Marie and the others. No Dev, but Simon just said that Dev was always last. Bob and Marie had sent him up to Kinross Market with his clue. So why he ever came into the Crook, or ended up with Ollie….

The Crook closed for a few weeks and with all the questioning Pam couldn’t stay. Initially they all supported her, and then they attacked her too. When it was discovered that she had a direct link to Dev – who it appeared had killed Ollie, the shock set in, and it was all a blur. But it was the right decision for her to get out, and a place in the halls of residence at Halbeath was granted by the College. It was all huge news. Children just don’t get kidnapped and murdered around here. People don’t get bludgeoned to death because of it. Not in these parts. Not here.

The lecture notes that the students were all waiting for were finally distributed. The time lost to the lecture may be minimal but the time it gives you to go over things in your head can be priceless. Or costly. Depending on how you look at it.

Pam leaned on her elbow looking down at the lecture hall. She would think again about her Simon. Her love. Positive mental attitude takes her and Simon away to sunnier climes, holding hands, bathing in the sea, a marriage maybe….

3

The murder mystery would take more organising than they thought, but Bob had worked out that the money saved by drinking the booze his friends would bring might offset the food costs - certainly if his contact came through with the cheap meat cuts he had offered – and that’s why Bobs nose was pressed to the front window now. Wednesday morning. He had left before Marie so not to have to tell her about his job loss…. Hoping that a news article on industry cutbacks could allow him to pretend it was normal redundancy. When he came home he had wandered down Primrose Lane, just to make sure her car sat in the Gym car park. Then he could go home to the quiet of the house. And here he sat. Waiting.

Everyone had agreed to come on Saturday. It would give them all a chance to enjoy themselves. To reminisce. To get so drunk that they would talk freely about Dev. To go over the letters Aid had been getting. To go over what happened that night. They had not spoken about it all together. They had each had to speak with the police that night and subsequently, but it was mainly informal and, as the evidence was so pointed towards Dev, and then to Ian Ingram, there had been little point in flogging a dead horse. From dead horses to prime cuts, a silver grey car pulled up to complete one of today’s non-work related tasks.

His mind reverted to the letters. Aid was worrying about them. That they seemed to insinuate. They appeared to question what was already known to the police. Bob had had time to look into this. He had to be out of the house if Marie came back, and he had to do something other than drink and gamble…or she would find out his situation… so maybe it was about time to find out what the hell was going on. He had only one lead and that was a PO Box in Glasgow. Bob grabbed his jacket off the banister, locked the front door, and moved through the hall to the back kitchen. A horn sounded.

Spiv had brought his red convertible sports car to the back door as requested. Top up of course. Bob shut the back door to his house and jumped the waist high back garden fence. Then, as a guilty knot festered in his stomach, he looked back along Primrose Lane towards the Gym. A silent sigh came out as he ambled into the passenger seat.

‘Aright mate’

Spiv looked through his redundant shades, revved hard in first and with wheels spinning took off, narrowly avoiding a collision with a Vauxhall Corsa whose driver cursed as Bob glanced back.

‘Woah there Lewis, lets get there in one piece’, said Bob slinging on his seatbelt

‘So what’s all this about?’ Spiv looked at Bob, although he should have been concentrating on the road.

‘I’ll tell you in a minute. Watch the road’

‘It’s fine. What letters has Aids been getting then? Formal letters?’

‘Looks that way. I just want to see where they were sent from, as the postal return is to a PO box at Bar L rather than an address. Strange though. Seems to be authentic.’

‘Isn’t that where most police stuff would come from though?’

‘Maybe. But why not addressed to a person. Like the Inspector or someone.’

A pause follows, Spiv silent in thought, Bob concentrating on the road and clenching the door handle as the car took another tight bend.

‘Do you think that Aids has anything to do with Dev's murder?’ Spiv blurted this out, but to Bob it appeared like a random rambling.

He hadn’t given it a moment’s thought.

‘No. Of course not. I guess it’s just admin - stuff they didn’t write up at the time’

Spiv didn’t seem convinced.

‘Maybe he thinks Ian Ingram didn’t do it’

‘Spiv. The man’s in jail.
I
think he did it – he was found battering in Dev’s skull with a torch handle!’ An uncomfortable silence.

‘I guess…. What a fuckin caper’, Spiv sped up as the roundabout appeared, and he flew across, inside wheel clipping the kerb as he did.

The road to Kincardine seemed like a quicker route to the Central Post Office in Glasgow, than attempting the Forth Road Bridge. Despite the removal of tolls it still seemed better to take a chance on the bridge further up the river - less likelihood of congestion. Bob wondered how Spiv would have coped if they were prevented from moving at warp speed on this journey. Spiv continued to fly along the road overtaking various ‘law abiding’ road users.

The sun shone low in the sky and Bob wished he had Spiv's sunglasses shielding his eyes from the glare as it poured in through the front windscreen.

‘I just dinnae ken why they are picking on Aids now? Do you think he knows more than he admitted to last year?’ Spiv's concern was obvious.

