Water's Edge

by G R Jordan

  Later, as he waited for Hope to put on some trousers, he realised one of the things that had stopped any further union of them had been the height issue. Hope was an inch taller than he and when he had tried to hold her to his chest, it just felt awkward. His wife had been three inches smaller and perfect to hold to.

  When Hope tapped his shoulder, he had convinced himself, all these feelings were just the maelstrom the memories of his wife had brought up. As he watched her exit the room, doubts began to fester on the premise formed.

  Chapter 18

  Macleod left Hope in the hospital. The medical staff had said they wanted to observe her for at least twelve more hours and Macleod knew she needed rest. The poor woman had taken a pummelling at the man’s hands and was fortunate not to have any broken bones or serious injury beyond bruising. When he had left her, her jaw had started to swell and a dark bruise was forming.

  And yet he felt like he had lost a limb. After popping by the station, where he picked up a temporary mobile phone, Macleod headed to the mobile command point that was co-ordinating the search for the young woman. She was in trouble, given how the thugs had gone after her but where she was, was a mystery. By this time, Macleod reckoned she would be far away from the castle grounds but you never knew with people, especially those on the run. If they were merely lost then you could reasonably predict their movements to some degree, but those on the run could always play a wild card.

  On arrival at the command point he was surprised to see the council woman in attendance, talking to Allinson. Macleod’s suspicious mind kicked in and he waited politely for the councillor to finish with his junior before catching his eye.

  “What does she want?” he asked the Detective once the woman had moved away.

  “Was giving the old anything-the-council-can-do-to-help speech, sir. Wasting my time really. She was trying to get details about where we were looking, surreptitiously mind, but get them all the same.”

  Macleod grimaced. “Do we know where she was last night?”

  “No, sir. But you said all the thugs were men.”

  “And they were. Doesn’t mean someone else wasn’t watching. I’ll have a word with her. I take it there’s no update.”

  “No, sir. We’ve had them searching all night but by now the area she could be in is massive. We’re continuing with the helicopter and search teams at the moment but if she’s not found by this afternoon, we’re back into having an area the size of the island really.”

  “Have you checked the ferries?”

  “Yes sir, and we have got people to the ports and slipways, advised the harbours, but it’s not simple. We haven’t got the manpower to cover something that wide. The other emergency services are helping but we can’t involve the public.” Allinson hung his head, looking somewhat dejected. “How’s Hope, sir?”

  “Detective McGrath is somewhat battered and the hospital is going to hold onto her a wee while longer. But she’s good, Allinson, she’s okay. She saved the woman last night.”

  “So did you, I hear, sir.”

  “It was McGrath that saved the day, Allinson. Quite a detective.” Macleod meant this as a genuine compliment to her ability to do her job but he saw Allinson’s smile and knew he was somewhere else with his thoughts.

  “Heck of a woman, sir. Hard to read though. Thought I was in there to be honest, and then blown straight out.”

  “Probably just dedicated to the case, Allinson, as we all should be. I’ve been told to rest as well, so after I’ve spoken to the councillor I shall pop along to church. I have my mobile if anything turns up.” Allinson nodded and Macleod turned away and spotted the council woman walking away from the Cuddy Point mobile base along the road that would eventually lead back to the golf club, where any cars generally parked on a Sunday.

  Macleod thought how in his days on the island, there would be no cars near this area as the gates would be closed. But he had been told that the Lews castle would be open for guests and those wanting a coffee on a Sunday as well as a few other places in town. Things do change, he thought, but slowly.

  “Councillor Smith,” he shouted after speeding up to close the gap between them.

  The woman turned round. “Ah, Detective, do call me, Marie. How is your colleague? I hear she took quite a beating last night. At least that’s what the ambulance driver said.”

  “Yes, but she’s fine, Mrs Smith, just a bit battered.” Walking alongside the woman, Macleod realised that no one was asking how he was, and the bruises seemed to smart all the more because of it. “Sorry to be abrupt, but can I ask your location last night. As someone with a key link to Sara Hewitt, you can understand why I need to ask you this.”

  “But of course, Detective,” said Marie Smith, but Macleod could tell she had hoped he wouldn’t ask it. “I was in bed, like all good people should be.”

  “Forgive me but this case has been an eye opener,” said Macleod. “Was anyone with you?”

  “Yes they were, Detective, but it is sensitive. You see, he has a wife.”

  “That wouldn’t go down well with the public here, Mrs Smith. I take it he has a name?” Macleod looked straight at the woman, making sure she knew he was going to have this name.

  “Have you breakfasted, Detective? What say we take a walk up to the castle and find a quiet corner to discuss this matter?”

  “Okay, but we will discuss it. And you may have to make a statement to the effect of what you tell me.”

  The woman waved a hand. “Of course, Detective, of course, happy to help, now let’s get a move on, I am hungry.”

  Macleod did not like to say but he was hungry too despite having breakfasted with Hope. As he walked the short distance to the castle, Macleod noted the various paths that swung amongst the trees of the grounds. They seemed newly gravelled and there was a general air of industry about the place despite it being a Sunday.

