Water's Edge

by G R Jordan

  “Yes, sir. Can I get you a glass of water? Put the kettle on?”

  The man nodded and Hope spied the kettle on the kitchen side. Hunting, she located some tea bags and two mugs.

  “Sugar? Milk?”

  “Yes, two. And yes,” replied the man his eyes staring ahead. Hope watched as the kettle heated up and just as it started to boil the man got up and exited the room for a moment. On return, he handed her a picture in a gold frame. “That’s them. Carol and Sara. I said they were so alike. Not just in looks but also in mannerisms. Everything.”

  Staring at the picture, Hope saw two women, one close to forty and the other maybe sixteen. The likeness was uncanny and except for the odd wrinkle and blemish, the two could have been twins, never mind mother and daughter.

  “How did Carol die, sir?” It was a crappy time to ask such a question but Hope knew she had to.

  “Died in a car accident in Burundi. She had decided to take herself off to Africa without saying as much as goodbye and then she died out there. Got a letter from a tour guide over there saying she had been in a car accident and was burned alive. There was nothing left to send back. In fact they simply buried whatever was left out there.”

  “How did Sara take it?”

  “Badly. I tried to help her but it was like she blamed me. She desperately wanted someone to blame, someone to pay. She moved out when she got her mother’s money and started in town. Eventually she bought the massage parlour. But by now she was off the rails. Poor Sara, it was a damn rough life in a lot of ways for her.”

  Turning away Hope made the tea and let the man sit down again and stare at the photograph. Tears were running down his face and she watched his shoulders shake. If it was an act it was a damn good one.

  “So what was your recent relationship with Sara? How did it work?”

  The man sniffed and turned to look at Hope. “I’d go over to town and pop in on her. In the early days she wanted nothing to do with me, as if I was to blame for Carol’s death. But then it all changed and I could sit with her, or go for a coffee. She had a thing about her Mum though.”

  “What sort of thing?” asked Hope.

  “Said her Mum had let us down. That she had made poor choices. I didn’t get that, especially when she was dating some guy and working other men, all the time in love with a girl. But I did what I could for her. And she seemed to tolerate me at least if not warm to me. At least she never came on to me again.”

  Hope supped on her tea, thinking hard on what Smith had said. “She said her mum had let you down. I know you said that you didn’t understand that coming from Sara and her lifestyle but with Sara aside, does that comment make sense? Was there anything untoward with Carol?”

  “Carol was the best thing I had. Yes, a flirt but she didn’t cheat on me or stray. We were happy and then suddenly she’s off to Africa. Guess I’ll never find out what made her take that trip.”

  “Did she work?”

  “She did the books for a few people, ex-accountant, you see. And she sold crafts in a shop in town. She made enough to keep going, in fact more than enough. She had that gift with people, the one to engage them and get them sold on an idea or something to buy.”

  Something bothered Hope. It was not that the man was somehow not genuine, in fact she totally believed what he said. It was just that the story seemed wrong. A flirt like her daughter and yet totally on one man. Sudden holidays.

  The vibration of her mobile suddenly broke Hope’s train of thought and she took it out. It was her boss calling and she answered it briefly. Macleod was leaving hospital and wanted her to meet him and catch up with what he had missed. She said she would see him in thirty minutes.

  “Do you have a picture of Carol I can take with me, Mr Smith?”

  “Sure, I’ll just fetch one for you.” The man made for the next room and Hope looked around the kitchen realising how lonely it was. Everything said single person. The kitchen was immaculate like it had been cleaned over and over. Everything in its place. And all the food stuff she could see was in single portions. The kitchen felt lonely.

  Taking the photo from Smith, Hope offered her condolences again and left. As she drove back, she placed a call on her hands free and got through to Allinson. There had been nothing further on locating the girl and the routine door to door and car stopping had yet to reveal anything. As Hope thanked him and was about to end the call, Allinson quickly threw in a question.

