by Alex Walters
She keyed in the password and handed the phone back. 'There you go.'
The man looked back at her, his expression still baffled. 'So do I just dial 999 now like I would on a real phone?'
Horton frowned. 'Why do you want to phone 999?'
'Because of what Scott found.'
Horton looked around them at the bleak deserted yard, the clusters of decaying buildings, the sparking waters beyond. 'What did Scott find?'
'The body.'
Horton blinked. 'I'm sorry. What body?'
'The one that Scott found.'
Horton took a breath. 'Yes, of course. What I mean is, where is this body?'
The man gestured into the heart of the yard. 'Over there.'
'Right. Perhaps you'd better show me first.' Whatever this man had found, it most likely wasn't a body. Maybe something that had been washed up. Someone sleeping rough.
'I don't think that would be right. A young girl like you. You shouldn't have to see that sort of thing.'
Horton reached into the pocket of her track suit for the warrant card she made a point of always carrying, mainly on the off-chance of an incident like this. 'I'm a police officer, Mr…?'
'Stewart. Gordon Stewart. You're a police officer?' There was a note of amazement in his voice, as if the concept of a young female officer was beyond his comprehension.
'I am, Mr Stewart. A Detective Sergeant. If you could show me what you've found, I can decide what's best to do.'
'Aye, of course. It was Scott who found it.' The man led the way back into the yard. 'I don't really like him coming in here because there's a lot of glass and rusty metal around. I always worry he might hurt himself. He was off his lead but he's normally quite obedient.'
Horton was happy to let Stewart talk. Whatever it was he'd found, he sounded shaken and she sensed he wanted to keep talking until they'd reached their goal.
'Anyway, this morning,' he went on, 'he suddenly went tearing off. It wasn't like him at all. I wondered what had attracted him. He's not normally like that even with rabbits or rats.' They had reached the first of the buildings. Stewart led them around the corner and then, clearly reluctant to proceed any further, he gestured ahead. 'There. That's where I found Scott.'
Horton didn't need to go any closer to see that, despite her previous scepticism, Stewart's judgement had been correct. The haze of flies around the body suggested it had been lying for some time there in the spring sunshine. 'You stay here, Mr Stewart. I need to take a closer look but if it is what you think, we'll need to ensure that the site isn't disturbed.'
'You think…'
'I don't think anything, Mr Stewart. But if there's an unexplained death we have to treat it as suspicious until we can ascertain otherwise.' The usual police jargon, she thought. The reassuring code you used with the public. 'Do you live nearby, Mr Stewart?'
'Ardersier,' he said. He gave her an address which she recognised – a new-build estate mainly comprising small bungalows. 'I'm parked just up there. I usually drive over here with Scott for his walk in the morning. I used to work here, you know? In the yard. Long time ago.'
'A different place now,' she said.
Stewart wanted to talk, understandably enough given what he'd just stumbled upon but she needed to be calling this in, getting things moving. 'There's no point in keeping you here. We'll need a statement from you in due course…'
'A statement?'
'Just routine. For the record. All you need to do is tell us what happened, anything you might have seen or noticed. If you leave me your address and telephone number, we'll send an officer round to talk to you later today. Is there anyone else at home?'
'My wife.' Stewart glanced at his watch. 'She'll be getting concerned. I'm normally back by now.'
Horton nodded, relieved. She'd been afraid that Stewart might live alone. 'Leave me your details and you can get straight back. You'll be okay to drive?'
He looked puzzled at the question. 'Aye, of course. It's not far.'
'No, of course.' She didn't have her notebook with her, so she keyed his details into the note facility in her phone as he painstakingly spelled out his address and, inevitably, a landline phone number.
She waited till he'd disappeared back up the path towards his car, then dialled the number of the control room. This, she thought with a sigh, would be the first of several phone calls and the start of another very long day.
18
'That's your phone,' Chrissie said, her voice muffled by the duvet.