‘What do you mean by that?’

‘Mebbe he knows more now than he did then, and mebbe he has spoken or written to someone, and has to make out that its THEM that have contacted HIM’

Bob, a little confused, just grunted agreeably. But what could Aids know? Why would he contact anyone?

‘I don’t think so Spiv. I think Aids is as worried about this as you or me.’

‘So what’s he going to do about it?’

Bob felt the letter in his jacket pocket. He would tell Spiv, but not yet.

‘I guess he’ll just answer the questions again, just as they ask.’

The letter in Bobs pocket was written by Aidrian in response to the questions he had been asked. It was addressed to “Letter ID 234.22.178.II, PO Box 84, Glasgow, G1”. This was the address they were going to check out and then they would know if the questions were serious.

“Please give further explanation regarding the events of the night of Jan 29
^th
2007 - the night that Dev Coulding was found dead.

- We would often play these games. There was nothing unusual about the night. The game required couples to look for the clues. Dev Coulding was the only ‘team’ with just one member. I was with my partner Monica. The game started and ended at the Seven Kings pub.

Can you confirm the names of all those who were involved in the ‘Treasure Hunt’ game being played that evening.

- Aidrian Burgess, Monica Delaney, Robert Reilly, Marie Smith, Simon Deuchar, Pamela Watters, Tom McAndrew, Emma McAndrew

Can you confirm who wrote the clues for the Treasure Hunt and who issued the clues to the individuals involved in the game?

- The clues were written up by each of us. One per couple. You just made sure that no-one took the clue they made up themselves. The couples took one each and the game began. The game started at seven so if anyone was late we left the clue at the bar. Dev was last in, but this time he got the clue off the table. This was discussed at the time of the investigation and can be confirmed by all the others who were there as recorded in question above.

Can you confirm where you were and who you were with on the day prior to, and evening during, the treasure hunt game on Jan 29
^th
2007?”

3.1 Aid and Mon

Aidrian held onto Mon’s hand. She smiled at him. He held tight, and she rubbed the top of his hand gently.

They made their way down Bruce Street towards the Abbey, where they expected to find the second clue.

'Love you Mon'

'Love you too'. They snuggle together and walked across the cobble street. The street lights shone off the wet ground and Aidrian pulled his jacket collar up to keep out the cold. Monica shivered, and they released hands. Aidrian put his arm around her and they walk on.

His financial worries were troubling him. He had gambled away too much of their holiday fund. Mon hadn't found out yet.

'Mon'

'What is it with you tonight?'

'Nothing. Why?'

'Are you OK?' Monica turned Aidrian to look at her hazel eyes, moist with the cold air.

Aidrian held her hands and then pulled her close to him.

'Nothing. I'm just so happy to be with you. You know. I never say. Sometimes I just think I don't say it enough'.

'Aw, hon'. She smooched Aidrian, and they kissed for a moment.

'Yeah. I'm a lucky man'.

They crossed the road again to the cemetery gate. Aids held it open for Monica and they walked in. The dark eerie feeling was lost to some football chants from nearby, as some smokers stood about outside the Gillie's pub. The clue had led them here.

'Where Bruce can be seen, the bench is warmed

Across from Thomas Anderlund'

There were only 4 benches in the Abbey grounds where you could see the 'Bruce' writing on top of the Abbey turret. The next clue would be on one of these - near to the gravestone of Thomas Anderlund they surmised.

Aidrian glanced at his watch.

'You late for something?' Mon grabbed his coat, 'or someone?'

'No. Nothing. Just habit', Aidrian was nervous of his work situation, and this made him fidget frequently. He knew that it would all come out sooner or later. Or maybe it wouldn't, but the guilt was killing him.

'Thomas Anderlund...' Sure enough the gravestone was found across from a statue of a large bird, the peacock, which had been given the freedom of the town.

'There's the clue'. A paper envelope was stuck onto a tin under the wooden bench.

'Its a bloody tin of beans, Choice Beans...'

'Well open the clue. The sooner we get back to the pub the better and the warmer.' Mon rubbed her hands together, breathing out white air.

"Where do you think I came from? A little way away,

Did you think we'd let you get back to the pub first today?"

'Bastards! Who made up these clues?'

'I need the loo', Monica did a little dance, bouncing from foot to foot.

'Bastards', Aidrian threw the beans at the bucket.

'That'll be Farm foods. That’s miles away'.

'Can we go to the pub first?'

'Yeah, sure. Come on.'

They made their way out of the cemetery, leaving the Abbey basking in darkness and dripping with icy cold raindrops from earlier. They held hands and walked off towards the pub.

'Listen. You get the drinks in and I'll run up and back'

'You sure?' Monica wasn't really up for another cold walk tonight.

'Yeah. I need the exercise and you look awfy cold'

'I love you', she kissed him, and walked off down in the direction of the Glen gates.

'Hurry up, mind'

'Sure. Sure.'

Aidrian's large frame ran off up Bruce Street.