The Relentless Tide

by Denzil Meyrick

  ‘Remind me not to pay her a visit the next time I’m in Firdale.’

  ‘Anyhow, I was hoping I’d see you the night, Mr Daley. I’ve been hearing certain things that have jeest set my mind a’ on edge.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Like there’s been bodies found up on Kilmilken hill, that’s whoot.’

  ‘Now, Hamish, you know I can’t say anything about that. You know the score by now.’

  ‘Och, I’m no’ right interested in these bones you’ve turned up. Fae whoot I hear, they’re no’ that auld in any case. I’m mair concerned wae you poking aboot up there in the first place.’

  ‘You can’t hold me responsible for what’s been found, Hamish. I’m just dealing with what turns up – as always.’

  ‘Aye, but you should stay away fae the thin places.’

  ‘Thin places?’

  ‘Thon Somerled – aye, an’ many generations afore him – knew a’ aboot the thin places. It’s where this world and the next jeest aboot touch. Stand on that hillside – or on Iona – och, a lot o’ places like it, an’ you can feel yoursel’ driftin’ away. Let me tell you, I know. I’ve felt it many times.’

  ‘I’ve a job to do, thin place or not. Now get that whisky down you and I’ll go up and get us both another one.’

  ‘Mark my words. Better jeest tae leave things be in places like that. No good will come o’ it, for certain sure. Do you know, there’s a dark hole up there they’ve never found. A prison naebody can ever escape fae. When we was young, that’s whoot frightened us weans tae bed at nights. You’ll end up doon the dark hole.’

  Just as he was getting to his feet, Daley noticed the bar door swing open again. This time a uniformed constable leaned his head round it, instinctively looking towards the back of the room, where the chief inspector normally sat. The young man nodded at the sight of his boss, and threaded his way through the drinkers, tables and chairs until he was standing beside Daley.

  ‘Can I have a word, sir?’

  ‘What about?’

  The young cop looked down at the old man. ‘Could we go somewhere more private?’

  ‘What on earth has happened now?’ asked Daley, becoming impatient.

  The constable leaned his head into Daley’s, speaking conspiratorially. ‘It’s the district nurse, Helen McNeil, sir. There’s been another incident.’

  Though Colin Galt was enjoying a large glass of brandy, his friends talking excitedly about the forthcoming weekend, he still couldn’t relax. He was in the town’s private club, the habitat of businessmen, teachers, doctors and lawyers; a place they could get blind drunk away from the prying eyes of employees, pupils, patients or clients. Forgetting, of course, that they still had to get home, and in Kinloch, where curtains twitched and passers-by took note, it was almost impossible to conduct a clandestine social life, no matter how discreet the behaviour.

  He drained his third glass and hauled himself wearily out of the leather chair. ‘Have to make a call, lads. Got a wagon on its way from England – rush job. Better make sure he’s on schedule.’ He scurried off to find a quiet place.

  He stood in the hall, the buzz of conversation and laughter muffled behind the thick walls he’d just left. He pulled the phone from his pocket and dialled the number.

  He looked up and down the hallway, his feet fidgeting on the deep red carpet as the ringtone sounded in his ear. He cleared his throat, just as he heard a reply.

  ‘What do you want? I told you only to call me in emergencies, and I don’t want any emergencies – it’s your job to make sure there aren’t any.’

  ‘It’s not an emergency, as such . . .’

  ‘If it’s about the bodies they found up there, I know all about it. I do follow the news, you know.’

  ‘Aye, well, that’s not helped. There’s police all over the place. But that’s not why I’m calling . . . I want out. I just want to be paid for what I’ve done, then I want out. I can’t abide all this sneaking about – it’s messing with my head, you know?’

  ‘This isn’t like the Saturday job you had when you were a boy. You don’t just leave on a whim. You’re in it up to your neck, Colin, and unless you want the water to cover your head, you’ll shut up and get on with it.’

  ‘Wait, you can’t say that.’ The desperation in Galt’s voice was plain. ‘I said I’d help you for an agreed sum of money. I haven’t seen a penny of that yet. It’s just not worth the stress.’

  ‘But it’s not all about the money, is it?’

  ‘Meaning?’