  “I don’t suppose you would like to get some food after work tonight?”

  Wow, thought Hope. He was cute but I did not see that coming.

  “It’s probably going to be a late finish,” said Hope, and she swore she could hear a murmur of disappointment. “But the hotel does food, so maybe we could do something. What’s your name, anyway?”

  “Allinson, I told you at the lochside.”

  “I mean your first name. I don’t eat with people who I am only on surname terms with.”

  Allinson laughed and Hope knew she had hit the right tone.

  “John, I’m John. And you?”

  “Hope. I’ll see you at the station later, John.” Hope ended the call before he could reply and gave herself a sly grin. He was cute, a good body. If he’s entertaining then tonight might just be a good one.

  Chapter 12

  Macleod crunched the iceberg lettuce inside the burger and a piece of raw tomato fell onto his shirt. Taking a handkerchief, he rubbed at it managing to smear it further across his white shirt.

  “Here, let me,” said Hope, taking the handkerchief and spitting onto it. Grabbing the shirt between her fingers she rubbed hard at it until satisfied she had made an improvement.

  Macleod looked down and saw a faint ring and a wet patch on his top and muttered under his breath. The waitress came over with their coffees and took one look at his shirt.

  “Jesus, you made a right muck of that.”

  “I’ll thank you not to take the Good Lord’s name in vain.” Macleod’s eyes were like fire, burning brightly and giving off the belief that any interference could lead to someone being burnt. Laying the coffees on the table with a thud, the waitress stormed away.

  “Bit harsh,” commented Hope.

  “Really, McGrath? The one who made all heaven and earth and we just toss his name around like it’s a piece of doggy doo. Some things you have to take a stand against.”

  Hope laughed. “She meant no offence.”

  “She’s from here. She should know better. It’s because people don’t hold their tongue that there’s a need for you and me.”

  “Hardly. It’s because people can’t get over things and decide to bump people off that there’s a need for you and me. That’s the truth of it.”

  Macleod shook his head. “The world’s going to pot. There’s no standards these days. You can be whatever you want these days, and some people can’t make up their minds, even then. Boys are girls, girls are boys. There’s no standards, nothing people can hang on to. Even the church is losing its grounding.”

  “You don’t agree with the new order then, sir? Am I okay being here? I know I was a last minute replacement.”

  “McGrath, this is no job for a woman. It truly isn’t. When I was young, men protected women, we did the dirty jobs, left you free to do the raising of the kids, keep the home running. Now, people do what they want and look at it. You want to do this job, well, I can’t stop you and maybe these days that’s right. But I take you into an interview room and the guy is sitting there drooling, looking you over. It’s not good.”

  “I’ll wear my burka next time.”

  “Don’t go there.”

  “You really need to get your attitude modernised, sir?”

  “Look, I don’t agree with a lot but I follow policy, I make sure everyone gets equal rights as they say these days. But I am entitled to my opinion. And it’s a road to hell.”

  Macleod watched Hope’s face as she seemed to be biting on her lip. Her expression went from someone offend
ed to that of the guest at the party who has just got the joke.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “You’re going to love our girl, Sara.”

  Macleod raised his eyebrows. “Why?”

  “When I went to her stepdad he painted some picture. Apparently she propositioned him once while sunbathing. Actually whipped some clothing off and gave him a good view. He slapped her and she resented it. He reckons she has been having plenty of sex deliberately with these men despite being a lesbian at heart.”

  “I did say, the road to hell. The Lord have mercy.” Macleod raised his eyes to the ceiling and muttered something under his breath.

  “What was more interesting, was that her mother took off from the stepdad suddenly and went on holiday to Africa, only to die in a road accident in Burundi. The tour operator sent him some sort of confirmation but nobody was able to be recovered and repatriated. Then the daughter cold shoulders him and then later is opening her massage parlour and banging these men.”

  “Having intercourse, there’s no need to be vulgar.”

