by John Carson
‘I did. You can’t sneeze on the island without somebody knowing about it. But that sort of thing could happen to anybody. Accidents happen every day.’
Dunbar looked at Harry for a moment, before looking back at Nancy. ‘She was murdered, Mrs Shaw. Word is going to get out anyway.’
‘I heard it was an accident. Good God, that’s awful.’
‘When you’re a powerful family like the Wolf family, you make enemies,’ Harry said.
Nancy turned towards him. ‘I’m sure that’s true in every business, but they did so much for this island. They brought it to life. I have never heard a bad word said against them.’
‘Except by somebody called Joe Murphy,’ Dunbar said. ‘You know him?’
‘Joe? Yes. He runs the carnival. He comes here every year. He’s a big Irishman with a big temper. He likes a drink, naturally.’
‘You know where we can get hold of him?’
‘I’m not sure, but he’s always around. He runs a tight ship. Nobody messes with Joe. Has he done anything wrong?’
‘That’s what we want to establish. He was seen arguing in the pub with Clive Wolf recently.’
‘Clive was just like Joe – hot-headed. I did hear about that, but it sounded like something over nothing.’
‘What does he look like?’ Harry asked.
Nancy was about to say something when she nodded. ‘That’s Joe over there.’
The four detectives turned in the direction she was looking. A big man dressed in a checked shirt and jeans looked back at them.
They walked over to him. He stood a good four inches taller than Harry.
‘We’re with Police Scotland, MIT,’ Harry said.
‘Aye, I know who you fooking are. The whole island knows who you fooking are,’ Joe Murphy said.
‘Bad for business, are we?’ Dunbar said.
‘People get nervous when youse bastards are around. Even when they’ve done fook all.’
‘If you’ve done nothing, then there’s fuck all to be nervous about, is there? But we want to ask you about the night you had an argument with Clive Wolf in the pub.’
Joe Murphy laughed, his big head tilting back. ‘I wondered when the fook you would be round here busting me fooking balls about that. Well, let me tell you something, laddie.’ He poked a finger towards Dunbar’s chest and Evans stepped forward. Joe Murphy turned his attention to him. ‘You his wee terrier, son?’
‘The name’s DS Robbie Evans. Just so you won’t ever forget me.’
‘Is that right?’ Murphy laughed again. ‘Just like that wee fooking shite Clive Wolf thought he was a wee hard man. Back where I come from, we eat wee fookers like him for breakfast.’ He tried poking Evans in the chest, but Evans saw the move coming a mile off and grabbed the big, meaty appendage and twisted it, bending it back.
Murphy’s eyes went wide and he let out a screech.
Evans leant in close. ‘Back where I come from, your fucking face would be broken by now. Police Scotland might frown upon me smacking an old fucker like you, but they most certainly won’t frown upon me defending myself and just happening to break your finger into the bargain. In front of senior officers no less. So, if you want to carry on your shite, just try to fucking poke me again. Understand?’
The big Irishman was almost on his knees, almost looking like he was having a heart attack. Some people were looking at the tableau playing out before them but most couldn’t care less. It was almost as if this was a sideshow.
‘Yes!’ Murphy hissed through clenched teeth.
Evans let his finger go and the Irishman stood up. Harry thought for a moment he was going to go for it, but after spending years reading people’s body language, he knew Evans would have decked Murphy.
‘There, now that we’ve got that settled, neighbour,’ Dunbar said, ‘maybe you would like to give us your side of the story about the night you had a run-in with Clive Wolf, before we get a platoon of uniforms over from the mainland with a search warrant and we close this funland down for a week while we search it.’
Murphy was flushed and rubbing his finger. They suspected that if it had been anybody else who had bent his finger, there might have been more words said, but the prospect of losing a fortune if the carnival was shut down made him bite his tongue.
‘Clive Wolf was a regular in the Sunset Arms. It’s one of the better boozers on the island, where locals go to drink. I mean, it’s not the sort of place where you get rolled in the toilets of course, not like some of the shite I’ve been inside in Glasgow, but it’s where you can go and have a drink without being bothered by the tourists. There’re plenty of bars on the island where they can go, like the theme bars. Those shitey Irish places that are about as authentic as a three-pound coin. But anyway, Clive liked to frequent the Sunset Arms as well, and he was a pain in the arse when he got drunk.’
