The Dark Isle

by Katherine Pathak

  “We’ve chatted on the phone, but I’ve not told him my news. It seems more appropriate to discuss the matter face-to-face.”

  “Aye, I expect you’re right there.”

  Andy felt a movement behind him.

  Bill Hutchison was emerging from the dimly lit residents’ lounge. The detective immediately wondered how much the man had heard of their conversation.

  “Good evening, Detectives. Will Joy and I have the pleasure of seeing you at dinner?” Bill dipped his head towards the menu board that Alice was still poring over.

  “Aye, Bill. We’ve not got the time to be frequenting the finer restaurants of Nabb.”

  “Oh, good. We’ll see you later then.” Bill paused. “Joy and I were woken by all the commotion in the night. It was difficult not to be.”

  “Then you’ll know a man was found dead further up the coast from here.” Andy was determined not to give away any other information.

  Bill nodded gravely. “Young Sean Ballater. One of the waitresses told us at lunch. News travels fast in a small community such as this. What a shame, he was clearly a very helpful individual.”

  Andy rolled his eyes, hoping that Bill wasn’t going to let something slip about their clandestine trip to Ghiant in front of Alice.

  Bill carried on, “of course, somebody that willing to assist others might well find themselves wrapped up in situations which could turn out to be extremely dangerous. Who pays the ferryman? And all that. It would have been difficult for the man to remain separate from the jobs he did.” He tapped his nose in an exaggerated way.

  “Where’s Joy?” Andy asked gruffly. “Shouldn’t you be checking on her, Bill?”

  “Oh yes,” he replied. “I’ll go and see if she’s ready to dress for dinner.”

  “You do that,” Andy rumbled, watching the man ascend the stairs.

  “What the hell was he talking about?” Alice hissed under her breath.

  Andy shook his head in annoyance, “It’s nothing. You know the nonsense they both spout.” But much to the detective’s irritation, he recognised there was a tiny hint of truth in what Bill Hutchison had said.

  He just wasn’t exactly sure how to pursue this nugget of truth about Ballater’s activities without dropping himself right into the shit.

  Chapter 25

  The traffic on Cowcaddens Road was at a standstill. Dani craned her neck to see what the hold-up was ahead. There seemed to be no reason for the jam except the sheer volume of traffic heading in the direction of the university and bus depot.

  As soon as the opportunity arose, Dani swept her car onto a side street, finding a tiny space on double-yellow lines and sticking her police ID badge in the window. She continued the rest of the way on foot.

  The Fire Station was in the same location as it had been ten years ago. Today, the huge twin garages, housing the two engines stationed there, were firmly closed. Dani was meeting the station manager, Oliver Jameson.

  She pushed open the door to the reception area, showing her card to a middle-aged man behind the counter.

  “Good Morning, DCI Bevan,” he replied, leaning forward to offer her his hand. “I’m the manager. We only have a skeleton operational staff right now, so no task can be considered too lowly.” He raised his arms to highlight his current occupation.

  “I appreciate you agreeing to meet with me. You must be busy.”

  “Come upstairs to my office. We can talk in there.”

  Dani followed Jameson up a modern staircase to an open-plan landing with sofas and coffee tables positioned at regular intervals across the floor. This large area was empty except for one man, reclining on a chair and watching the news on a television set bracketed onto the wall. His feet were in thick yellow socks and his legs outstretched in front of him, ankle over ankle. Jameson nodded in recognition of his presence.

  “We’ve only got a couple of crew on duty right now. This is usually a quiet time of the day. I’ll have a full house by six.”

  The office was smaller, the desk strewn with paperwork.

  “How long have you been the manager here?” Dani sat on a swivel chair and wheeled it in closer.

  “I was a member of the volunteer crew until 2010. Then I applied for a permanent management position. I’ve been doing this job ever since.”

  “The man I’m interested in was a volunteer here some time before 2007.”

  “Aye, so you said on the phone. I would have known him then.”

