But after a while, Dani managed to re-capture a picture of Lowther as a young DI, leaning across her desk and drawing in her team with those piercing, sky blue eyes.
One of the earliest cases they worked on together involved the suspicious death of a minor at a rehabilitation centre for recovering addicts in Sighthill. The publicity hadn’t been welcomed by the local authority who ran the facility. But Juliet had been determined to investigate the young man’s death thoroughly.
Dani sipped the coffee she’d ordered and tried to summon up the details of that particular case. The boy who died was fifteen years old, although she couldn’t recall his name. His body was found in the gymnasium early one morning. He had a nasty head wound and bruising to his back and shins. The staff claimed he’d been using the equipment after hours and fell to the hard floor where he passed away from his injuries.
The PM was inconclusive, but revealed traces of alcohol and marijuana in his system. This triggered a full investigation. The boys at the centre shouldn’t have been able to get hold of any drugs.
Dani recalled how tenacious Juliet had been in her questioning. They liaised regularly with the boy’s parents who were devastated. They’d had him committed to the facility to get him cured, not to sign his death warrant.
What they discovered was a web of corruption amongst the staff, who took money in return for distributing small amounts of weed and bottles of booze amongst the patients. The boy’s death was deemed unlawful due to a breach of care by the institution and the local authority. The parents received a moderate pay-out and the centre was closed down.
Dani wondered if Juliet had made any enemies during that case. A couple of dozen people lost their jobs and a handful were convicted of minor drug offenses. No single individual was blamed for the boy’s death. As far as Dani was concerned, the employees at the centre got off lightly. The governor even went on to manage other facilities, claiming he knew nothing about the illegal actions of his staff.
There didn’t appear to be any reason why this investigation would be connected to Juliet’s murder. Dani sighed, lifting her cup to her lips and draining the contents. She stared hard at the curtain of wispy clouds hanging over the water, as if they represented the fug that seemed to be enveloping her brain. It was preventing her from extracting with any clarity the memories of her time at Cowcaddens Road Police Station which were necessary to provide Peyton with the information he wanted. If she looked closely enough, perhaps the mist would clear.
“Aye, the weather could certainly be better,” a voice behind Dani abruptly declared. She’d been so engrossed in her own thoughts that she’d not noticed anyone else entering the room.
The DCI twisted around to face the person who had interrupted her reverie. “Bill? What on earth are you doing here?”
Bill Hutchison pulled up a chair and joined her. “I might ask you the same thing. Joy and I are on holiday. We were hoping to do some island hopping, then the boatman made a grisly discovery and put our plans on hold. We’re staying at a B&B on the other side of the bay.”
Dani shook her head vigorously, in undisguised disbelief. “I had no idea you were on Nabb. Have you been interviewed by the Highlands and Islands detectives?”
“Aye, on the day the body was found. Joy and I were at the harbour when the police were called. We gave a brief statement, but the officers weren’t much interested in what we had to say. We’d only just arrived, you see. We’d not set foot on Ghiant yet.”
Dani glanced down at the file placed on the table between them. “I hadn’t got around to reading all of the statements yet.”
“Well. You’ll not find anything useful in ours.”
She took a deep breath, trying to regain some composure. “How is Joy – are you both keeping well?” Dani felt a sudden pang of guilt, that since a mutual friend of theirs had been killed the year before, she’d barely spoken to the couple, when they’d once been quite close. It had proved a case of ‘out of sight, out of mind’, she supposed.
“Joy has become a little frail in the past six months, I can’t deny. She took Sergeant Sharpe’s death rather badly. We were both very fond of him.”
Dani leant forward and placed her hand on his arm. “I’m sorry I haven’t really been in touch since the funeral. I didn’t find Sam’s death easy either. It seemed simpler to focus on my work.”
Bill nodded sagely. “But you can’t push away everyone who reminds you of him. The grief will catch up with you in the end.”
