Journeyman

by Heather Atkinson

  “I hope you find who did it,” said One Eye, genuinely sorry for what had happened to Bess.

  “I will, have no fear of that. Don’t go leaving the village Nik.”

  “That’s still impossible,” he said, gesturing to his ankle.

  As Connell left, One Eye wondered why a constable was doing the work of a detective. He had the feeling he would soon be pushed out by a detective, which would put his nose out of joint.

  A few minutes later Cherie and Alan burst into the room.

  “What did he want?” said Cherie, eyes bright with the drama.

  “To ask me where I was when Bess was killed.”

  Her eyes widened. “He thinks you killed her?”

  “Not as such but he does have to establish everyone’s whereabouts.”

  “He didn’t ask us,” retorted Alan.

  “It’ll take him some time to get around the whole village.”

  “On his way out he asked about that bird hitting the window last night,” said Cherie. “Thank God that did happen because we know you were here when Bess was being killed. And it’s not like you could have made it all the way to the shop and up and down the stairs to Beth’s flat then back here with that bad ankle of yours.”

  “Well, he could have done,” said Alan. “But it would have taken him a long time.”

  “Shut up you,” Cherie told him. “Nik didn’t do this.”

  “Then who did?”

  “It was Duncan if you ask me,” she retorted. “You saw him last night, getting jealous because Bess threw him over for Nik. He can be a nasty piece of work too, he gave Arthur a thump once because he thought he’d short-changed him in the shop.”

  “That’s true,” said Alan. “And he was definitely upset last night.”

  “He’s been after Bess for a while but she’s never shown any interest in him. Can’t say I blame her, big, humourless lump that he is.”

  One Eye thought how united Alan and Cherie were now they were discussing the murder of someone they’d known for years.

  The front door slammed open. “Nik?” exclaimed a voice.

  “In here,” he called.

  Helen charged into the room followed by Simon, both ruddy-cheeked from the cold. “Duncan’s been all around the village telling everyone you killed Bess.”

  “What?” said Cherie. “But that’s ridiculous.”

  “Course it is,” she replied. “We don’t believe it for a second, do we Simon?”

  He shook his head, not looking as certain as his girlfriend about that statement.

  “But a lot of the villagers do,” she continued. “They think it’s funny how the first murder in sixty years happens just as you turn up.”

  “I appreciate your faith in me,” said One Eye. “And you’re right, I didn’t do it. I can barely get down the garden path. And why would I? I’d only just met the woman and I liked her. I had no reason to hurt her.”

  “Exactly,” said Helen. “And it only shows how desperate Duncan is, going around trying to convince everyone you’re guilty.”

  “It sounds like he’s been successful too,” said One Eye.

  “Only because the villagers don’t want to believe someone they’ve known all their lives is a killer.”

  “Understandable I suppose.”

  “You’re being remarkably calm about all this Nik,” said Alan.

  “Because I’m innocent and that will be proved.”

  “Innocent people have gone to prison.”

  “And I don’t intend to be one of them. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going for a walk.”

  He got to his feet, leaning on the crutch. His ankle did feel a little better, so he thought he could make it into the village with just a single crutch.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” said Helen. “You might not find the villagers as friendly as they were last night.”

  “And I won’t change that by hiding away.”

  All four of them followed him into the hall, watching as he sank into the chair by the door to pull on his shoes.

  “What if they turn ugly?” said Alan.

  “I have faith that they won’t,” replied One Eye.

  “Then you’re a braver man than me.”

  One Eye didn’t think that required any special amount of nerve. When his shoes were on he hauled himself to his feet and slowly began pulling on his coat.

  “Me and Simon will come with you,” said Helen, her boyfriend looking a little alarmed about being included.

  “That’s very kind but unnecessary.”

  “We will, just to make sure you’re okay.”

  He smiled down at her. “I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve such kindness but I want you to know how much I appreciate it,” he replied, making her smile.

