by John Carson
‘I’ve not got a clue. Hold on, I’m at the hotel. Missy Galbraith asked me to come along, in case there was any trouble.’
‘I thought you didn’t work for the Wolf family anymore?’
‘I heard what happened last night. This is just a favour for her. Hold on, I’ll see if she knows.’
Dunbar could hear muffled talking and then Muckle came back on the line. ‘She says she’s never been to it, and it isn’t part of the will or anything, but it’s an old house belonging to the Wolf family, right enough. It’s called Hillside. But get this: it was an asylum.’
‘An asylum?’ Dunbar looked at Harry and made a face.
He could hear Muckle being spoken to again. Then the man came back on the line.
‘Aye. It wasn’t just an asylum. It was a proper wee hospital, but it had a small psychiatric wing. The new hospital opened, and services transferred there, but Murdo Wolf kept his wife locked up. She’d had a breakdown and he kept her there, with staff looking after her. It was closed after his wife died. It’s been closed up for years now and never reopened. Not since Murdo died.’
‘Thanks, pal.’ Dunbar cut the call and told the others what Muckle had just told him. ‘Seems old Missus Wolf was the sole psychiatric patient in that big hoose. It was a hospital.’
‘There has to be a road somewhere nearby,’ Harry said.
‘Up there, on the right,’ Evans said, looking back down at his phone.
‘Your eyes are sharp,’ Dunbar said from the back seat. ‘Despite your mother telling you you’ll go blind one day.’
‘I have Google Maps up on my phone.’ Evans added something under his breath.
‘What was that?’
‘Blind and deaf,’ Evans said to Alex as she turned the car onto the narrow road.
‘I bloody well heard that, though.’ Dunbar resisted the urge to smack Evans on the back of the head. ‘This better be right. Bloody Maps. Give me a good old road map any day. What do you say, Harry?’
‘I don’t know, Jimmy, these things are kind of handy on your phone.’
‘Until you can’t get any bars or your phone dies. Aye, exactly. I don’t hear a peep out of any of you.’
The gates were across the road and nature had started to take the hillside back. Trees and bushes lined the path, and the tarmac had long since given up trying to keep itself together. Big cracks allowed weeds to creep through.
Alex stopped and they sat looking at the gates.
‘They’re not going to bloody open themselves,’ Dunbar said.
Alex and Evans got out and walked up to the wrought-iron gates. Evans lifted the iron peg that was keeping one of the gates closed, and it slid up easily. He moved the gate in and it offered no resistance. Alex moved the other one.
‘No, no, that’s alright, we got it,’ Evans said, getting back in the car.
‘Good, because I had no intention of lifting my arse off this seat,’ said Dunbar.
Alex grinned as she got back behind the wheel. The tyres crunched over broken tarmac and what looked like either small bushes or huge weeds.
‘Seriously, though, boss, that gate moved like it was opened every day. I was expecting to have to shove it hard, but it almost glided.’
The road went through a canopy of trees for almost a quarter of a mile before breaking out into a wide driveway. There was an old car park over on the right, empty now except for more weeds. It had been mostly gravel at one time before the greenery got hold of it.
The house was on three levels with a tower on the left-hand side, poking through the trees. More modern wings had been tacked on to the side, extending it.
Dunbar took his phone out, but once again the bars had disappeared. ‘Christ, why are we paying so much every month for service that’s little better than two cans and a piece of string?’ he said.
Alex stopped the car in front of the main doors, and they got out. Miraculously, none of the windows were broken, except one, where a branch had been blown through it. Apparently, Laoch didn’t have an abundance of vandals. Or maybe they just didn’t want to come up to the old asylum.
There were old lampposts, but Harry doubted they were working. Why would they waste electricity lighting up an old building that had been abandoned for years?
‘I wonder why this place wasn’t mentioned by any of the Wolf brats?’ Harry said as Alex and Evans wandered off to one side.
‘Who knows?’ Dunbar said. ‘Maybe they’re just embarrassed by this place. But it will get sold anyway. If anybody wants to buy an old asylum.’