McKay said something incomprehensible from under the covers. He rolled over, fumbling for his phone on the bedside table, succeeding only in knocking over a glass of water. He sat up. 'Fuck.'
'Just like old times,' Chrissie said. 'I'd forgotten how much fun it was.'
The phone was buzzing away beside the bed. McKay snatched it up.
'It's work, isn't it?'
'It's Ginny.' Finally waking up sufficiently to work out what he ought to be doing, McKay took the call. 'Ginny?'
'You okay, Alec? You sound a bit hassled.'
'You woke me up.' His tone was intended to sound accusatory, but he knew it simply came across as petulant.
'I thought you'd have been up hours ago.'
McKay looked at his watch sitting in a pool of spilled water. Not hours ago, he thought defensively, but she's right. I should have been up. 'You in the office?'
'No, I'm still out in Ardersier.'
'Glad to hear it. Thought you might be getting too keen.'
'I went for a run this morning, out by McDermott's Yard.'
'You don't need to give me a status update, you know, Ginny. I'm not fucking social media.'
'This is serious, Alec. I was out by McDermott's Yard and I found a body–'
'This some sort of elaborate practical joke?' He glanced over at Chrissie, who was listening to his side of the conversation with obvious curiosity. He wondered momentarily whether to mention what exactly Horton had interrupted, but decided neither woman would forgive him if he did.
'No, Alec,' Horton said patiently. 'There's a body. It wasn't me who found him, to be accurate. It was some old guy walking his dog.'
'It's always the fucking dog walkers,' McKay said. 'Do you realise how much quieter our lives would be if people weren't allowed to walk their fucking dogs?'
'That would really make you happier, wouldn't it? Anyway, there's a body. It's been there a day or two, given the state of it, but I can't tell you much else.'
'You've called it in?'
'No, I thought I'd wait a few more days so it could get really decomposed. Yes, of course I've bloody called it in. Got some uniforms coming over to protect the site, examiners supposedly on their way.'
'You think it's suspicious?'
'No real way of knowing at the moment. I've not approached any closer than I needed to confirm it was really what it appeared to me. I'd say male, but that's about all I can tell you and I'm not even certain of that. But it's an odd place to find a body.'
'It is that,' McKay agreed. 'But people, especially kids, do go exploring that place. Somebody might have had an accident. Or some jogger or fucking dog walker having a coronary. Or some junkie sleeping rough…'
'I know. It's all possible. No point in speculating till we know the circumstances. But given we've one unexplained killing on our hands.'
'You thought you might as well add to the list. Fair play, I suppose. But, you're right, might not be a bad idea to be on the scene just in case there is a link. We've got everything in place on the McGuire enquiry now, so that'll trundle on for an hour or two.' McKay and Horton had initiated a variety of activities the previous afternoon, ranging from door to doors in the vicinity of the crime scene through to collecting CCTV footage and ANPR data from cameras around the city. They were still waiting on sign-off of their proposed trip to talk to McGuire's partner and agent in Edinburgh, and hadn't yet managed to track down the elusive Jack Dingwall. 'You spoken to Helena yet?'
'Yes,
I thought I'd better brief her before I called you.'
'Smart move. Always keep your arse covered when you're working with me.'
'We've been together a few years now, Alec. That's one lesson I learnt a long time ago. Anyway, Helena thought the same. Apart from anything else, if it turns out this is connected, it shows we're on the ball.'
'Aye, I imagine the shite will be hitting the proverbial this morning with the McGuire killing.' They'd made that public the previous evening in time for the later TV and radio news bulletins, but the real coverage would come this morning. The full details hadn't been revealed, but there'd be enough for the media to get their teeth into. 'I'll be over as quick as I can.'
'Can't be soon enough,' Horton said. 'Apart from anything else, I wouldn't mind someone relieving me a bit so I can get some clothes on. I'm still in my running gear.'
'Always told you no good would come of all that fitness bollocks. I'm on my way.' He ended the call and looked down at Chrissie, who was lying next to him with a faint smile.
'It brings it all back.'
