Dani glanced up. “Sure, I’ll have anything edible that looks fresh, and a coffee, if there’s a decent machine.”
The DS seemed pleased, perhaps worrying that the DCI was a single-minded city-type who didn’t approve of lunch breaks.
Dani wasn’t actually that hungry, but she wanted to be left alone with Juliet’s documents for as long as possible. From the residual smell of stale tobacco that clung to the officer’s clothes, she assumed he’d also take the time to have a smoke while he was gone. It suited her fine.
When the door to the flat was pulled shut, Dani went straight into the bedroom, where it was always possible to gain a reasonable sense of the person who occupied it. The bed was a small double, pushed to one wall to accommodate an exercise bench with weights resting on it. A single wardrobe housed a rail of simple blouses and tailored trousers, the drawers beneath holding the well-worn sweatshirts and jogging pants which were clearly Juliet’s usual attire.
There were no photographs on the bedside table or windowsill and the painted walls were devoid of ornamentation. The room was sterile and anonymous. It reminded Dani of a prison cell. The kind that those convicts lucky enough to be sent to one of Scotland’s more modern institutions would be allocated.
She exited swiftly and sat on an uncomfortable stool to survey the paperwork. Highlands and Islands had made copies of everything. Amongst the copious sheets was a thick pile of bank statements. Juliet’s main income was her police pension, which she supplemented with cheques from clients who used her services as a fitness instructor. The sums were modest, but then, so were the woman’s outgoings. The rent and bills on the flat didn’t make much of a dent and Juliet barely withdrew much else.
The former policewoman was living an almost ascetic existence here in Fort William. Dani tried to recall if this matched with what she knew of Juliet’s character back in their days at Cowcaddens Road.
DI Lowther had worked hard, but then she’d played hard too. The officers used to drink in Dobbie’s Bar, not far from what was the old Glasgow Poly. Juliet enjoyed a whisky like many of her male counterparts. The DCI even recalled being given a lift by her mentor on one occasion. They’d attended a training class together on a Saturday morning. Dani had a vague recollection that Juliet’s car was small but sporty, the seats covered in a luxurious leather.
Dani was the only one of her contemporaries who didn’t drink heavily back in those days. The knowledge of what had happened to her mother prevented that. It made Dani something of an outsider, until she rose through the ranks and the culture within policing started to change.
But Juliet was of that old guard. Dani recalled the smoke-filled backroom of Dobbie’s, where bottles of scotch lined up along the dark wooden tables between the officers and their chubby, expensive cigars, smouldering in ashtrays. In the mornings which followed one of these nights, Dani would wake to find her throat coated in an unpleasant, tar-like substance. The nasty deposit had to be vigorously coughed away, even though she’d not taken a single puff from one of the cigars herself.
The sound of the front door opening shook Dani abruptly out of the memory. But the smell of fresh cigarette smoke that followed DS Forrest into the flat transported the DCI straight back to the seedy pub nights of her early career.
She accepted her lunch with a grateful smile and returned to the task.
Chapter 8
The man who entered DI Peyton’s tiny temporary office was tall and broad. He almost filled the entire space.
Grant shook his hand solemnly. “You didn’t need to travel out here to Nabb, sir. Your sister’s body has been taken to a mortuary on the mainland.”
Charles Lowther nodded. “I know, but I wanted to come out here and see where Juliet was found.” The man possessed a head of thick silver hair. A deep tan illuminated his rugged skin. His voice was tinged with a hint of transatlantic drawl.
“When did you last see you sister?” Peyton perched on the edge of a bookcase, aware of how dwarfed he would be if he sat at the desk chair.
Lowther rubbed his chin. “I’m ashamed to admit it was a couple of years ago. I came to Glasgow on a business trip in 2015, we met for dinner whilst I was there. Juliet never came out to LA to visit.”
“Was there a reason for that? You were her only family, after all.”