‘If this was Edinburgh, it would have been torn down by now and flats built on it.’
‘Look over here,’ Harry said. He walked over to an iron gate set into a stone wall. It opened easily. He and Dunbar walked through into a small cemetery. There were only a few headstones in the small area. Harry stopped in front of a small row.
‘Oliver Wolf and his wife,’ Dunbar said.
‘And Murdo Wolf. They must have put the stone up while he was still alive. There’s no death date. And his wife next to him.’
‘They’ll be able to add the death date now, Harry.’
Harry nudged Dunbar. ‘Look at the names. Murdo and Oliver.’
Dunbar looked at what Harry was pointing to and then he understood. They walked back out.
‘See this!’ Alex said, waving them over.
Harry and Dunbar walked over to where the new addition was attached to the old house. Alex pointed to an old sign that was sitting on the ground outside a set of double doors. Harry read it out loud.
‘Accident and Emergency.’ He looked at the others. ‘This was the original Laoch hospital right enough.’
‘Until they built the new one down on the south island,’ Alex said.
‘Which must have been before Murdo’s wife died. She was the only one in here at the time.’
‘I wonder how true that is,’ Dunbar said. ‘You know how rumours spread.’ Again he gave Evans a look, and the younger detective just shook his head and looked away.
‘I wonder why he didn’t just move his wife down there?’ Harry said.
‘Maybe it was embarrassing for Murdo to admit his wife had mental health problems,’ Dunbar said. ‘It was all about appearances with the Wolf family. Like Oliver wanting his daughter to be married, even if it was to the Hunchback of Notre Dame.’
‘It would make sense for him not to do anything with this place if he was grieving,’ Alex said.
‘I wonder how long she’d been dead before he died?’ Evans said.
‘Didn’t old Deal say the wife died a few months before Murdo?’ Dunbar said.
‘I think so,’ Harry replied.
The windows were filthy and it was clear nobody had been here in a long time. They walked down the side of the hospital until they were at the back.
‘I think we should get back down, neighbour,’ Dunbar said.
‘Hold on a minute, Jimmy,’ Harry said.
‘What are you thinking, Harry?’
‘It was when we were up at the other house. I saw a plane coming in to land again. I followed the line of sight from the airport, then the line that Murdo, or his killer, might have taken. Being a small aircraft, it could have landed almost anywhere, if he could find a piece of flat land.’
‘That’s true, but we might never know where he landed.’
Harry turned to look at Dunbar. ‘Let’s think about what we know about that night. It was snowing like it was the Arctic, according to Thomas Deal. Yet Murdo took off in it. Because the airstrip had been cleared.’
‘Okay.’
‘It was bucketing down with snow and visibility was bad. The killer wouldn’t risk flying around trying to find somewhere to land in the heavy snow.’
‘Agreed.’
‘He had to know where to land in advance. It was somebody who knew this island like the back of his hand. Somebody who knew where a makeshift airstrip was.’
Harry swept one arm open and they all turned to
look at the back lawn of the hospital. A long, flat area of grass.
‘Now it’s overgrown, but thirty-five years ago it would have been a well-kept lawn.’
Dunbar looked at Evans. ‘Go with Alex and get Muckle. And his big fuckin’ dug. Get him to come up here and bring some uniforms. I want this place searched.’
‘Got it, boss.’
The two sergeants ran back to the car and jumped in, then threw gravel as they sped away.
Harry watched the car until it disappeared. Then he looked at the road.
‘There’s something bothering me,’ he said, walking right round the back of the building.
‘What’s that, neighbour?’
‘That road we came up. The gates make the entrance narrow.’
‘They do.’
‘So where did the delivery trucks come in? And was that the ambulance entrance? I mean, this place wasn’t like Edinburgh on a Friday night, I’m sure, but remember the fairground was here and our landlady at the hotel, Nancy, told us that this island is jumping with tourists.’ Harry looked around. ‘This hospital needed to have the Accident and Emergency because of the sheer number of visitors. I’m sure it was pretty busy, just like I’m sure the new one is busy, especially in the summer.’