'Murder investigation,' he said. 'And now we've another body, which may or may not be connected.'
'All go, isn't it?'
'Look, Chrissie, I'm really sorry. Especially after… you know.'
She laughed. 'I've never minded this, Alec. I know it goes with the job. It's what I married. It's one reason I love you.'
He noted the present tense. He couldn't remember the last time she'd said that, even in the counselling sessions. 'But still.'
'That's never been the problem. The problem's been what's been going on between us.'
'I quite enjoyed what was going on between us last night.'
'Only quite? Alec, this is the best it's been between us since… since as long as I can remember.'
'You think we're on our way back then?'
She hesitated so long he thought she was going to say no. 'On our way, yes. But we're not there yet. I don't want to rush it.'
'But…'
'I'm serious about this, Alec. Last night was terrific. All of it. It feels like we've turned over a new leaf. But let's have a day or two to reflect before we take the next step, eh?'
'This your way of letting me down gently?'
'You know me better than that. If I were going to let you down, there'd be nothing gentle about it. Look, give it a day or so. Just so we're both certain where we want to go next. Then you come round to supper at home.'
'Home?'
'Aye, home. Our home. Not this dump.'
McKay looked around the tiny bedroom. 'You know how much time I've spent on this place?'
'Aye, bugger all. Come round tomorrow night. Have supper with me. We'll take it from there.'
He nodded, knowing this was the best offer he was going to get. 'It's a deal. I'd better get up, get showered and go and relieve Ginny. And see whether we've got another killing on our hands. You want me to give you a lift in?'
'If you've got time,' she said. 'I could get a cab.'
'I'll drop you off. It's not really out of the way.' He paused. 'In any case, it'll be good to get a glimpse of home.'
19
Jane had no idea what had happened the previous evening after Elizabeth's outburst. After a few moments, Netty Munro had followed Elizabeth into the house. It had been a long time, perhaps half an hour or so, before she'd rejoined them. In the meantime, Henry Dowling had continued to strum away at her guitar, singing them what Jane assumed were folk songs. Dowling's voice was lovely, smoother and more resonant than Munro's but without the same ability to bring the songs to life. Or perhaps, Jane thought, it was just that the moment had passed, the intensity dispelled by Elizabeth's unexpected reaction.
The night had grown dark around them, the decking lit only by the second-hand glow from the living room. Below them, Jane could make out the lights on the far side of the firth, the dense cluster of houses in Dingwall, the line of the A9, the occasional passing of a car across the Cromarty Bridge. The sky had remained clear and the first stars were visible. Between Dowling's songs, the night felt eerily quiet, with no birdsong or breath of wind. To Jane it felt as magical as ever, but there was something else. A sense of threat. A sense of unease. Something not quite right. She didn't know whether it was what Elizabeth had said, her oddly disproportionate response to that first song. Or whether it was the songs themselves. The sound of something old and primitive, the stories whose full meaning remained tantalisingly out of reach.
* * *
When Munro finally returned, she told them Elizabeth had retired to her room. 'She was exhausted, poor thing. Today must have taken more out of her than she'd realised.'
Jane wasn't sure she really believed this. Elizabeth hadn't struck her as the type who would be affected by the experience of moving there. Her behaviour had reminded Jane of something different. It was like the outbursts of anger she had encountered sometimes from her dad or with Iain, a response triggered by almost anything. In their cases, the anger was often fuelled by drink, but it was always an undirected fury at a world they felt had never treated them fairly. Elizabeth's sudden emotion had felt similar – an explosion of something that had been building for a long time.
Munro had emerged from the house clutching a bottle of single malt, and was now pouring a glass for everyone. Jane wanted to refuse – she was already feeling light-headed from the wine – but felt it would be impolite. She hesitated then copied Munro in adding a splash of water from the jug on the table.
