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 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 29th 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 29th 2007?”
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