‘I’m following you,’ Dunbar said. ‘There has to be a service road. Big enough to take delivery trucks.’
‘Correct.’
They reached the back of the big house, where a large extension had been added. Although the road was overgrown, it could still be made out.
‘There it is.’
‘Which means they could bring big vehicles in here. Including a snow plough. The hospital was already closed on the day that Murdo was murdered, so maybe the killer came up here and ploughed it in preparation.’
Dunbar nodded. ‘Where would he have put the plane? I mean, he could have left it out in the open, but this killer is a planner. I don’t think he would have risked just leaving the plane in view. He would have hidden it.’
‘That’s what I would have done. Then he could have come back and flown it out.’
‘That would have been risky, neighbour. Even if he waited until spring, there was a chance of him being spotted. Not to mention popping up on radar. I know he flew in here under the radar, but that’s not to say he wouldn’t have been spotted by another plane. If I was him, I would have hidden it.’
‘Me too. Then I would have dismantled it, bit by bit.’
They looked around and started walking away from the hospital, further along what they now thought of as the airstrip. There was a small copse of trees at the end. The grass was overgrown around it, but the service road followed the edge of the airstrip and bent round the edge of the copse.
Then they saw them. The outlying buildings. Sheds. And a garage with a double door. It was old, made of wood, but it was in decent enough condition. The glass panels had been covered with wood from the inside. Hidden from view by the trees and vegetation; more aesthetic for the patients.
‘It’s locked,’ Harry said, trying the handle that would have opened one of the doors outwards. Dunbar looked round the side.
‘There’s a solid door there, but it’s locked tight.’
The building was large and looked like it could have stored a few double-decker buses, never mind gardening equipment and a snow plough.
‘There has to be a way in,’ Harry said.
‘Let me look round the other side.’ Dunbar walked away and disappeared from view, and just for a moment, Harry had an uneasy feeling. He followed in Dunbar’s footsteps and turned the corner.
Dunbar wasn’t there.
‘Jimmy?’
Then Dunbar poked his head out from a doorway. ‘Apparently, this door swings open and some bastard kicked it in.’ He rubbed his knee and made a face. ‘Where’s young Robbie when you need him?’
Harry walked up and couldn’t see much in the gloom. He took his phone out, but the little flashlight didn’t illuminate much inside beyond the shaft of light pouring in from the doorway.
They stepped further in and their eyes adjusted more to the darkness.
Old machinery was piled everywhere. An old truck with a Leyland badge on the front sat facing the double doors. It had once been red, but it looked old and rusty now, like it had bled out and died a long time ago. It had a flat bed and old machinery was piled on it. A snow plough was over to one side and they could see the attachment on the front of the truck where the plough would have been put on in the winter.
‘Bingo,’ Dunbar said.
‘This looks like it. Maybe the Wolf family bought it from the local council to keep their airstrip clear in the winter. Who knows?’
They walked round the side of the truck, where there was more scrap metal. It was like a scavenger’s dream come true. There was a pathway between the junk and they walked back into the darkness, which wasn’t totally pitch black. They could see a tarpaulin stretched over the top of something.
Harry looked down and saw the front wheel sticking out, its tyre flat. He nudged Dunbar.
‘I think we just found Murdo Wolf’s plane.’
They walked tentatively past the metal junk, careful not to tear their clothes or their skin. The whole place smelled musty and oily.
Junk had been placed on the wings, maybe in a clumsy attempt to disguise its shape should anybody ever have a quick peek in here, but it was obvious what it was up close.
Another tarpaulin covered the cab. Harry squeezed by some old machines and reached out to grab hold of the plastic sheet and he pulled.
Two faces stared back at them.
Twenty-Six
Zachary and Fenton Wolf looked back at them with dead eyes. Both of them had had their heads split open with what Harry could only imagine was a hammer.
‘Jesus Christ, all the Wolf kids are dead,’ Dunbar said, looking back at the plane.