  “The Sabbath has changed here somewhat,” said the Councillor on noting Macleod looking around. “Plenty of dog walkers and that but they still shut off what they can. I tell them we need to open up the place, encourage our tourists. But you have to be careful how quick you push progress, many of the people here still follow what is said on a Sunday. And a lot of those pulpits preach a day of nothing.”

  “A day of quiet and reflection on our Lord actually, Mrs Smith. I believe they see it as following a biblical principal.”

  “Actually, I think some just like a quiet day. But it goes too far. Too restrictive. Things need to change, to be more open.”

  Macleod wondered how open the council woman’s electorate would be as to her paying for sex with another woman. This was not Glasgow. But his mind also drifted back to Sundays with his wife. Sure they had gone to church twice a day, out in the country community they had belonged to, but they had not stayed inside during the day if they could. No, she always wanted him to go out, to take her places. They had been careful, gone away from prying eyes.

  The day they took a picnic out to the moor and had sat down by the loch. Everything was still and she was in her summer dress on a day of sun, something the island was not famous for. It had been a tick that had started it, the wee blighters that could crawl up your leg and one had seen fit to make it up his wife’s leg, right to the inside of her thigh.

  After removing the offending creature, he had been leaning over her in a rather compromising position. He had been looking around hoping no one would see this crude setup on a Sunday but then she had excited him in those private ways and things had developed. The swim in the loch and subsequent act of passion was still clear to him. If they had been caught it would have been a scandal, yet it was one of his favourite memories of her. Everyone talked about missing her as a wife but he had lost his lover. While not being the only thing he missed about her, it was one that had not been replaced to any degree. No wonder he burned at times, as the good book says.

  “Have you been in our castle?”

  The voice brought Macleod back to reality an
d he shook his head. “Not yet. Please lead the way.”

  The Councillor led Macleod along an ornate hallway before taking a right turn through a door into a covered but light cafe. The ceiling above him was glass and he quickly recognised he was in an old courtyard space that had been changed into a roomy cafe. The modern tables were set out at a generous distance and the councillor took his order while he sat down. His hips ached as he sat and he could feel some of his bruises smarting. Hope must be feeling a lot worse, he thought.

  Placing a small wooden spoon in a vase on the table, the councillor sat down and brushed down her skirt. Apparently something had fallen on it but Macleod could not work out what. The drinks arrived quickly and Macleod sought the sugar from a carousel at the wall before returning to his coffee. As he sipped the hot liquid, Marie Smith looked at him, taking great pains to show her turmoil.

  “I’m not normally into affairs, Inspector, but I think we were really caught off guard by each other. His marriage is practically dead anyway, I think she’s not, as they say, active for him. And well, I have been missing the physical.”

  Macleod noticed she was leaning forward and he felt a foot touch his leg. The councillor removed her jacket hanging it behind her seat and when she turned back, she leaned towards Macleod, her blouse hanging low. He actually felt sick with this brazen display.

  “That’s not what I had heard, Councillor, indeed I was under the impression you paid for sex with females.”

  The woman’s face fell. Obviously she knew Macleod would have known about Sara, but maybe she was more angry that her charms were not working on him. But she moved back into her seat and continued.

  “Well, I do have needs, Inspector, and if you can satisfy them from two angles why not. But trust me, I do need a man’s touch. And the air of danger with this affair I think went straight to my head.”

  Macleod shook his head. “I don’t care about your reasons. What you do with another woman’s husband is up to you and them, not me, unless you breech the law. What does matter is I have a young woman scared and on the run and I need to close off potential lines of enquiry. So, who is he? Where can I get in touch with him? And quickly.”

  “You could take a leaf from your Detective McGrath. Lot more subtle. In all respects, I think. His name is Alastair McKinney. You’ll find him at church this morning, the United Free Reformed Presbyterian up from the station. It’s not a church, they just use a hall as they are a breakaway faction from one of the other ones.”

  “Which one?” asked Macleod.

  “God knows.”

  “I’m sure he does, Mrs Smith. So you were with him last night? From when until when.”

  “Well we met at ten o’clock out at the car park towards Arnish, opposite the back end of the grounds. We left my car and took his out towards Lochs where we turned off to a small caravan he has, near the peats he cuts. I left there about five this morning with him and took a message from one of my constituents who works in the hospital. They told me about the palaver you had last night and so I popped down this morning to see if I could assist.”

  There was no sweat on the woman, no sign of nerves. This bothered Macleod. A councillor potentially getting caught with another wife’s husband and she’s not flinching. Unless..., maybe there are worse things.

  “I’ll check with him directly this morning. After all, I think we all owe the Lord a look in on His day. Whatever else you do with your day, Mrs Smith, and I’m sure you need some rest after an..., shall we say, energetic night, spend some time with your maker.”

  “Most thoughtful of you, Inspector. Most thoughtful.”

  “Thank you for the coffee. Big difference from the last time I set eyes on here,” said Macleod leaving with a wave of acknowledgement.

