I pull into one of the passing places to make room for a minibus going in the opposite direction. Tapping my hand against the steering wheel as I wait, my thoughts turn once again to Charlie and Martha. They shared a hotel room together. How do I feel about that? Furious. Livid. Angry. But why? Is it because I truly believe something could have happened between the two of them? Do I honestly think that if Martha came on to Charlie he’d turn her down rather than seize the opportunity? Would she promise to never reveal their secret to me and then lure him into bed with the prospect of a no questions asked one night stand? What was it I’d said about Martha and Jonah when she’d stayed at his place after the party? I’d said she was probably just scathing an itch. That it was just sex and nothing more. Is that what Charlie and Martha had been doing in Edinburgh? My stomach clenches and my mouth goes dry. He wouldn’t.
Would he?
I’ll never truly know the answer to that particular question I realise. If they both deny sleeping together then that’s all I have to go on. Just their word. They could have made a pact to keep their little secret and I’ll never ever know what happened in that hotel room. I should be able to trust Charlie but the niggling doubts from my past refuse to go away. But if I truly don’t trust Charlie what does that say about our relationship?
Even if they didn’t sleep together there’s still the fact he shared a room with Martha and neglected to tell me about it.
I hear the beeping of a car horn and realise another vehicle is fast approaching and I’ve stopped smack in the middle of the passing place meaning another car behind me needs to squeeze into the space too. I push the car into gear and pull forward enough to let the other vehicle slip in behind mine.
Focus. Yes, that’s what I need to do. Think about something else. Not Charlie and Martha.
Up ahead is Flynn Garrison’s house. We haven’t been back since that first day we did a search of the property.
We still haven’t heard back regarding the details of the gun we found in the kitchen drawer yet either. Doing things through the official police systems on Farra seems to take forever.
A movement catches my eye and I notice there’s a car parked in the driveway of Garrison’s house. It isn’t a police car so who does it belong to?
A woman is walking across from the driveway to the front door of the house. She has long dark hair. I slow my car to a stop a few yards back up the road from the house. Could this be mystery woman? She certainly fits the, albeit brief, description of her.
What should I do?
My fingers hover over my phone. No point in calling either Charlie or Martha if I look at it realistically. Martha has no transport so can’t get down here quickly or easily. Charlie is in a meeting with Constable McKenna at the police station which is about a fifteen minute drive away. Even if I wanted to speak to Charlie right now. Which I don’t.
I get out of the car. I don’t need either of them to help me. I can do this.
The subtle approach is probably best I decide as I walk towards the house and knock lightly on the front door.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“Hi, I’m so sorry to bother you. I’m here on holiday and my rental car is playing up.” I gesture back down the lane towards said rental car. “I’ve no mobile phone signal to call the hire place at the airport. I saw you just going into this house and you’re the first person I’ve spotted since the car started juddering. You’re female too, so I’m happier to come over and ask for help. I hope you don’t mind.”
“I’m Amber,” I add. “Amber Reed.” I hope the use of my full name will encourage her to reply with her full name too. I mean, if she is mystery woman then just a first name isn’t going to help us locate information on where she and her family live is it?
“Isla Donaldson,” she says in a distracted kind of way.
Bingo. It actually worked.
“Do you want to come in and use the landline phone? Not sure if it’s still connected but you’re welcome to try.” She ushers me inside and points down the hallway towards what I know from my previous visit is the living area.
“Oh? You don’t live here then? Sorry, I thought this was your home. I mean, with you not knowing about the phone. Is this a holiday rental or something and you look after it? Oh, are you here on holiday too?” I’m aware I’m babbling and silently tell myself to calm down. “Where do you live then?”
“This place isn’t mine, no. It, er, belonged to a close friend. He’s recently moved out.”
Before I can say anything Isla starts crying, huge wracking sobs which make my stomach clench in sympathy for her. “What is it? Did I say something wrong?”
“I’m sorry,” Isla sniffs. “You only wanted to use the phone, not deal with a hysterical stranger.”
I wave away her concerns. “Come and sit down. Can I get you something to drink? Can I help at all? If you want to talk I’ve been told I’m a good listener. Sometimes it helps, you know, it’s easier, to talk to a stranger. Tell them what’s wrong.”
Isla shakes head. “Thanks but I can’t.”
I feel awful now. Part of me wants to comfort her and tell her it’s OK if she doesn’t want to talk. The CCIA part of me wants her to confirm whether or not she’s the woman we’ve spent ages looking for.
“I shouldn’t say anything,” she says. “It’s difficult.”
“Sounds mysterious,” I say softly. “You’re not in some kind of trouble are you?”
“All I can say is that the man I loved lived here. He’s the father of my child but we could never officially be together. It had to be kept a secret and now…” She dissolves into those wracking sobs again.
I slip an arm around her shoulder and let her cry. Feeling awful about being so two-faced.
Eventually Isla stops sobbing enough to say, “And now he’s gone.”
“Gone where?” I reluctantly ask.