  Macleod watched McGrath roll her eyes before continuing. “What I’m getting at is the stepdad put this all down to a reaction to her mother’s death. But I reckon there’s more to it. It’s all very convenient. Something smells fishy.”

  Standing up, Macleod threw down some money on the table. “Come on. You might have a body too distracting for the interview room but you have the suspicious mind of a policeman.”

  “Person, sir, person.”

  * * *

  McGrath drove them the short distance to the station and they made their way to the operations room. Checking in with Allinson, Macleod learned that there had been no sightings of their missing girl. However, stopping of cars on the main road had led to a partial identification of a car in the area that night. It was red and a five door saloon. However no number plate was forthcoming.

  Allinson also reported that the bus driver who travelled that route earlier in the evening had taken two young women from town to a stop close by the pier where Sara was believed to be murdered. He could not be sure but Sara may have been one of the women.

  “I requested that they bring young Iain back in. We found that photo in the house of Donna Mackenzie and I want to know if Iain has seen that guy about. I’d really rather get hold of Donna to ask her but Allinson’s finding it hard to grab her. I mean, there cannot be that many places to go to ground up here, can there?”

  “You tell me, sir, you’re from here,” retorted McGrath.

  Sara’s boyfriend Iain was not in a good way when they entered the interview room. Sat across the table from them, every time he tried to pick up his coffee in the plastic cup, it was spilling due to a shaky hand.

  “Thank you for coming back in Mr MacDonald, I appreciate this is not a good time. Is there anything else I can get you, maybe a cloth for the table?”

  Macleod was letting McGrath take the lead and was watching the reactions of Iain MacDonald closely. He had requested Hope to push MacDonald in terms of Sara’s close friends, to drive a line that would reveal any threats to Iain’s position as her boyfriend. It all seemed to be too much that he knew nothing of her other life.

  “In terms of friends, and I mean female friends, did Sara have any?” asked McGrath. Hope was smiling, leaning forward and cut a figure most men would at least be taking a good glance at but MacDonald was nervy, looking here and there.

  “Of course. There were friends but no one of note really.”

  “Could you tell me some names?”

  “Well, there was Elaine, Anna, and Tina. They would come out with us on a Saturday sometimes but they are my friends really. Sara didn’t mix that well with people. She as always focused on me. We’d be out, talking to each other, making out, maybe dancing and then back to hers.”

  “So how often did you stay over?” asked Macleod.

  “Every Saturday. She was busy and preferred my place to stay. She had always come over to my place until I suggested we use her place in town on a Saturday.”

  “And you only stayed there on a Saturday?” queried McGrath. Macleod caught her glance towards him.

  “Yes! Yes!”

  “Anyone else ever stay over with you?”

  “No,” said MacDonald emphatically and a little aggressively. But then he stopped and seemed to ponder. “There were a few times I woke up in the morning and there was Donna there. I just assumed she had come over in the morning.”

  “Donna?” asked McGrath, innocently, “Who’s Donna?”

  “Just this sad girl who hung onto Sara’s coat tails. I think she liked to think she was Sara’s friend. I only ever saw her twice. But I knew her from growing up.”

  “How?”

  “There’s only the one secondary school up here on Lewis, McGrath,” interjected Macleod. “As a teenager you soon get to know everyone’s name if not in any great depth.”

  “That’s right. She was below me in school but even then she was a bit weird. Never heard of her having a boyfriend either.”

  “So you only ever saw her round at Sara’s twice. And both times a Sunday morning,” clarified Hope.

  “Yes. Although the second time was a bit strange. I’d gotten up after midday and went to use the shower. Opened the door and realised it wasn’t Sara in there. Apparently Donna had decided to have a wash as she had been out all night. Maybe she had had a row with someone.”

  “Unusual to have a wash at a friends like that,” prompted Macleod.