  Frederick was the next to arrive, wiping the mud off his boots on the mat at the door and blowing on his hands to warm them up. “Nik, you’re not going out, are you?” he said, looking a little alarmed.

  “Everyone thinks I’m a killer. I need to prove my innocence.”

  “Let the police do that. The villagers are not in a good mood.”

  “Even more reason for me to get out there.”

  “I don’t believe for a second that you killed Bess,” announced Frederick. “Anyone who can appreciate our wonderful wildlife the way you do could never take a life but I really don’t think this is wise.”

  “Thank you,” said One Eye. Little did Frederick realise he’d taken plenty of lives, however he was indeed innocent of this particular murder. “Your support is much appreciated,” he told them all. “I really am touched but I must do this.”

  He left behind a troubled Alan, Cherie and Frederick, who gathered at the door to watch him leave with Helen and a reluctant Simon.

  “If you ask me,” said Helen once they’d left behind the B&B. “I think Frederick could have killed Bess.”

  “Really?” said One Eye. “He seems so harmless.” However he knew the untruth in that statement. Everyone, no matter who they were, had the capacity to cause harm.

  “He’s out on his own at all hours, sneaking about the place with that camera of his.”

  One Eye thought of the figure he’d seen leaving the B&B at night. Neither had Frederick made an appearance during all the hullabaloo about the bird hitting the window last night.

  “I’m sure it’s an excuse to spy on people,” continued Helen. “Last week I caught him lurking in the trees around the back of Helena’s cottage. He said he thought he’d seen a woodpecker but I reckon he was trying to see into her bedroom window. That’s what it looked like he was doing when I found him. I mean, how many woodpeckers do you get on someone’s windowsill?”

  “That does indeed sound suspicious but it’s a long way from stabbing someone through the heart while they’re sleeping.”

  “It’s cowardly is what it is,” she said. “Which is another reason why I know it isn’t you because you’re not a coward. I saw that when you were speaking to Duncan. Everyone else around here is scared of him but not you.”

  “How kind of you to notice.”

  “If anyone’s a killer around here, it’s Duncan,” she added, cheeks pink with indignation, eyes flashing.

  One Eye thought she looked rather magnificent in her anger. “And what do you think of all this?” he asked Simon, who had remained conspicuously silent throughout this exchange.

  “Me?” he said, surprised to be asked. “Err, I really don’t know. I think I’m still in shock.”

  One Eye thought it was because he really had no mind of his own. He was one of those men who preferred to be told what to think and do by the woman in his life, it was less complicated that way.

  “Oh dear,” said Helen as they approached the centre of the village. The locals were gathered in small groups of three and four, obviously discussing recent, shocking events. When they saw One Eye they stopped talking to stare at him, openly glaring at him or avoiding his piercing gaze altogether.


  “Morning,” he said cheerfully. He’d faced much worse in his time than a bunch of hostile villagers.

  “Morning,” one of them reluctantly replied, a thin, pointy woman in her thirties. She hung her head when the others glared at her for speaking to him.

  “I’m so very sorry to hear about what happened to Bess,” continued One Eye. “PC Connell has been to see me, who discovered that I do have an alibi for her murder. I know you all think I was responsible but I can assure you I wasn’t and I hope the killer of that lovely, warm woman is caught soon.”

  This honest and impassioned speech was so unexpected they all stared at him. The two librarians were the first to recover.

  “I knew it couldn’t have been you,” said Roberta, stepping forward. “Far too nice a man. Didn’t I say that Helena?”

  Helena’s answering look was doubtful.

  A few of the other women gathered around One Eye, telling him how they were so relieved that he’d proved his undoubted innocence while the rest kept themselves apart, regarding him with definite suspicion before wandering off in different directions.

  “Talking with the murderer?” called a voice.

  They all looked round to see Duncan striding down the street like an out-of-control juggernaut, everyone hastening to get out of his way.