She sniffles into another tissue. “He’s passed away. And do you know how I found out? The local newspaper. But then nobody knew me, so how could I have been contacted and told?”
“Are we talking about the murder victim on the beach? I saw something in the local paper too.”
Isla nods. “Yes, we’d been together again for a few years,” she gulps.
“Again?” I prompt. “You said you’d been together again. So you knew him before?”
“Yes. We met when we were both at university in Edinburgh. He was on a geology course and I was doing business studies. We were together for two years.”
“What happened?”
“After university his life changed. He got a call which made his dreams come true. I knew I’d lost him from that point on.”
“And you didn’t see him again until these past two years?”
“No. Not quite. We met up again about five years ago in Edinburgh. We had a few blissful days and nights together and then he was gone again. That’s when my life changed forever.”
“Oh?”
She glances at me. “You’ll know who he was I assume?”
I nod. “Flynn Garrison, the pop star from Dynamo Monsoon. So, if you don’t mind me asking, what happened that changed your life forever?”
“A month or so after that time we spent together I found out I was pregnant. I thought about getting in touch and telling him he was going to be a dad but I knew there was no point. His band had become big news in just that short space of time. Right place, right time for them I suppose. I kept seeing pictures of him in the papers, always with a different, very glamorous woman. He was living the high life. Dating top models. He wouldn’t want anything to do with me. Selfishly I didn’t want to tell him I was going to have his child. What if he’d wanted the baby but not me? How could that have ever worked out? Plus, I didn’t want our child raised in London in some crazy celebrity lifestyle. I decided to keep quiet.”
“It sounds as though he did want you though. He came up here looking for you didn’t he?”
She gulps in some air and nods. “Yes. I origin
ally came from another island a few miles away from here. He’d hired a private detective to track me down. When he turned up he already knew about my son. He soon figured out Luke was his son too.”
“And what did he say?”
“At first he was mad. Angry because I’d never told him. Furious because he felt as though I’d cheated him out of precious time with his son. Then he was really sad. He started crying. He wanted to meet his son.”
“And you let him?”
“Yes. The two of them hit it off straight away. The magic was still there for Flynn and me and it didn’t take long before we became involved again.”
She pauses then looks me straight in the eye. “He was married but I’m sure you already knew that too. I don’t do things like that. Get involved with men who are married. I never have before but we had this amazing connection. Always have had. It felt so right having him in my life again. I just wanted to spend some time with him.”
“Did he talk about his wife?”
She nods. “He said he was going to leave her, leave London and move up here to be with his real family. He said we were the most precious gift, that we’d changed his life for the better. That’s what he used to call me, my Precious Isla, he’d say. When he found out about Luke, he said he was the most special thing to ever happen in his life. He adored him.”
“So your son knew his father?”
“Obviously not at first but this past year or so, yes, we all used to meet here, at this cottage, frequently. He knew him and we behaved as a family but he called him Uncle Flynn. It was easier that way. Luke used to love it here. We had this beach we always went to, the one at Kinnar. Have you been there?” She turns tired eyes questioningly towards me.
I shake my head.
“You should go. It’s a gorgeous spot. It was our favourite place to go. Luke loved to play hide and seek with us in this big cave down there. It was our special place. Sometimes though Flynn would come and visit us or we’d all go off somewhere else, where we didn’t have to be on our guard all the time. Though of course there was always the chance of him being recognised but if anybody approached us and said anything when we were elsewhere then we just used to deny it. Said he just looked like Flynn Garrison but it wasn’t him.”
“You and Luke don’t live on the island then I take it?”
“No, we live over on the next island, on Skye. It’s easier to live elsewhere, have our life, our business, it’s a little café near the coast. Like I said, I did business studies at university and it’s wonderful to finally have a proper business I can develop. I never had the money before but recently Flynn’s been helping me out. When Luke was a baby I took whatever part-time jobs I could to fit around raising him. It’s even trickier being a single parent when you live on the Scottish islands. People can be very traditional out here. Some people around here treat single mothers with contempt. I tell people on Skye, my neighbours, that I’m divorced. It’s better that than have them know the truth and judge me. Most of these islands are religious and would frown on me being an unmarried mother. If they knew I was now involved with a married man then that would make things ten times worse. Skye’s better, it’s a bit more bohemian, lots of incomers so they’re more open minded but it’s still easier to go with the story about being a divorcee.”
“I’m so sorry for your loss, Isla. Are you sure I can’t get you anything or do anything for you?” I say, feeling awful for her situation. For the last few years she’s been trying to spend as much time as she could with the man she loved, the father of her child, but circumstances have made it difficult and now, he’s gone. I wonder if Isla and her son will be recognised in Flynn Garrison’s will. Has he provided for them? Surely he would have. He loved Isla and his family up here. Didn’t he?