  “Yeah, it was. But like I said, she was a bit weird. I think Sara was just taking care of someone she saw struggling. She never talked about her, so I think she didn’t know her that well.”

  Macleod had to suppress the cry within him that wanted to grab this man by the shoulders and tell him what an idiot he was. But then he caught himself. Maybe this was an act. But like so many times you ask this question, he realised it would have to be a blooming good one.

  Catching Hope’s eye, he gave a nod. From her jacket pocket, McGrath took out a copy of the photo from the wall of Donna Mackenzie’s house. Placing it on the table, she remained silent for a few moments and Macleod saw an anger in young MacDonald’s face.

  “You know him?” asked McGrath.

  “Not know him, but saw him a few times when we were out on a Saturday.”

  “When?”

  “In recent weeks. I think he’s one of those street pastors from the church.”

  “Street pastors?”

  “Yeah, they give you God when you are down and out and pissed. But they do help a lot of people home and that. The Pastors are harmless enough but this guy was quite intense. I know she had seen someone in the church to talk to after her mum died but I don’t know who. That was before we had got it on.

  “But this guy would stop her on a night out as we went along the street. Come to think of it, he was a lot more aggressive than the Pastors normally are. Insisting she stop. I offered to do him but she said she was handling it. Actually it didn’t seem to bother her that much. We would just head into a pub or the club, ‘cos he never followed us in there.”

  “What did he wear when you met?” asked Macleod.

  “Was always on the street so he had a coat on, usually done up, and had a hat on, like a flat cap. It was usually as we came past a side street. Thinking about it, he was quite secretive and he never wanted a scene.”

  “What do you mean a scene?” asked Hope. “Did things ever get angry or ugly?”

  “Not with Sara, she just brushed him off, told him to go away. But he got hot under the collar a few times. Like I said, he was aggressive for a street pastor.”

  MacDonald began to sniff again and yielded little more information of use. Macleod retired from the interview and met up with McGrath in the operations room.

  “We need to find this guy and fast,” said Macleod.

  “Why don’t we just trawl the churches and find this street pastor team?” asked Hope.

  “I’ll go t
o them. We don’t want to be seen as word travels around fast in this place, and at the moment, he doesn’t know we are looking for him. I want to catch him unawares, see him before he has a defence up.”

  “Okay, I’ll go see her boss at the hardware shop, I believe she was there in the days before she was killed, see if there’s anything else the standard questioning didn’t find.”

  “Good, and we’ll meet up then tonight at the hotel, go over everything.”

  Allinson rushed into the room and flagged down Macleod. “Sir, sir, you need to see this. He was holding in his gloved hand, a note written on plain white paper. It read, “Sorry about the pan to the head. Meet me at the memorial drinking fountain in the castle grounds, 3am, alone. It’s not safe for me.”

  Chapter 13

  Being a Saturday and close to the start of evening, Hope wanted to catch the owner of the DIY store before he left. Tomorrow was Sunday and Macleod said that everything was going to be a little more awkward during the island’s day of rest. With the arrival of the note, their plans had been somewhat rearranged. She had been looking forward to a meal with Allinson, a bit of a laugh and who knows what else. Now that was all on hold for a potential early night to get up at 2am.

  Driving into the small car park, the store front reminded Hope of an industrial unit rather than a shop and it seemed to be almost empty. Approaching the door after parking, she stood in front of automatic sliding doors that were refusing to do their job. Hope clocked the opening hours. The store had closed twenty minutes ago. Shit!

  There were still lights on inside and she was sure she saw movement. Banging on the door, she heard a cry of “shut” coming from the rear. Despite this, she kept banging and a thin man eventually approached and flicked a switch near the top of the doors. They swept open and he looked at Hope with annoyance.

  “Can’t you read? We’re shut, come back Monday.”

  “Police,” replied Hope, brandishing her credentials which the man studied carefully.

  “This will be about Sara then. I’m needing to be out tonight so can we make it quick?”