A Cool Head Part 6

'Then tell them to bring Don in. We'll have a few words with him, see what he has to say.'

George nodded. 'Meantime, what about Hanley?'

'I've not tracked him down yet. Might have to pay a house call.'

'He'll be bricking it.'

'To start with, yes. But eventually, he's going to start asking for the money again.'

'You'll get your money back, Stewart.'

'I know I will, little brother. I know I will.'

Bob Sanders has news for Jane Bob Sanders was on the phone to Jane again.

'Where are you?' he asked her.

'Just leaving the sc.r.a.pyard.'

'So a team turned up, then?'

'At long last, yes. Any news on Empson and his BMW?'

'No, but listen to this. A woman decided to call 999.'

'That is strange.'

'Her husband is Andrew Hanley. He's on the council. In fact, he's Head of Planning.'

'I'm with you so far.'

'Mr Hanley came home last night with blood on his shoes. Guess where he'd been?'

'Where?'

'Raymond's Garage.' Bob paused. 'For a meeting with Donald Empson and an unknown amount of cash.'

Jane whistled. 'Is he hurt?'

'His wife doesn't think so. He told her the blood was paint.'

'So if he's not hurt, and Empson's not hurt, we're still one short.'

'And Benjamin Flowers still hasn't put in an appearance. Maybe Mr Hanley can fill us in.'

'Where is he now?'

'Well, according to his wife, he fled the house when she confronted him. I'm guessing it may tie in with some other calls we've been getting about a man, no jacket and no shoes, running h.e.l.l for leather through Murison Park.'

'Is a patrol car on its way there?'

'Yes.'

'What would I do without you, Bob?'

'Save a fortune on confectionery,' he answered.

Don Empson is in trouble Sam and Eddie were hungry. They were almost always hungry. That was why they'd pulled into a lay-by on the ring road. There was a snack van parked there. Don Empson could smell fried onions.

'Best burgers in the city,' Eddie had said. Despite which, Don had said he wasn't hungry. He swallowed another three pills instead, washing them down with water from a bottle. His stomach was on fire. 'Try to keep your stress levels down at work,' the doctors had advised. Some chance. He'd bought the water when they'd stopped for petrol. He had tried phoning his police contact again, but Connolly hadn't picked up. Dead ends, everywhere he looked.

He hoped Benjy was holed up somewhere and being looked after. It was Don's own fault. The boy had never been right for the job. There had always been little plans and notions, quick-money schemes. More than once, Don had covered his nephew's backside. There were gambling debts, poker games gone wrong. And expensive girlfriends to go with that flash car he drove. Weekends in five-star hotels. Wrong, all of it.

Don's own fault.

The best he could hope for was to get the money back p.r.o.nto, then try to smuggle Benjy out of the country. That was the only option, or else he was dead meat. This was what Don was thinking as he stared out through the windscreen. Sam and Eddie were chomping their way through the burgers, kicking at stones, laughing about something. Not a care in the world, so it seemed. When Don's phone rang, he reached into his pocket for it.

He was wrong.

Not his phone, hers hers. He reached into his other pocket. He didn't recognise the number on the screen. He knew better than to answer, his voice might scare off whoever was on the other end. Instead, he let the phone ring. And when it stopped, he waited until the screen told him he had 1 Missed Call.

Followed a few moments later by 1 New Message.

Don punched the numbers and pressed the phone to his ear. It was Celine Watts' voice. She was calling her own phone.

'Donna?' she began, meaning her cousin, obviously. 'Look, I hope you get this. Your own phone's out of credit. Sorry I ran off like that, but I just want you to know I'm all right. I've got to get away for a bit, that's all. Came into some cash, too, but relax, I'll see you get some.' Don's fingers tightened around the phone. He knew whose money it was. 'Anyway, just wanted you to know. I'll call you again, once I know where I'm going. Take care.' An electronic voice replaced Celine's, 'Message ends.' Don stared at the phone's screen and then punched some numbers in, the same numbers that had come up when Celine made the call.

A switchboard answered. 'Mansion Park Hotel, how may I direct your call?'

Don thought about that question for a second. Then he decided. 'I just need your address,' he said, slapping his hand against the horn, letting Sam and Eddie know playtime was over. But Sam was holding up one finger. He had a call of his own and needed to answer it. He spoke a couple of words, then did a lot of listening. Not that Don Empson noticed, he was too busy jotting down the details of the hotel.

When Sam got back into the driving seat, first thing he said was, 'We've got to head back to base.'

'No way,' Don argued. 'I've just got Celine Watts' address.'

'Really?'