  “I didn’t touch Bess,” retorted One Eye. “And I have an alibi. Do you?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” snarled Duncan, marching right up to him and thrusting his face into his.

  “Did you kill her?”

  “What? How dare you ask me that?”

  “Why shouldn’t I? Or are you governed by a different set of laws to the rest of humanity?” said a cool One Eye.

  “I didn’t touch her.”

  “You were the one who had a go at her in the pub, you were the one who threatened me. The fact that you’re accusing me without any evidence is very suspicious indeed.”

  Duncan was shocked when everyone started to regard him with suspicious eyes. “It wasn’t me,” he exclaimed.

  “You were quick to accuse Nik,” said Roberta. “In fact, as soon as the news broke about poor Bess you were running around the village telling everyone it was him.”

  “There was no murder in this village until he turned up,” he said, pointing at One Eye.

  “Or maybe the murderer thought now was the perfect time to strike,” said One Eye. “When I was here to blame. After all, I’d only just met Bess, I had no reason to hurt her. I hadn’t lusted after her for years and got nowhere, unlike you.”

  “That’s a good point,” said Roberta.

  Duncan swallowed hard when they all stared at him. “I didn’t do it,” he cried.

  “We can’t be sure of that,” said Helena.

  One Eye chuckled to himself as they surrounded Duncan, demanding answers.

  “Nicely handled,” smiled Helen as she and Simon accompanied him back to the B&B.

  “Yes, it went rather well, didn’t it?” he replied.

  She glanced back over her shoulder to see Duncan backing up, hands raised as the women grew angrier, waving their fingers in his face. “I bet he did it too, he’s the only one with any motive.”

  One Eye wondered if Silas could be responsible for Bess’s murder but a single knife thrust to the heart just wasn’t his style. If he’d killed her bits of her would have been found all over the room. It was too understated. Deep down he doubted Duncan was responsible. This wasn’t a crime of passion, it was mechanical, Bess’s death merely serving a purpose. It didn’t indicate years of pent up desire and frustration boiling over. No, the killer was yet to be revealed but it wasn’t his problem, Silas was. Hopefully his friends would soon be here.

  CHAPTER 14

  Raven and Damon had decided to drive straight to Glendale. They’d regretted not doing that yesterday, although they still didn’t think One Eye had sent that message. But they could leave no stone unturned.

  The western peninsula looked like something straight out of a fantasy novel with its towering rocky mountains and wild, lonely beauty.

  “I’d love to go hiking here,” said Raven a little sadly, knowing this trip wouldn’t bring any chance of that.

  “You’re just like Dad,” said Damon. “You might not be his biological child but you’re more like him than I am. That’s probably why the ravens led him to you.”

  “I didn’t think you believed in all that,” she replied.

  “I never used to but I’ve noticed over the years weird things happen around Dad. If we’re out usually there are ravens hanging around, even if we’re in the middle of the city centre. It’s the same with you. I see a lot more of the big feathered buggers when you’re around. Not all the time but when shit’s about to get real they’re usually there. Look, there’s another one,” he said, indicating a corvid perched on a wall, beyond which were fields.

  “That’s a crow,” replied Raven.

  “Oh. Well, they’re all the same, aren’t they?”

  “No. Same family though.”

  “Oh.”

  Raven smiled. It seemed she was forgiven for putting the bracelet on his wrist and for Aidan coming to help. “Heads up,” she said. “We’re coming into Glendale.”

  Damon went on high alert, suspiciously scanning every tree and bush they drove by.

  Raven pulled into a parking space outside a café in the centre of Glendale. “The cottage One Eye allegedly rented is a five minute walk from here. It would be best to approach on foot.”

  “Yeah, good idea,” he replied.

  They got out of the car and began the walk up a small hill, leading away from the village. The cottage was visible above them, a small white dot peeking out from behind a cluster of trees. As it had grown considerably cooler overnight they were both clad in all the outdoor gear they’d bought from the jealous husband in Ullapool.