She'd had whisky before, of course. Iain would sometimes come back with a bottle he'd acquired from some dubious source. But he rarely got his hands on anything but cheap blended stuff and, on the few occasions he'd managed to obtain something better, he wasn't inclined to share it with Jane. This was a local whisky, Munro had proclaimed. That, as with the food, seemed important to her for reasons Jane didn't entirely understand. She took a nervous sip, expecting the spirit to burn the back of her throat.
It did, but there was a flavour and warmth there she realised she liked. It felt right for that time on a warm spring evening, a soothing and comforting end to an unexpected day. Munro had picked up her guitar again, and she and Dowling were playing together, a tapestry of sound that somehow matched the complexity of the whisky.
For a few minutes, Jane allowed herself to be lost in the experience. She was no longer thinking, no longer worrying about what tomorrow might bring. About whether this would really last. She couldn't recall when she'd felt more content than this, and she decided she might as well just go with it.
* * *
It was another half hour or so before the party finally began to break up. Munro and Dowling both seemed still full of energy, but Jane could see that Alicia was beginning to wilt. Munro had clearly spotted it too, and, putting aside her guitar, said, 'You're looking tired, dear. Do you want to be getting off to bed?'
Alicia blinked as if the question had been unexpected. 'I think I'd better. Can hardly keep my eyes open.'
Jane decided to take the opportunity to say her own goodnights, not wanting to find herself alone with the two older women. 'I think I'd better call it a night too, if that's okay.'
'Of course,' Munro said. 'You can leave us two oldsters to put the world to rights.'
'Do you need any help with the washing-up?'
Munro shook her head. 'Not tonight, dear. That's another one of my rules. The first night is always down to me. In the future, you can give me more of a hand, but we'll take that gradually.'
'Are you sure?'
'It's one of my rules. And my rules are rock solid.' It wasn't entirely clear whether she was joking.
'Okay. I won't argue. What time do you want us up in the morning?'
'Sleep as long as you need to tomorrow. Again, we'll get into a routine before too long, but you need time to rest first. Come down when you're ready. I'll be around somewhere.'
Jane nodded, feeling slightly uneasy with this response. She wasn't used to it. She was used t
o people telling her what to do. Sometimes pointlessly, sometimes arbitrarily. Sometimes backed by the threat of violence. But never leaving space for her to argue or express her own views. 'Thank you. Goodnight then.'
She made her way back into the house, Alicia following silently behind her. They climbed the stairs to the first floor without speaking, but as they reached the landing Alicia said, 'I'm glad you're here, Jane. You seem nice.'
The words were unexpected, not least because Alicia had said almost nothing to her all evening. 'I try to be,' Jane said awkwardly, unsure how else to respond. 'What do you make of this place, Alicia?'
Alicia always seemed nonplussed by a direct question. 'I don't know. Netty's lovely. I've only been here a few weeks, but she's been very kind. I'm not really used to that.'
'Me neither. I just wonder what it is she wants. Why she's doing this, I mean.'
'I don't know if she wants anything. I think she's just doing it because she thinks it's the right thing to do.'
Jane wanted to believe it. She still had an awful fear that she might wake up and find herself back in the centre, that she'd somehow dreamed or imagined it all. 'What about the work? What is it she gets you to do?'
'Not much so far. I mean just helping round the house and doing a bit of stuff in the kitchen. I've helped her peel potatoes and that sort of thing, and done a bit of cleaning. But nothing very difficult so far.'
'Doesn't sound bad. Let's see what tomorrow brings.'
Alicia nodded. 'Goodnight. I hope we can be friends.' She sounded like a character in a children's book, Jane thought. She'd borrowed some of those books from the library as a child – the kind of books where posh girls went to boarding schools and lived a perfect life. Her mam had always encouraged her to read, but she'd had to hide the books from her dad.
'Sure we will be, Alicia,' Jane said.
She entered her bedroom, feeling more relaxed once she'd closed the door behind her. She had no nightwear, so she'd have to sleep in her T-shirt. The room was warm and she pushed open the window to breathe in the night air, fresh with some floral scent that Jane didn't recognise. Her room was above the decking area, with the same view of the firth they'd enjoyed over dinner.