Dani cleared her throat. This wasn’t a conversation she was keen to have right now. “Why are you and Joy still here? There’s not much to see on Nabb. The ferry is running to Armadale. I would suggest you opt for a different route. Skye is very beautiful at this time of year.”
Bill nodded. “I know it seems odd that we’re hanging about like this, but there’s more to it than a thwarted day trip.” He raised his gaze to meet hers. “Joy’s aunt and her family lived on Ghiant in the forties and fifties. They were amongst the last inhabitants to leave the island. She has wanted to go back and see the place for decades. This was the first time we’d got around to making the arrangements. If I’m honest, I was worried that in future years, Joy might not still be able to manage the trip.”
Dani shuffled forward in her seat, her interest piqued. “So, Joy has a connection to the island? Did you mention this to the officers who interviewed you?”
Bill shook his head. “It didn’t seem relevant. The detective simply wanted the details of our movements in the last few days.”
“Yes, that would be normal procedure.” She ran a hand through her hair. “But we’re struggling to find a reason why the victim was left on the island. This case is anything but normal. In this instance, I think it would be worth us finding out everything there is to know about the abandoned Isle of Ghiant. Joy may be just the person to help us.”
A flash of excitement showed in Bill’s eyes. “Well, if you really believe it would be of use to the investigation, Joy and I would be pleased to offer our assistance.”
Chapter 6
Grant Peyton had called a briefing. The detectives gathered in the town hall, beneath a stage area with polished wooden boards upon which the DI had erected a flip chart.
“First of all,” the man began. “I’d like to thank Alice for her assistance with the geographic profiling software. It has allowed us to produce this map.”
Peyton pinned a print-out to the chart. It showed a map of Skye and the Small Isles, encompassing parts of the mainland and reaching as far west as South Uist. “The red circle indicates the area in which our murder site is most likely located.”
Dani examined the locations carefully. She grimaced. “Juliet might have been killed on the mainland. That’s going to make our job much harder.”
“Yes, but the parameters of the circle don’t reach as far as her home in Fort William. Perhaps she travelled out to the west coast of her own volition,” Peyton suggested. “In which case, there may be a record somewhere of her trip.”
“Or the perp kidnapped her from her home and brought her to the murder site in the boot of a car or the back of a van,” Andy chipped in.
Peyton shook his head. “We’ve had a forensic team at the victim’s flat. There was no sign there that indicated an abduction. The bed was recently slept in by the victim and carefully made. All the prints we identified on the premises were Ms Lowther’s. Any others were purely historic. She clearly didn’t have many visitors.”
“Did you remove any personal items – like a computer or written correspondence?” Dani was suddenly alert.
Peyton nodded. “The team at Fort William are analysing the personal contents they found at the place. There was no mobile phone on Juliet’s body and none in her home. We’re currently requesting her landline records.”
“I’d like to take a look at anything you find,” Dani said.
“Of course,” he replied.
Alice shook her head of auburn hair. “Do we think
the perp dumped the victim’s mobile phone before leaving the body on Ghiant? It seems strange to go to the effort of doing that whilst leaving a purse full of identification cards on her person.”
“It may seem impossible for someone of your age to comprehend,” Peyton added with a wry grin, “but perhaps the woman didn’t actually own a mobile.”
Dani nodded slowly. “Juliet certainly didn’t possess a personal mobile phone when I knew her, only one issued by the Force. However, that was a long time ago. But I agree with DI Peyton, it seems entirely possible to me that Juliet didn’t have her own phone. She was always a private person, with few friends or family.”
“We’ll check her standing orders and make sure,” Peyton added.
“She could have had a pay-as-you-go,” Andy muttered, almost under his breath. Like Alice, he wasn’t convinced that anyone in this day and age wouldn’t have a mobile phone, let alone an ex-cop. More loudly, he announced, “what about Sean Ballater’s boat? Did the examination bring up anything of interest?”