‘Not quite,’ said a figure from the shadows.
‘What the hell are you doing here?’ Harry said to Crail Shaw.
‘What do you think, Harry?’ Dunbar said. ‘The bastard’s come to finish off the job.’
Boxer smiled in the darkness. Harry took a step towards him, the flashlight from his phone still glinting off some of the metal that wasn’t rusty.
‘You killed Murdo all those years ago,’ Harry said matter-of-factly.
‘I did. He was an old bastard. I worked for him, worked so damn hard, going the extra mile, but he treated me like shit.’
‘That was no reason to kill him,’ Dunbar said.
Boxer laughed loudly. ‘You dumb fuck. That wasn’t the reason I killed him. But the why doesn’t concern you.’
‘You were a pilot, obviously,’ Harry said.
‘Ironically, it was Murdo who taught me to fly. I never did get my pilot’s licence, which helped because when they did a search back in the day, wondering if it really was Murdo in the plane, nobody else had a pilot’s licence. But yes, I used to fly the plane with Murdo all the time. Oliver didn’t, because he was shit-scared of the small planes, but I loved it. It’s easy when you know how.’
‘You took him up in the plane and killed him, then flew it back here,’ Harry said.
‘Correct. I had planned it well, making sure the snow was cleared off the airstrip, or the back lawn as the hospital called it. It was perfect for landing the small plane.’
‘The why is irrelevant now anyway,’ Dunbar said as they walked into the clear space in front of the truck. ‘You’re under arrest.’
He stepped forward, taking his handcuffs out of a pocket, and was about to slap a cuff on one of Boxer’s wrists when the older man hit him with a left hook. Dunbar went down hard, hitting the hard-packed floor.
‘Jimmy!’ Harry said, rushing forward to check on his friend, keeping an eye on Boxer at the same time.
Boxer stepped forward and tried to punch Harry, but Harry knew it was coming and ducked, jabbing Boxer in the face with a right fist. It was enough to knock the man back,
and suddenly all the frustrations Harry had felt over the months rushed out. His ex-wife trying to keep his son from him; his mother’s murder; people trying to kill him.
Boxer grinned and moved in with a classic boxer’s stance and tried jabbing at Harry, but Harry was having none of it. He sidestepped and punched Boxer hard in the face. The older man was stunned, and Harry moved in, pummelling him with his fists, until the man fell back onto the floor.
‘Enough! I’ve had enough, please.’ Boxer lay still, his breath coming fast now, blood pouring from his mouth and nose. ‘You win.’
Harry turned away and bent down to see that Jimmy was doing okay and still breathing.
‘Fucking drop it!’ a voice suddenly shouted.
Harry looked up and saw Muckle McInsh standing just inside the doorway. He also saw Boxer had silently got back up on his feet and was standing with a hammer in his hand, holding it up like he was going to strike with it.
‘You big piece of shit,’ Boxer said. ‘I’ll kill you after I’ve killed this pair.’
‘I said fucking drop the hammer.’
Boxer smiled through the blood pouring out of his mouth. ‘Who’s going to fucking make me? You?’
‘No. Jesus will. Fuckwit.’
Boxer saw the distance between himself and Muckle and knew he wouldn’t be able to rush the man, so he turned his attention to Harry and Dunbar instead.
‘Harry, down!’ Muckle said, and as he brought his arm round, Harry didn’t think twice about throwing himself down on top of Dunbar.
The shot rang out in the darkness and the buckshot caught Boxer in the chest before he could bring down the hammer. He flew backwards and landed on his back, the life ebbing out of him.
Muckle ran over, not turning his back on Boxer, and took the hammer from him.
Dunbar groaned. ‘Look at you. You’ve not even taken me for a meal and a drink yet.’
‘Aye, you fucking wish,’ Harry said, getting to his feet. ‘Get your fucking self up.’
He looked at Muckle. ‘Good shot, pal.’
‘I’ll have some explaining to do, but at least I have a licence for it.’