Isla sniffs. “No, thank you though. There’s nothing you, or anyone, can do now. He’s gone. That in itself is bad enough but for his life to end like this.” She shakes her head. “I can’t bear it. One minute I feel numb. So empty, lonely. Helpless. The next I feel a raw emotional pain so bad that I don’t know what to do with myself. I want to shout. To scream. To lie down and cry. But I can’t, I have Luke to think about.” Abruptly she gets to her feet. “The phone is over there if you want to use it.”
I nod my thanks and feel such a fraud as I pretend to make a call. Moments later as I walk to my car my finger is hovering over the call Charlie button. Should I contact him straight away and tell him what I’ve discovered? Part of me wants to. Part of me doesn’t.
I make a decision. This time it’s about me. I’m going to seize this as an opportunity to prove I’m learning at this agency stuff. To prove I can do this job. Without Charlie’s help.
I climb into the car and slip my phone back into my bag. Instead of heading back towards the cottage I continue down the road towards the town centre. After finding a parking space I walk to the library and records office. Now that I have a surname it doesn’t take too long to locate the address for Isla and her family. They live in a village called Carnbost on the north east of the island of Skye. The boy attends the local school and they all live in a flat above a café called The Little Gem.
Gathering together notes and print outs I head back to the car. This time I allow myself to do a little detour and head to the bakery I’d spotted the last time I was in Farraton when Charlie and I first checked out the records office. I deserve a little treat for identifying our mystery woman. I head inside the shop and am hit by the blissful warmth and the delicious aroma of baking. I spot some lovely squidgy custard slices in the display cabinet, nestled in pretty pink cake wrappers. After two slices have been gently encased in a bakery box and tied with a blue ribbon I clutch my precious purchases and head back to the car. Inside I carefully untie the ribbon and open the box, savouring the moment. After devouring both cakes in a matter of minutes - unfortunately I might have got a tiny blob or two of custard on the car upholstery - I find my phone and hit the dial button.
Charlie answers on the first ring. “Everything OK?” He sounds weary and I wonder if he thinks we’re about to continue our awkward lack of trust conversation from earlier. Or the equally awkward Martha conversation.
“Sort of,” I reply with a confidence-boosting sense of taking control as I start the car. “I’ve just found out who the mystery woman is.”
“Excellent work,” Martha nods her approval once I’ve finished filling them both in on the details of Isla Donaldson. “Looks as though we’re off on a trip to Skye.”
Her phone rings and, after checking caller display, she heads off outside to answer it, closing the door behind her. I stare after her, wondering who she’s talking to on the phone. Is it the mystery guy she’s involved with?
“Well done,” Charlie says, breaking me away from my thoughts of Martha’s unknown guy. “You used your initiative with making up the stuff about being a tourist and your car breaking down so you could get Isla talking. Then backed it up by tracking down the address info on Skye. Great job. You wanted to prove you could handle it on your own. And you did.”
I have a glowing feeling inside. I did the right thing and have impressed Charlie and Martha at the same time. What am I going to do about the shared room incident though? I decide to bask in the glory of finding mystery woman and keep quiet about the hotel business. For now.
“So when are we going to Skye?” I ask.
Charlie opens his laptop on the table. “Let’s see when the next ferry is shall we?”
Just as we’ve finished booking the car and three passengers onto the ferry between the islands tomorrow morning Martha wanders back in, tossing her phone onto the sofa.
“Everything OK?” I ask, thinking she looks annoyed about something. Maybe it’s something to do with her mystery guy.
“Fine,” she says in a non-committal tone. “What are you two up to?”
“Just booked us all on the ferry for tomorrow,” Charlie says, closing the computer.
Martha wrinkles her nose. “I
hate boats. Isn’t there a flight over there?”
“Nope,” Charlie replies. “Anyway, it’s not a long crossing. Just an hour on one of those little inter-island ferries. They’re surprisingly well-equipped and comfortable. Once you’re on board head for the lounge seats. Just lie back, shut your eyes and it’ll be over and done with before you know it.”
“I bet you say that to all the women!” she laughs and punches him on the arm.
For a second I think there’s a flicker of irritation in Charlie’s eyes at her attempt at a joke at his expense. Then it’s gone and he’s back into normal Charlie mode.
“I have never uttered those words to a woman!” he says, feigning indignation, going along with her kidding around. “Not the shut your eyes bit anyway.”
Martha bursts into loud peals of laughter. “Anyway, enough of talking about your sex life. I’m going to do my money investigating stuff on this Isla. See what I can find out about her finances ahead of our little trip over there tomorrow.”
By early evening I’m in the kitchen trying to make us something decent to eat. We take it in turns to cook. In my excitement at identifying Isla as the mystery woman earlier I completely forgot to call at the shops and restock the cottage with groceries.
Which is why I’m trying to create a delicious meal using only peppers, onions and some potatoes.
“Eggs,” Charlie says, pulling a box from the fridge.
“What?” I frown.
“We’ve got enough eggs left to do a Spanish omelette,” he explains.
Amber Reed Mysteries Volume One: Romantic Comedy Mystery Series Box Set (Amber Reed Celebrity Crimes Investigation Agency Mystery Box Set Book 1) Page 44