  He had been totally determined to keep his past from anyone but he needed to test the water with Mrs Smith. Let’s see how much she wants to get involved, thought Macleod. I bet she won’t wait until the Sabbath is over.

  Chapter 19

  The walk from Lews castle through the grounds to the small bridge that crossed the river as it let out to the sea, was refreshing. Macleod felt he was finally playing some cards in this whole game and he was keen to see the results. The air felt good and he even thought that the bruises had somehow gone down somewhat on his body. Positive mental attitude, that’s what his boss would say.

  The town had become alive but only in the sense that a patient in a coma is more alive than someone deceased. Smartly dressed men in dark suits and women in hats drove by in cars on their way to church. A few walked and gave him a nod as they passed. He was in his usual shirt and tie as befitted an inspector but he still felt a little underdressed.

  At church in Glasgow, very few women wore hats, and it was by choice rather than precedent. In fact Macleod had seen men arrive in less than a tie as well. The island certainly held to the traditions a lot stronger than the mainland. He heard solitary bells ringing across various steeples and fell in line behind others now having exited their cars and continuing on foot.

  At the door of the hall that served as a church, Macleod was greeted by a stout man in a black suit. A handshake that could have taken your arm off ensued and Macleod winced as the muscles in his body reminded him they had done enough last night and did not need any heavy handed welcomes.

  “Good morning, a fine Sabbath day.”

  “Indeed,” said Macleod, remembering to just smile. Entering the hall, he took a seat at the back and watched as the church filled up to almost half full. He was in good company in his choice of seat as apart from some men who were sitting together at the front, presumably the elders, everyone sat at the rear half.

  The minister appeared after everyone had sat in silence for some five minutes and the service opened with a psalm sung by a presenter while the congregation accompanied him. No one stood as that was reserved for the prayer that ensued when the singing stopped. One of the men from the front prayed for a solid ten minutes and again Macleod’s body told him off. These activities were not unusual to Macleod, for his own church in Glasgow was similar but somewhat jollier.

  The service lasted an hour and a half and the sermon left Macleod in no doubt that an unrepentant sinner would be going to hell. The Gospel preached, thought Macleod, and my wife was no sinner, she was a believer. Yet the number who told me she was going to hell after the incident. The same people who criticised her when she tried to be different, when she was struggling.

  With the service ended, Macleod strode over to one of the elders, reaching forward with a handshake so the man had to respond. Leaning forward he whispered in his ear the name “Alastair McKinney” and the man nodded with his head to a man with his back to them. Thanking the elder, Macleod made his way to McKinney and tapped him on the shoulder.

  “May I have a word?” asked Macleod.

  “Oh, hello. You’re a policeman aren’t you? I guess I should always have a word with you when requested.” The man was tripping over his own laugh, it was so forced. There was a nervousness to his shoulders as well.

  “Shall your wife accompany us? I wouldn’t want her to worry where you had gone.”

  “No,” said the man, sweeping a hand across his jet black, greasy hair. “She’ll be fine here, she knows to wait.”

  “Really, almost prophetic in her approach considering she doesn’t know what I want. You might not come back.” Macleod sneered and saw the man start to panic.

  “I’ll just say to her,” the man said quickly, “and Macleod watched him speak to a woman some ten years or so younger than the man. She nodded and then smiled at Macleod. “This way,” indicated the man leading Macleod to a side room.

  On entering a room that held a table and some chairs with some of the most hideous wallpaper Macleod had ever seen, the man spun around and stood with his head hung low. His hands were shaking.

  “I have been told by Councillor Smith, that you entered into sexual relations with her last night. Is that correct?”


  “Yes,” McKinney said quickly. “We were together all the time.”

  “What time?”

  “Oh, from ten o’clock.”

  “Ten o’clock precisely?” snapped Macleod.

  “Yes.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Eh... The radio in the car. It gave out the time.”

  “What station?”

  “Eh... Isles FM, the local station, you might not be familiar with it.”

  “Where did you meet?”

  “The car park at the back of the castle grounds. Then we took my car to my caravan. We left at five.”

  “How did you know it was five?”

  “The radio.”

  I’ll need to check that, thought Macleod, but he’s lying. Totally lying. “How long have you been having sexual relations with Mrs Smith?”

  The man looked at Macleod. “Eh, three months.”

  “And how did you meet? I mean how did you get together the first time?”

  Again the man paused, looking to the air for an answer. “I went to her with an issue I was having with our bin collection.”

  “What issue?”

  “They were refusing to collect my bins because they said I was putting commercial waste in them but it’s a garage industry so strictly it’s actually household waste, do you see? I couldn’t believe it when I came home that day and the bin is just sitting there. Anyway it went on for two months until I went to see Mrs Smith and she sorted it. She leaned rather heavily on certain people in the council.”

  “And for that you gave her sex?” asked Macleod showing a disingenuous face.

  “No! Yes! Well, the sex just kind of happened.”

  The man was one minute riding a rollercoaster with his hands in the air and the next was unable to find the exit, thought Macleod. “How did you do it? With Marie, I mean. What was your favourite position? Two months, I’m sure you had a bit of routine with it to keep each other happy?”