'Yes, really. And it means we're going to Edinburgh.'

Sam seemed to hesitate. 'Boss wants us back home.'

Don was shaking his head. He took out his own phone and punched in Gorgeous George's number, started talking as soon as the call was answered.

'George, I know where Celine Watts is, and I think she's got the bag.'

There was silence for a moment. 'Is that a fact, Don?'

George didn't sound right somehow. Don found himself frowning. 'What's the matter?' he asked.

'You're coming back here, Don. Few questions that need answering.'

Don's heart sank. 'Look, George, I can fix this. Really I can.'

'So where's the money?'

'Mansion Park Hotel in Edinburgh. Celine Watts has it.'

'Have you been drinking, Don?'

'Her name and address were in my car. Guy called Gravy ended up with it and thought Watts had to be a friend of . . .' Don choked back the final word.

'Friend of Benjy's?' George said.

'Yes,' Don muttered. The truth was finally out.

'You saying this was his idea and not yours?' George was asking.

'It's nothing to do with me!'

'The boys will bring you back here, Don, and we can sort it all out.'

Don didn't know what to say to that. George was asking him to pa.s.s the phone to Sam. He did as he was told. He could hear what George was saying. They were to take Don to a pub George owned. Put him in the cellar. Keep an eye on him. George would be along later. 'Just as soon as I've checked out his story.'

Sam started the car. 'Something you want to tell us?' he asked Don, pa.s.sing his phone back to him. Don pocketed it.

'Not your business, lads. But Celine Watts most definitely is. I thought you'd want her stopped. She's on the run, with a wedge of cash. If we don't set off after her right now . . .'

'That's not what the boss wants, Don.'

'He isn't always right, you know.'

Sam nodded slowly. 'All the same . . .'

All the same, Don knew which way the car would go. They were heading back towards Glasgow and a showdown.

Chapter Eleven.

Jane and Bob Share Information Patrol cars were on the hunt for George Renshaw. His usual lawyer had been told that the police wanted a word. But Jane knew that if Renshaw wanted to disappear, he would find it easy, in the short term at least.

She was back at the station. Andrew Hanley was in an interview room. He'd been reluctant to say anything, until told about the blood-stained shoes and the damage to his car. It would be a simple enough matter to match any flecks of paint to the car he'd reversed into on the garage forecourt. Then there was the newspaper with the meeting jotted down on it.

'I want to talk to my solicitor,' Hanley had stated, head in hands, a cold cup of coffee on the table in front of him.

'Your wife's in the next room, Mr Hanley. Do you want a word with her too?'

Bob and Jane met in the corridor. They had big smiles for one another.

'I'm going to be w.i.l.l.y Wonka by the end of this,' Bob said. Jane patted his arm.

'We're not out of the woods yet.'

'No, but we're getting there.' He held up a slip of paper. The list of tasks she had given him. 'Initial forensic report, same fingerprints on the Bentley and the car in the graveyard. Probably Don Empson's, but that'll take a bit longer to confirm. Blood and brain matter on one wing of the Bentley, Raymond's, I'm pretty sure. And by the way, the Bentley's owner's not too happy with the valet job.'

Jane smiled and folded her arms, knowing there was more to come. Bob checked his list again.

'Blood in the graveyard is the same group as one of the pools in the garage. Again, we're waiting for a DNA match.'

'But no blood in the graveyard car?'

'No.'

'And none inside either the Bentley or Benjamin Flowers' abandoned sportster?'

Bob shook his head. 'But Benjy's employer says he's gone AWOL.'

'Our wounded gunman? Missing, along with some cash and Empson's BMW.'

'Find one and we probably find all three.'

'What about this guy who works at the graveyard, how does he fit in?'

Bob shrugged. 'Maybe he doesn't. But a pound to a penny says it comes down to Stewart Renshaw.'

Jane's eyes narrowed. 'How so?'

'Word is, he's got a new casino looking for planning permission.'

'Has he now?' Jane thought for a moment. 'But he's on the straight and narrow, isn't he?'

'We've never had proof to the contrary, if that's what you mean.' Bob pursed his lips.

'Well, well.' Jane folded her arms, deep in thought. 'Hanley goes to the garage to pick up a bribe. It goes wrong somehow.'

'Somebody got greedy.'

'Benjamin Flowers?' She nodded slowly. 'I'd still like to get my hands on Don Empson,' she said.

'You need to be patient.'

She stared at him. 'Meaning what?'

'Meaning putting the team to work. Stake out anywhere George Renshaw or Don Empson might turn up. At least one of them's got to be on the hunt for Benjy, and my guess would be Empson.'