  “Sean Ballater. He moved away when he got married, becoming a fisherman up in the Small Isles.”

  Jameson nodded slowly. “I certainly knew Sean. We were good mates back in the day.”

  “I’m sorry to have to tell you that he died a couple of days ago. Mr Ballater was drowned off the coast of Nabb.”

  Jameson looked genuinely shocked. “Jeez, that’s awful. He can barely have been forty years old. Poor wee Gail.”

  Dani sighed. “It’s a tragedy. But not the only one to befall the islands in the past few weeks. A body was also found on Nabb’s twin island of Ghiant. The victim was an ex-police officer. We believe that Sean Ballater knew her from his time here in Glasgow.”

  Jameson narrowed his eyes cautiously. “What was her name?”

  “Juliet Lowther. But when she worked at the Cowcaddens Road Police Station, she was DI Lowther.”

  The manager’s features had turned pale. “Sean would have known her, yes. The whole team did back then, after the bombing, I mean.”

  Dani got a notebook out of her bag. “You’d better tell me the full story, Mr Jameson.”

  He rubbed his face, as if drying it with an imaginary towel. “When we got the call-out back in the May of 2006, informing us there’d been an explosion at the bus depot, all volunteers were expected to come in immediately, whether they were on duty or not. Sean and I were among a group of about fifteen men who responded to the bombing.”

  “It must have been very difficult,” Dani added carefully.

  “It was. There were fires that needed putting out from the initial explosion. Sean and I worked on that. We manned the hoses until we got the blazes under control. After that, the primary need was to get members of the public away from the building, which was probably structurally unsafe.”

  “Did you go into the bus station to bring the injured out?”

  Jameson nodded, his brow had beaded with sweat, although the temperature in the room was cool. “We worked with the police officers from Cowcaddens Station. The area needed cordoning off before the bomb squad arrived. We received the news that another device had been identified in the ticket hall.”

  “DI Lowther and DS Travis continued to bring members of the public out of the ticket office, even after a potential second device had been located. Did any of your firefighters do the same?”

  Jameson sighed heavily. “I didn’t know any of the police officers’ names back then, I learned those later, when we were given our bravery awards. I knew there were cops still bringing folk out, but our crew supervisor told us to man the cordon. He was very insistent about that. To be honest, there was a lot of chaos. Smoke and debris everywhere and people screaming – in pain and panic, running for their lives. It was hard to know who was doing what.”

  “And Sean Ballater, was he on the cordon with you?”

  Jameson crinkled his brow. “He was definitely there for a while, but like I said. It was hard to keep track. In the end, myself and my colleagues were assisting the paramedics with first aid. We did whatever we could.”

  “You met DI Lowther after the terrorist attack?”

  “We were all invited to a ceremony at the City Chambers six months later. There was a drinks reception after the awards were given out. Our entire watch received medals, along with the paramedic team and a few of the cops. Sean and I spoke with the woman police officer afterwards. We had a few drinks together, discussed the problem of terrorism, that kind of thing. An event like that, it creates a bond between those who witnessed it.”


  “I can imagine. Did Sean see DI Lowther after this event?”

  Jameson shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Will knowing this really help Sean and his wife? Can’t we let him rest in peace?”

  “Not really, sir. It appears likely that Sean’s death wasn’t accidental. If I can prove a connection with Juliet Lowther’s murder, then I’ve got a better chance of finding his killer.”

  Jameson sighed, wiping his hands down his trousers. “I could see that Sean was getting on well with her. I think he went home with her that night.”

  “Was Sean with Gail at that time?”

  “Yes. Gail was a nurse at the infirmary. They’d been going out for a few years. But before they married, Sean slept around. He often picked up women in bars.”

  “Did you think this liaison with DI Lowther was just a one-night stand?”

  “I knew it wasn’t. Sean talked about her for a while. He told me how much more experienced she was, compared to Gail. If you know what I mean?”

  Dani nodded. “I know what you mean.”