He crinkled his forehead into a frown. “I left the UK twenty-five years go. Juliet was a busy cop but still found the time to care for our mother in old age. I believe my sister felt I’d abdicated my responsibilities for the good life. We’d not been close since we were kids.”
Peyton nodded. “Your mother died in 2013?”
“That’s right. My wife and I flew over for the funeral, but we left the girls with Sasha’s mom. My daughters had never really known their Grandma.”
“So, you weren’t in regular contact with Juliet in recent years – you have no knowledge of whether she had a boyfriend or if there were any issues that were troubling her?” Peyton scanned the man’s face. His expression was frozen with tension. A blood vessel was pumping on his right temple.
“Juliet was a very resilient, independent woman. I don’t reckon there was a man out there who would’ve been a match for her long-term.” He sighed heavily. “If anything bad was going on with Juliet, I’d have been the last person she’d tell.”
Peyton dipped his head. “Okay, that’s enough questions for now. I’ve arranged for one of the police boats to take you out to Ghiant at eleven. Have you packed anything warm?”
“Sure. I haven’t been away from Scotland for so long that I’m not prepared for the weather.” His broad shoulders relaxed a little. “I just want to see where she was laid, Inspector. I’m hoping it will make me feel closer to her – less like I’d abandoned her completely.”
The DI placed his hand on Lowther’s arm. “I understand. She’s at peace now.”
He cleared his throat. “When can I start planning the funeral.”
“The PM has been completed but this is still an ongoing murder investigation. It might be a few weeks before we release her to you.”
Lowther nodded, obviously not trusting himself to speak. Tears were pooling in his eyes.
“I’m not sure how Juliet felt about the force in the last few years,” Peyton continued, “but the DCC would like to give your sister a police funeral. She’d served with us valiantly for a long time. Juliet won several medals for bravery.”
The tears finally escaped, running through the rivulets of his coarsely lined cheeks. “I think she’d have wanted that. Our mom was so proud of her when she made DI. Far prouder than she’d ever been of me.”
*
The stone causeway had suffered from the merciless erosion of the sea. Part of it had long since slumped under the waves and Charles Lowther had to wade through knee-deep water to come ashore from the police tender.
Peyton followed at a respectful distance. He allowed the man to reach the main road of Ghiant’s largest settlement before he caught him up and directed Lowther towards what remained of Rushbrooke Farm.
The outhouse in which Juliet’s body had been found was cordoned off with police tape. Peyton had made the decision not to assign one of his officers to preserve the scene. They’d got all the forensics they needed. An area so open to the elements would very quickly be of no use to them. The tape was only really still in place as a mark of respect. As it was, the local police were strictly limiting the number of vessels allowed access to the island.
The DI led the way to a far corner of the barn. The roof was entirely gone and the concrete floor was strewn with leaves and branches, except for the oblong area where the body had lain, which was newly cleared. Peyton was suddenly relieved that the wounds had bled out before the victim had reached this point. He wouldn’t have wanted Charles to see the inevitable stains that would have remained otherwise.
Lowther got down on his haunches, glancing about him. “How long was Juliet here before someone found her?”
“A da
y or two at the most,” Peyton replied. “But she was already dead before reaching here. We are currently trying to find the place where she was assaulted.”
Lowther turned his head and met the DI’s gaze. “And the cause of death were the multiple stab wounds to the body?”
Peyton thought the man almost sounded like an expert. Then everyone was these days, with the benefit of wall-to-wall crime dramas on the telly. “Yes. Death would have been swift, particularly once the carotid artery was severed.”
“There would have been a lot of blood, then?” Lowther’s statement was almost clinical, delivered without emotion.
“That’s correct. It’s the reason we know Juliet wasn’t killed here.”
Lowther slowly stood. “The attack on Juliet must have been incredibly ferocious and violent. What did my sister do to invoke such fury and hatred?”
Peyton could tell the man was trying to make sense of the event. It happened all the time with families of victims of particularly brutal crimes. The sad thing was, there was often no satisfactory explanation. “We’re trying to find that out, sir. From our investigations so far, Juliet appears to have been a loner since leaving the Force. In this type of assault, we usually look carefully at a lover or ex-lover. If the perpetrator were a spurned or jealous partner it would go some way to explain the passion involved in the manner of the crime.”