One of the Highlands and Islands officers stepped forward. “When we arrived at the address you gave us, which is along a dirt track about two miles from here, only Mrs Ballater was at home. She allowed us full access to the shed where her husband keeps his boats and fishing gear. We went through the lot.” He swept a hand through his coarse, tightly curled hair. “The tender had clearly been out recently. There was still seawater in the hull. The thing was fairly battered up, with no signs it had been recently cleaned. There were lobster pots tied all around the inside, with ancient rust adhered to the ropes securing them there. I cannae see how Ballater could have used it to shift a body as recently as a few days back. Those older pots hadn’t been shifted in years. There just wouldn’t have been room enough.”
Dani was impressed by the thoroughness of the officer’s observations. “What did the wife have to say about her husband’s movements?”
The officer shrugged his shoulders. “She certainly didn’t attempt to provide him with an alibi. Apparently, Ballater is out on the water most days and doesn’t come home until late.”
“That’s the same thing he told me,” Andy confirmed.
“Well, the Ballater place certainly isn’t our murder site,” the officer added.
“Okay,” Peyton said with a certain disappointment in his tone. “We need to get back to finding out where is. I’m certain the key will be in locating the boat that took the body out to Ghiant. I’ve got officers asking questions at all the ports and harbours within our search area. The Fiscal has provided a warrant to search any vessels they have suspicions about.”
Dani nodded encouragingly. “Good.” Then the DCI shifted from one foot to the other, clearing her throat awkwardly.
“Was there something else, Ma’am?” Peyton enquired.
“Actually, there was. It may not be significant, but a couple of friends of mine are here on Nabb. They were at the harbour when the fishermen who found the body were first questioned.”
Peyton raised his head with a jerk, suddenly alert. “Did these friends know Juliet Lowther too?”
Dani shook her head vigorously. “No, not at all. It’s just that one of them had relatives on Ghiant when it was still inhabited. It was why they were trying to travel out there. I thought it might be worth questioning her more thoroughly about the place. Perhaps the island was chosen as a dumping site for a reason.”
The DI shrugged his shoulders. “Maybe so. We aren’t exactly swamped with leads, so it’s worth a punt.” Peyton gestured to one of his officers. “Tom, would you mind taking down the name and looking into it?”
Dani turned to the young officer. “Her name is Joyce Hutchison. The couple are staying at the Celtic Thistle B&B.”
Andy let out what sounded like a cross between a cough and a laugh. “The Hutchisons are here?” He slapped his knee. “I could’ve sworn I saw them the other day by the shore, but I persuaded myself it was simply my mind playing tricks.”
“Oh, they’re here all right,” Dani added grimly. “Slap bang in the middle of our murder investigation.”
Chapter 7
“Of course, I haven’t been up the Cuillin Ridge since I was a young man. If you’re lucky enough to have a day when the mist isn’t down, the views are truly spectacular.”
DC Tom Carrick had left his pen poised over his pad for the last twenty minutes. He was struggling to decipher what was relevant to their investigation from the good-natured ramblings of this old couple.
Bill Hutchison stood and approached the bar to order another pot of tea from one of the hospitality team dressed in a smart tartan skirt and jacket.
Tom seized his moment to address a question to Joy. “Mrs Hutchison, the DCI told me that you’d once visited Ghiant when it was still a thriving island. That must have been something, eh?”
Joy nodded enthusiastically. “My aunty married a Rushbrooke. She had no idea when she met Rob during the war, that marrying him would mean taking on the Rushbrooke smallholding on Ghiant. It came as quite a surprise, I can tell you.”
Tom was a little taken aback himself. This sweet little lady seated before him was probably the last living relative of the owners of Rushbrooke Farm, where Juliet Lowther’s body had been dumped. “When was the farm last occupied?” He asked innocently.