‘Who started the argument?’ Alex asked.
Murphy turned to her. ‘He did. Plenty of witnesses will tell you. Clive was an obnoxious wee bastard at times, and for some reason he was even more obnoxious that night. He hadn’t been right ever since his father died. It hit him hard, so people cut him some slack. But that night, I’d had too much to drink and he rubbed me the wrong way.’
‘Where we come from, that’s almost as good as a confession,’ Dunbar said.
‘Look, I didn’t kill the wee bastard. I never touched him. Yes, we had words, but it never got physical. I would have broken his fooking neck, but he wasn’t worth wasting my time on.’
‘Did you know where he lived?’
‘Of course I do. Everybody does. But I wouldn’t dirty me hands. I heard he was found in the old loch house.’
‘He was. Ever been there?’ Dunbar said.
‘No. Never set foot in the place.’
‘I’ll have an officer take your prints down at the station, just so we have a comparison.’
‘You what? That’s against me civil liberties.’
‘You want ruled out or not? Or do you still want us on your back?’ Harry said.
‘Fine. I’ll go down to the station tomorrow. But you’re wasting your time. I never touched Clive Wolf.’
‘Do you know Brian Gibbons?’ Dunbar asked.
‘I know him, yes. Why?’
‘He said he was talking to you this afternoon. Do you remember that?’
‘Of course I do. Do you think I’m daft?’
‘What time?’
‘How would I know? Early afternoon or something.’
The big man turned and walked away without looking back.
‘What do you think?’ Harry said.
‘I think he’s all piss and wind,’ Dunbar said. ‘I’m sure the bit about the argument was right, but they’re still lifting prints and when he gives us his, we’ll find out if he was telling the truth about being in there.’
He spotted somebody further ahead. ‘Muckle!’ he shouted.
McInsh was with his dog and a woman who was walking a Beagle on a leash.
‘Jimmy! This is my wife, Wilma. With Nessie.’
The woman smiled at them. ‘How do.’
Dunbar introduced them all before turning to Muckle. ‘Listen, son, I wanted a word if you don’t mind.’
‘Sure.’ Muckle turned to Wilma. ‘Be back in a sec, love.’ He walked away with Sparky and Dunbar.
‘You know I can’t ask you to go and look at those houses, but did you write down the addresses?’
‘I did.’ Muckle reached into a pocket and brought out a piece of paper. ‘Wouldn’t it be easier if I just showed you? I mean, I don’t have to go in. I could just bring the dog and wait outside.’
‘Aye, why don’t we do that. Where’s your pal tonight?’
‘He’s away off somewhere with his boyfriend.’
‘Have you decided what you’re going to do about a job?’
‘Nah. Not yet. I’ll leave the island, though. I’ve already told Wilma, and she’s quite happy for us to go back to the mainland. I’ve be
en giving some thought to starting up a wee investigation business on the mainland. Maybe Wee Shug will join me.’
‘You could always join the force again,’ Dunbar said.
‘Thanks, sir, but there are a lot of bastards still in uniform who shouldn’t be.’
‘We’re trying to weed them out. You and Shug would be fine. You could always work Govan again. My team are brand new.’
‘I’ll keep it in mind. First, though, let’s go and have a look at those places.’
They walked back to the group.
Harry was looking at the fairground rides. A rollercoaster, the waltzers, a ghost train ride. And all the little stalls in between. Coloured lights flashed more prominently in the descending darkness. Music filled the air, not just from the concert down the road, but the familiar chintzy music played in fairgrounds the world over.
He could hear a bingo caller shouting out the numbers. Carnies were encouraging the public to spend a fortune on a stuffed gonk. Throw a wonky dart at a playing card tacked to the wall. Knock metal cans down.
‘Brings back memories, eh?’ Alex said.
Harry didn’t hear her for a moment. ‘What? Oh, yeah. Good times. Chance had a great time at Burntisland. We could never get him off the wee fire engine that went round on a track with some other cars.’