“But Juliet didn’t have a lover,” Lowther commented. “Or not one she told anyone about.”
“Was your sister a lesbian?” Peyton knew that plenty of his fellow female officers were. He thought it might explain why Juliet kept her love life private.
Lowther shook his head. “I really don’t think so. Juliet had plenty of boyfriends as a teenager.” He wrinkled his face in thought. “I’m sure she had a bloke when she was based in Glasgow. He was a fellow officer, I’m sure. I think I even met him at Mum’s place once.”
“How long ago was this?” Peyton tried to hide his excitement.
“It must be over a decade. I got the sense he was long off the scene now.” Lowther looked about him and shuddered, as if abruptly realising where he was. “I think I want to leave this place now.”
“Of course.” Peyton led the way back to the jetty.
Clouds were moving in from the west, covering the sun and removing any hint of warmth.
The tide had dropped and the police skipper had brought the tender up onto the beach. Peyton climbed in first and offered his hand to Lowther.
As they gazed back at the darkening landscape, Peyton had a sudden thought. “Mr Lowther, had your sister been to this island before? Is it somewhere your family visited? We’re working on the possibility that Juliet was brought here for a reason.”
Lowther shook his head. “I can’t see any reason why she’d come to a lonely place like this. I certainly don’t recall our folks ever bringing us here.” His thick body shuddered once again, despite the padded jacket he was wearing. “I mean, why the heck would you want to?”
Chapter 9
A fire had been lit in the grate. Alice and Andy sat opposite one another in leather high-backed chairs, tumblers of whisky resting on the arms.
“When is the boss due back from Fort William?” Alice asked.
Her companion shrugged. “She’s still liaising with the officers examining the victim’s property. After that, Bevan suggested she might return to Glasgow and talk to a few of Lowther’s ex-colleagues at Cowcaddens.”
The DI nodded. “So, we’ll focus on helping Peyton find the murder scene?”
Andy finished his dram. “Aye, but it’s a huge task. The brother turning up hasn’t provided us with any fresh information as to why the victim would have been in this area before she died.”
Alice sighed. “He’d barely seen his sister in two decades.” She turned and signalled to the barman of the Gordon Hotel to bring them a couple more shots. “He didn’t know Juliet at all.”
“The woman was certainly a loner.”
Alice relaxed back into the worn upholstery, cradling the whisky in her hands. “I hope I don’t end up like that after I retire.”
Andy chuckled. “It’s hardly in prospect. You’ve got Fergus now anyway. It’s more likely to be Dan or Sharon who’ll be heading up the lonely hearts’ club.”
Alice grimaced. “Don’t let them hear you say that. I expect they both believe there’s plenty of time left for them to meet the right person. I certainly wasn’t looking for a relationship when Fergus came along.” She tipped her glass towards Andy. “You never know, Carol might finally get sick of you. Dan and Sharon might not be the only ones in that club come retirement.”
Andy looked suddenly wistful. “Aye, you may well be right there. I don’t really deserve her and Amy.”
Alice cleared her throat awkwardly, she’d only meant the comment as a friendly jibe. Calder was quick to dish out the abuse, he couldn’t be too sensitive about being on the receiving end. She changed the subject. “Are you still suspicious about that fisherman you interviewed? The forensics on his boat came back clear.”
“He evaded interview for several days and spends a lot of time alone on Ghiant. He seemed to be suggesting that folk from the other islands used the place for illicit activities. I reckon Ballater has either witnessed this stuff or taken part in it himself. I’d like to have another word with him. Maybe you could come too, see what you make of the guy?”
“Sure, good idea.”
Andy glanced past the wing-back of Alice’s chair and watched an elderly couple exiting the dining room, arm-in-arm. He rose to his feet and waved them over. “Come and have a nightcap with us,” he called out.