  “It lasted maybe six months. I put it down to the shared trauma. Nobody else understood what we’d been through that day in 2006. Only those who’d suffered it too. I experienced a rocky patch with my wife. She wanted me to snap out of my bad mood. I felt like she existed on another planet.”

  “Why did Sean and Juliet’s relationship end?”

  “I genuinely don’t know. For a while, I thought Sean might ditch Gail for good. Then he produced the engagement ring he’d bought for her and never mentioned Juliet again. Within a few months, they’d tied the knot and were off to live in the Highlands. I barely heard from Sean after that.”

  “Could you put some dates down in a statement for me? Then I can get an idea of when the relationship between Ballater and Lowther started and ended.”

  Jameson nodded. “Sure, not a problem.”

  “I’ll make you an appointment at the station first thing in the morning.” Dani stood up to leave.

  Jameson cleared his throat. “Will Gail have to know about all this? I don’t believe she had a clue about Sean’s other women.”

  Dani wasn’t certain this was true. In her experience, women in Gail’s position tended to turn a blind eye. “Hopefully, not. But this is a murder inquiry. If we have to upset Mrs Ballater along the way, I’m afraid that’s unavoidable.”

  Chapter 26

  With the police officers busy at the Nabb town hall, the hotel was quiet. Bill and Joy had ordered morning tea in the lounge. Lining the walls of this room were a series of tall bookcases. Joy had already scanned the shelves and selected herself a dog-eared crime novel which she was reading at the table by the bay window.

  Bill had slid a weightier tome from a bottom shelf. He’d already spent an hour a few evenings back, skimming through its pages. This morning, he planned to give its contents more attention.

  Joy eyed her husband over her half-moon reading glasses. “What’s so interesting in there? You’ve barely spoken a word in the last hour.”

  Bill lifted the heavy book, so she could see the front cover. “It’s a history of the Small Isles during the war. There is a section on Nabb and Ghiant. I noticed it the other day when I was in here.”

  “I didn’t think the islands played much of a role in the war at all. We’re too far north of the Clyde for this area to have been a target for the Luftwaffe.”

  “That’s true, but there was a great deal of German U-boat activity off the coast of the Outer Hebrides. According to this book, some of the submarines even ventured along The Minch. The aim was to target passenger ships heading across the Atlantic to New York and Newfoundland.”

  “What role did Nabb and Ghiant play in the war, then? My uncle’s family still farmed on Ghiant back in those days.”

  Bill sipped his coffee. “Being the most westerly, Ghiant had a lookout point on one of its beaches. They scanned the sea for signs of enemy shipping. There was a small consignment of soldiers based on the island for much of the war.”

  Joy took off her glasses and allowed her paperback to slide onto the table. “I didn’t know that. Uncle Rob was in the army, that’s how he met my aunt. But he was stationed away from Ghiant. Are you telling me he could have stayed at home for the duration of the war?”

  “It doesn’t work like that, darling. Rob Rushbrooke would have had to go wherever he was posted. You couldn’t pick and choose. Where did he serve?”

  Joy furrowed her brow. “I’m not sure what division he was in. My father would have known, but I never asked. Family history says Rob met Aunty Catrin at the army base in Kinross. Catrin was in the ATS. They remained in contact for the entire war and were married once it was over.”

  “It would be easy enough to look up Rob’s service record.”

  “Do you think he may have spent some time back on Ghiant, before the war was over?”

  “I’ve no idea. I’m mentioning it purely out of interest. This discovery of the Viking burial ground on the island just got me thinking, that’s all.”

  “You thought that Ghiant might have a more chequered history than we previously imagined?”

  Bill leant forward and dropped his voice, quite unnecessarily, as there was no one in the room except them. “We told DCI Bevan that we believed Ghiant was special. That there was a spiritual significance to the place. If that’s true, it will possess a unique history, these places always do.”