‘Hopefully we can make some good memories too, with our own kids.’
He smiled and put a hand on hers. ‘We will. I promise.’
Dunbar walked back over. ‘I just had a call from Thomas Deal, the solicitor. He wants us to head over to the house. The boys have turned back up. With Brian Gibbons. There’s a ruckus going on.’
‘Let’s go.’
‘You want me to come up?’ Muckle asked.
‘Best not, my friend. Things could go south for you now that you’re not in an official capacity.’
‘You’ve got my number. Give me a shout if you need me. That Sergeant Turnbull is about as much use as an ashtray on a motorbike.’
Seventeen
Whatever had gone down in the house was now over.
‘I tried to tell them,’ Thomas Deal said. He was standing in front of the fire with a glass in his hand. ‘But what do I know?’
‘He started it!’ Brian Gibbons said, pointing to Fenton. ‘And I finished it.’
‘Finished what? Fucking twat,’ Fenton answered.
‘Let’s get you cleaned up,’ Missy Galbraith said. The solicitor’s assistant was fussing around like a mother hen. She was younger than any of them but acted twice her age. She handed Brian a damp cloth, then left the room.
‘Leave me alone,’ Brian said, holding a bloodied hanky to his nose.
‘Were you with Shona today before she died?’ Dunbar said to him.
‘I just went for a walk after she stormed off,’ Brian answered.
Fenton looked at him like he had two heads. ‘What did you say?’
Zach, who had been sitting in an armchair, jumped up. ‘Our sister’s dead?’
‘You haven’t heard?’ Harry said. ‘It’s all over the island. People start talking before we have a chance to talk to the family.’
‘Heard what? I didn’t hear anything.’ Fenton said. ‘Did he know?’ He pointed to Gibbons.
‘I’m sorry to say, we’re treating her death as suspicious,’ Dunbar said, ignoring the question.
‘What does that mean?’ Fenton asked.
‘It means we don’t think she died of natural causes.’ Harry explained where Shona had been found but not the exact circumstances.
‘Fucking murdered?’ Fenton looked at Brian. ‘Oh, you old, fat bastard. I knew my sister shouldn’t have married you.’ He took two steps towards the older man.
‘That’s enough!’ Dunbar said. ‘We need to talk to you all. Not Mr Deal, but you two, Fenton and Zachary. I want to know where you were today. You too, Mr Gibbons. I want to know exactly where you were before you went to the fairground.’
Fenton curled his lip. ‘Where were we? We were looking around at the houses our father left to us. Nothing more, nothing less. We had dinner in a little restaurant on the south island. Here,’ he said, fishing his wallet out of a pocket. He opened it up and took out a receipt. ‘You never know when somebody will screw you over, so I always keep the receipts until the credit card bill comes in.’
He passed it over and Dunbar looked at it. It was marked for a couple of hours previously.
‘What about you, Mr Gibbons?’ Dunbar said, handing the receipt back. ‘Where were you?’
‘I left Shona on the hill overlooking the fairground. Well, the new houses on the other side. I walked over to the fairground. The mobile phone reception is better there. I called for a taxi. I spoke to Joe Murphy like I already said, and then I came home. Where the two young detectives were waiting.’
‘The houses that you and my father are building,’ Zach said. ‘If you want to know who had a motive, it’s him! With Shona out of the way, the business is all his and he’ll get her money.’
Harry looked at the old solicitor. ‘Is that true? Did Shona leave a will?’
‘Even if she didn’t, he’d be entitled to it. But yes, they both have reciprocating wills. Brian will indeed inherit everything that was Shona’s, including her share of the hotel and the business.’ Deal drank some of the Scotch from the glass in his hand.
‘Dirty bastard,’ Fenton said.
‘Fenton!’ Deal said. ‘I have worked for your father and your family for a very long time. Long before you were born. I can assure you that nothing underhanded has ever been done. Every business deal your father made, every one that your grandfather made, was above board. I know for a fact that the housing deal he went into with Brian was legitimate. Shona knew of it, you and your brother knew of it. So why the accusations now?’