Bill and Joy turned their heads at the sound of Calder’s voice. Bill glanced solicitously at his wife. “We’ll join you for a quick one, Detective Sergeant, then it will be time for us to turn in.”
Alice pulled across another couple of chairs. Andy ordered the brandies.
“It’s good of you to remember our tipple,” Bill commented amiably.
“We’ve been through our fair share of crises together,” Andy said with a grin. “I could hardly forget.”
Alice surreptitiously took in the appearance of Joy Hutchison, who seemed small and frail in the oversized chair. The woman didn’t appear well. Which made her next comment deeply ironic.
“You look very pale, DI Mann. I hope you’re not coming down with something. Perhaps you caught a chill on the ferry crossing?”
Alice rubbed at her cheeks, a subconscious practice she’d adopted for when she wanted to inject some colour into them. “I’m feeling grand, Mrs Hutchison. This case is less strenuous for us than most.”
“Because DI Peyton is the SIO?” Bill suggested.
Andy nodded. “We’re here to consult with Highlands and Islands. The buck stops with them.”
“But once you’re involved in a murder case, there must surely be the same desire to find the perpetrator, especially when you get to know the background of the victim?” Bill received two brandies from the waiter and set one down in front of Joy.
“Aye, that’s true. And in this instance, the boss did actually know the victim. It’s the reason we’re here.”
Bill narrowed his eyes with curiosity. “Oh yes?”
Andy lowered his voice. “The victim was a retired police officer. Dani had worked under her down in Glasgow, earlier in her career. The SIO wants the boss to help build a character profile of the victim.”
Alice cast him a warning look. “We shouldn’t discuss the details of the case,” she muttered.
“It’s okay. Bill and Joy have really helped us in the past,” he added cheerfully. “Bill’s provided some valuable input over the years. I’d even suggest his insights have cracked a couple of big cases.”
Bill shook his head bashfully. “I wouldn’t go that far, DS Calder.”
Joy sipped her brandy, seeming to find it a struggle to swallow. Once she had, she glanced at Andy. “Did the DCI know this woman well? Is she very upset by
the murder? Because Danielle has had enough on her plate in recent years.”
Andy nodded. “I can understand your concern, but Dani hadn’t been in contact with the woman for over ten years. The relationship revolved around the job.”
“Still,” Bill added, “the case has a personal dimension for Danielle. We hadn’t realised that.”
Alice suddenly got to her feet. “I’m tired after a long day. Please excuse me, I’m going up to my room.” The DI opened her wallet and left a crisp note on the table, exiting the lounge with haste.
Joy turned to watch her depart. “That young lady isn’t at all well.”
“I hope it’s nothing contagious,” Andy added with a frown.
Bill leant forward conspiratorially. “I’m glad we’ve got you alone, DS Calder.”
Andy drained his glass, experiencing an unpleasant tingle of apprehension. “Oh, aye?”
Bill took Joy’s hand. “I know it must seem odd to you, us still being here on Nabb?”
Andy shrugged his shoulders. The Hutchisons had always been unconventional. This wasn’t the weirdest thing they’d ever done.
“But you see, it has become very important that we remain close to the island.”
Andy crinkled his brow, confused about Bill’s meaning.
“Ghiant. The island where Joy’s family lived.” The older man smoothed down his corduroy trousers, before lifting his gaze to meet Andy’s again. “The island has great significance for Joy. She’s waited a long time to return there. It represents an intensely happy time from her past.”
Andy was starting to feel uncomfortable about where this was going.
Bill cast his wife a sideward glance and clutched her hand more tightly. “We’ve suffered great loss in our lives. The passing of Sergeant Sharpe, the man who saved my life, was yet another such tragedy.” He cleared his throat. “Since then, Joy has been having the most vivid dreams about Ghiant. Her memories of the place are crystal-clear. We have grown certain over recent months that we must go there. Joy’s health is deteriorating. We haven’t much time. I know that the island will heal her.”
The Dark Isle Page 4