“My family were amongst the last to be evacuated. The boats came in May 1962. Aunty Catrin packed as much as she could in suitcases and a few boxes. But that was all they could manage.” Joy’s expression became suddenly dreamy. “Most of the furniture and fittings were left behind. Much as if people were still living there. My cousin went back a few years later and it made her cry to see the place as if it were stuck in time. Nature had taken over on the ground floors, but her old bedroom was much as she’d left it. The strong winds rattling through the decaying building hadn’t even allowed the dust to settle.”
Bill was back at the table, watching his wife carefully, sensing it was time to let her speak.
“There was a small package of government compensation, which allowed Catrin and Rob to set up in a cottage in Arisaig, where an old army friend of Rob’s gave him a job.”
“It doesn’t seem much of a replacement when you’ve lost your family business and the home of your forebears,” Tom added with genuine feeling.
“Oh, the islanders were used to such injustices,” Bill chipped in. “The forcible evictions during the highland clearances of the mid-nineteenth century had already ravaged many island communities and left hard-working folk with nothing.”
Concerned that the old man might be about to launch into a lengthy history of the western isles, Tom quickly said, “Joy, can you recall any of the other families who lived on Ghiant with the Rushbrookes?”
Joy furrowed her brow and sipped some tea. “There was a family living near the farm who ran the post office and store. They were amongst the last to leave along with Catrin and Rob.” She shook her head in frustration. “I simply cannot recall their names. I know we played with the post master’s boy, who was the same age as myself and Aisling. There were a few others, in the crofters’ cottages further up the hill. I’m sorry, I can’t remember who any of them were.”
Tom was worried the woman was about to cry. Tears had pooled in her eyes, dislodging the clumpy mascara edging them. “Not to worry, madam. It was over fifty years ago. Nobody would expect you to, it was a silly question.”
“The memory of her family on Ghiant makes my wife upset sometimes,” Bill said by way of explanation. “Joy and I have lost so much in the course of our lives. The abandoned island has become a symbol of this loss for us.”
The policeman didn’t entirely understand what Hutchison was on about, but he recognised that their interview was over. He finished off his tea. “Thank you very much for your assistance, Mrs Hutchison. You’ve been most helpful.”
*
Dani had taken the morning ferry to Arisaig on the mainland, where local officers had supplied her with an unmarke
d car for the drive to Fort William.
The journey took less than an hour. The route was nothing less than stunning. The mighty Glenfinnan viaduct marked the halfway point and as she swept through the streets of Fort William, searching for her destination, the peak of Ben Nevis flashed in and out of view.
The block of flats was unremarkable by comparison. A tall man with a creased jacket leant against the wall by the entrance doors. He put out a hand as Dani approached.
“DS Forrest, Ma’am.”
The DCI introduced herself. “Can we go inside?”
“Aye, and I’ve brought over the effects that you requested.”
Juliet’s flat was on the first floor. A tiny printed name tag had been slotted into a plastic casing above the bell. The DS produced a key ring and turned a deadlock before using the Yale.
“Not bad security,” Dani commented.
“That’s right. We found no evidence of a break-in. The windows were all secure. There’s a buzzer entry system down on ground level too, but we know how easy they are to bypass.”
“When did her neighbours last see Ms Lowther?” Dani was allowing her gaze to take in the compact arrangement of small rooms.
“The retired lady below saw her on the Saturday morning before her death. She happened to be out front pruning the rose bush. She said Juliet went out with a shopping bag about mid-morning and came home an hour later. She’s seen nothing since, but says that’s not unusual. Her sitting room window faces the garden rather than the street. That’s where the old dear spends most of her time. It’s a modern block with pretty good sound-proofing.”
Dani noticed that a neat stack of papers had been placed on the narrow kitchen table. “Are those her effects?”
Forrest nodded. “Aye, sit down and have a read. I need to go and get myself a sandwich anyhow. There’s a petrol garage at the end of the street. Want me to fetch you something, Ma’am?”
The Dark Isle Page 3