Harry was impressed by the old man’s outburst, silencing the two brothers.
‘I know, you’re right,’ Fenton said, ‘but this has got everybody shaken. Who would want to murder our brother and sister?’
‘Either somebody has a grudge or they stand to gain from it,’ Alex said. ‘If we can find somebody with either motive, then we can find our killer.’
‘Look, I know it doesn’t look good,’ Zach said, ‘us being out and about, but we’re not going to get anywhere turning on each other.’
‘That’s easy for you to say,’ Brian said, dabbing at his lip again. Missy came back in with another cloth.
‘This one has ice in it,’ she said, giving him the new one.
He crumpled the bloody tissue and put it in a pocket. ‘Thank you.’
‘The memorial is going ahead tomorrow?’ Dunbar said.
‘It is,’ Fenton said. ‘People are already here. They want to pay their last respects to my father. And now my brother and sister.’
‘The hotel is busy with his friends,’ said Deal. ‘I was talking with a few earlier, people I have known for many years. They said they were shocked to learn of Clive’s death, but they want to say a proper goodbye to Oliver. The ballroom is already set up.’
‘I suppose, under the circumstances, there’s no reason to postpone it. But I have to ask you not to leave the island,’ Harry said, looking at each member of the family in turn.
‘We hadn’t planned on leaving for another week,’ Fenton said. ‘We just wanted to see our houses, then make plans to rent them out. I don’t think any of us had planned to sell. Even Shona.’ He threw a look at Brian, but the older man was in too much pain with his rapidly swelling lip to give a comeback.
‘You know, son,’ Dunbar said, ‘for a doctor, you’re pretty aggressive.’
‘In my game, you have to be. I’m not aggressive to my patients.’
‘I should damn well hope not.’ Dunbar looked at Brian. ‘We’ll talk to Brendan. See if he remembers talking to you.’
‘Do that.’
‘However, if the fairground is on the other side of the hill,’ Harry said, ‘you could have killed Shona and then walked over.’
‘I swear to God I didn’t kill her.’
‘Don’t leave town, Mr Gibbons,’ Harry said. ‘We’ll talk again in the morning.’
Eighteen
Brendan Shaw was doing his stint as barman behind the Laoch Lodge’s bar.
‘Lounge bar at night, breakfast bar in the morning,’ he said with a smile. ‘What can I get you folks?’
Harry ordered a pint for himself and a Diet Coke for Alex. Evans had a lager and Dunbar had the same.
‘Put your money away, folks,’ Brendan said. ‘My mum says to look after you.’
‘Nonsense, son,’ Dunbar said, loosening his tie. ‘This is on Police Scotland. And you have a business to run. It’s not a charity you run.’
‘Unlike the Wolf family, eh?’ Brendan said, pouring the drinks.
‘What do you mean?’ Harry asked as Alex and Evans got a table.
‘Oh, nothing. I mean, Murdo Wolf made so much money, he created a foundation. He was a great philanthropist. So was Oliver. He strived to make the island the best it could ever be. No properties were ever run down or left in a state of disrepair. The hospital has the latest equipment and the schools are top class, even though we don’t have a ton of schoolkids. The ones we do have get the best education, with every one of them getting a scholarship to get a degree on the mainland. Aye, the Wolf family are tops.’
He handed over the pints and the Coke.
‘We saw your brother down at the fairground with your dad,’ Dunbar said.
‘Two peas in a pod, we are,’ Brendan said, grinning. ‘But I prefer to keep a bit more low key. Jack’s the showman. He loves enticing men to fight my dad. None of them have ever won, but I told Dad, one day some young Turk will come up there and knock your socks off. I wish he would retire, but he’s stubborn.’
‘It comes to us eventually,’ Dunbar said, waving Evans back over. ‘Grab a pint, son.’ Then he turned back to Brendan. ‘Do you remember talking to Brian Gibbons at the fairground this afternoon?’
‘Aye. I saw him there. I was having a wee wander around and bumped into him.’
‘When was this?’
‘Oh, early afternoon sometime. I don’t know the exact time.’