  “If anyone is up there they’re going to see us coming a mile off,” said Damon.

  “I know.”

  “Isn’t that a bit mental?”

  “I’ve got a plan.”

  “I hope it’s a good one.”

  “We’re about to find out.”

  “That isn’t reassuring.”

  “You nervous Damon?”

  “No, I’m just…cautious.”

  “Since when?”

  “I guess I’m finally learning.”

  Raven smiled. She would believe it when she saw it.

  Halfway up the hill they ducked into the trees to study the house, Raven taking out the binoculars she’d stuffed into her jacket pocket.

  “What can you see?” said Damon.

  “There aren’t any lights on inside,” she replied. “And I can’t see anyone through the windows.”

  “It’s a trap, I can feel it.”

  They both looked up at a caw from above to see two ravens taking off into the air.

  “Hmm,” she replied. “You could be right.”

  “So what’s your plan then?”

  “We need to see if One Eye’s in there and what does One Eye hate?”

  “Sprouts.”

  Raven’s lips twitched. “What else does he hate?”

  “My cooking.”

  “Keep going.”

  “Err, jaywalkers, gluten free beer, curries that are too hot, men who wear pink, people who put their Christmas decorations up in November…”

  “Yes, that’s right,” said Raven. “I’ve arranged for a bunch of people who put up their Christmas decs in November to meet us here.”

  “Well maybe instead of making me guess you should just tell me your sodding plan.”

  “Fine. He hates anyone making a fire around trees.”

  “Oh yeah. Don’t tell me you’re going to set fire to a tree because that’s out of order.”

  “I wouldn’t do that. I’m going to use this to make it look like one,” she said, producing a small device from her pocket.

  “One of Dad’s little smoke bombs,” he said with a
fond smile.

  “Yep. If it is One Eye in there he’ll charge out to tell us off and possibly throw things at us. If it’s someone else in there hopefully they’ll pop their head out of the door to see what’s going on and reveal themselves.”

  “What if the smoke draws the attention of the villagers?”

  “Then we’ll deny all knowledge.”

  “Fair enough. Let’s do it.”

  They ducked down behind the trees as Raven ignited the smoke bomb and tossed it towards the edge of the trees, so it would be visible from the cottage.

  “Come on One Eye,” she said, eyes riveted to the front door of the cottage, willing him to emerge full of outrage and carrying a bucket of water. But that didn’t happen. In fact nothing did, except for Damon coughing from the smoke.

  “Great,” said Damon as Raven turned off the device. “Dad’s not in there and if anyone else is we’ve just announced our arrival.”

  “What if he’s asleep?”

  “He’s not in there,” he snapped, his bad temper returning. “In fact he doesn’t seem to be on this fucking island and don’t tell me not to be negative because I’m not in the fucking mood.”

  “No, that’s fair enough,” she said. “I’m sick of this too but we can’t stop until we find him.”

  “Yeah, I know.” He got to his feet. “He’s not here. Let’s go.”

  As they turned and headed back through the trees there was a deafening boom and they were thrown onto their fronts, Damon narrowly avoiding a particularly sharp tree branch in the eye.

  Raven groaned and rolled onto her back, ears ringing, the breath stolen from her body. Forcing herself upright, she saw the cottage was engulfed in a ball of flame. Her eyes widened when she saw what was charging its way towards them.

  “Damon, get up,” she said, shoving him.

  His head snapped up, dead leaves stuck to one side of his face. “What?” he groaned.

  “Get up,” she yelled, hauling herself to her feet, dragging him along with her.

  “Shit,” he cried, leaping up and staggering slightly.

  The Land Rover burst into the trees, bumping and jolting its way down the hill, the massive figure behind the wheel aiming a gun at them through the driver’s side window. Fortunately the wild movement of the vehicle meant he couldn’t get off an accurate shot, the bullets slamming into the trees around them.