  Joy’s expression crinkled with concern. “But it’s recent history hasn’t been so good, has it? My memories of Ghiant are all idyllic. The magic I associate with the place is a force for good. What if we discover that the island has been used for evil? We already know some of its darker secrets.”

  Bill stretched his hand across the table and took hers. “This is just a bit of harmless research, darling, to pass the time whilst the investigation continues. Whatever I find out will be from a long time ago.”

  Joy didn’t answer. She knew that Bill couldn’t be stopped once he was on one of his crusades to un-earth the truth. But this time she was decidedly uneasy about the subject of his research. The Isle of Ghiant was so closely wrapped up in the history of her own family that she feared what his digging might uncover.

  *

  DC Tom Carrick had a revised list of names. He’d followed up on over thirty responses to their newspaper appeal to identify the body discovered in the peat on Ghiant.

  DI Alice Mann approached the table where Tom was at work. “How is it going with the print-out I gave you?”

  Tom showed her his notepad. “I’ve eliminated all these calls, Ma’am. Currently, I’m focusing on this list. The missing individuals referred to here match our deceased man in physical characteristics and in relation to the date of their disappearances.”

  The details scribbled in the margins impressed Alice. “Have you contacted the families of all these men?”

  Tom cleared his throat. “I’ve spoken with a couple of dozen so far, I’m really sorry I haven’t got through all of them just yet.”

  Alice shook her head of straight auburn hair. “Don’t apologise DC Carrick, this is good work. I like your systematic approach. You need to check and double-check each name listed here, we don’t want to miss anything.”

  Tom couldn’t prevent a smile from lighting up his fresh face. “Thank you, Ma’am.”

  Alice straightened up. “In fact, I’m going to get a couple of the other DCs to come and work alongside you. They can provide you with their lists and you can inform them of your method to whittle it down. I’m putting you in charge, DC Carrick. Don’t let me down.”

  Tom’s chest swelled with pride, “Thank you, Ma’am, I certainly won’t.” Then his elation faded, as he realised that the already significant task before him had just expanded considerably.

  Chapter 27

  Phil Boag had pushed back the doors which divided the living room from the impressive kitchen of his Victorian terraced house in Pollockshaws. The dining table was set simply, but el
egantly, with a pair of candles flickering in the centre.

  It was a couple of years since Dani had seen Fiona Riddell. The woman looked well, which was unsurprising as their paths had previously crossed under difficult circumstances. Dani felt the situation was a little awkward, socialising with Phil and his partner like this. Her team had been required to treat Fiona as a suspect herself in the disappearance of her teenage daughter three years ago. If there was any residual bad-feeling, Fiona was managing not to show it.

  Phil was busy at the stove, stirring a shrimp risotto, occasionally adding a splash of white wine to the pan. “Georgie is out tonight,” he called over to his guests. “We’ve got the place to ourselves.”

  Dani turned to her hostess, who was topping up their glasses. “How is Maisie?” The question had to be asked, better sooner than later.

  Fiona smiled. “She’s in her first year at the university. Maisie was living with her father, but chose to come back to Glasgow to study. She stays with us most weekends.”

  Dani noted how happy Fiona sounded about this fact. “I’m glad she’s doing so well.”

  Fiona laid a hand on Dani’s arm. “You did your best to find her, I know that.”

  James changed the subject. “I love this house. Did you have it completely refurbished?”

  Phil carried over the risotto in a serving bowl, adding a sprinkling of fresh samphire to the top of the dish. “It was Jane who had all the work done. I’m not sure we would have gone for anything quite so grand.”

  “How is Jane?” Dani felt she should ask, as Phil’s ex-wife had been a feature of his life for over twenty years.

  “Still the headmistress at Newton High School. But I think she’ll move into local politics once the girls have completed their studies.”

  “Really?” James raised a glass of red to his lips.

  “Oh yes,” Phil replied, with amusement in his tone. “Jane has plenty of ideas about the future of education.”

  “She seems perfectly contented on her own,” Fiona added. “There hasn’t been anyone new on the scene since the divorce.”