  ‘Meaning that even if I choose to give you nothing – which I do, at the moment at least – you’re my creature. We both know why. Now, get back to your boozing, or whatever it is you’re doing. I have other things on my mind.’

  The phone went dead, and Galt knew that what he’d always suspected might happen just had. He’d lost control. Without thinking, he flung the mobile phone on to the thick carpet, where it then bounced against the wall, the screen shattering into a jigsaw of cracks.

  ‘Bastard!’ he swore loudly, then picked up the pieces and hurried off – not to rejoin his friends and have another brandy, but straight through the door and off into the night.

  8

  Helen McNeil was sitting in the family room at the police office, nursing a can of Coke in two shaking hands. She had composed herself, but Daley could see from her red, puffy face that she’d been crying.

  She looked very different from when he’d seen her last. Then, she’d been in her uniform, her hair up, wearing a touch of make-up. Now she looked washed out; her hair was now uncombed, longer than he’d imagined, straggling down her back. Though it was dark brown, Daley could see grey roots. She was wearing a dressing gown over a pair of jeans and bright pink training shoes.

  ‘Helen, I’m so sorry you’ve been put through this horrible experience again,’ he said. ‘Once was enough – I hear it was even worse this time.’

  ‘Yes, yes, it was, Inspector Daley.’ She bit her lip, desperately trying to ward off more tears. ‘It was the shock of hearing his voice.’ She bent her head forward, her shoulders sagging with the pain of it all.

  ‘Please, try not to be upset. We’re just waiting for information from your mobile phone company, as regards the text. We’ll get right on to this, too. There has to be a rational explanation.’

  Suddenly, she raised her head, eyes blazing. ‘Oh, I’m not stupid, Inspector. I know my father hasn’t sprung back from the dead. I just want to know who – how – why this is being done to me!’ She shook her head and sighed. ‘I’m sorry, I know it isn’t your fault. I just feel like my whole world is being turned upside down.’

  Daley hesitated for a moment, letting her calm herself down again. ‘Would you like some tea, or coffee?’

  ‘Do you have any hot chocolate? I can’t drink tea or coffee at this time – I’ll be up all night.’

  ‘I wouldn’t worry too much about that. I don’t think it matters what you order from the machine we have here. It all tastes much the same. Not much substance to it, but it’s a hot drink, at least.’

  Daley was pleased to see the hint of a smile play across her face as he dispatched the uniformed constable to bring the beverages from the machine in the office canteen.

  ‘Can I ask you more about your father? I hope you don’t mind. I know you say you have no enemies, but all this might be something to do with some twisted person who had a grudge against him.’

  He was surprised by her reaction. He had expected a staunch defence of her father’s character; instead, she seemed to be considering it as a possibility, a look that said Yes, you might be right on her face. Daley sensed that he might be on to something.

  ‘Did your father have anyone he was particularly at odds with?’

  ‘Not any individual that I can think of – no, I don’t think so.’

  Daley was confused. ‘Do you mean there might be more than one person – a group of people – a family, perhaps?’

  ‘You
think we all have enemies?’ she said suddenly, a determined look on her face.

  ‘Sadly, yes, that’s probably true. For me, it’s part and parcel of my job. This is very important, Helen. If I’m to find who did this, you can help us – a lot – by identifying anyone who could have made your father’s life difficult.’ He paused. ‘Or yours, for that matter. If this had happened to one of my team, we’d have plenty of potential suspects to look at.’

  ‘Well, my father was in the same boat.’

  ‘Meaning?’

  ‘Meaning that he spent almost thirty years of his life as a civil servant. Social security, they called it then – the dole.’

  ‘Oh, so he encountered some hostility? Where did he work, if you don’t mind my asking?’

  ‘He joined before I was born. He started in Lanarkshire offices, mainly. We lived in Airdrie most of the time when I was young, though by that time he was working in Glasgow.’

  ‘What was his job exactly?’

  ‘Dealing with claims – hence the animosity. I hear it’s all done anonymously these days. Well, then you had to look the bastards in the eye when you were telling them they couldn’t have any more money. Honestly, some people have a real sense of entitlement.’

  ‘When did he retire?’ Daley asked, slightly taken aback by her opinion of people in need of help from the state.

  ‘The late eighties. He’d had enough – was sick of how things were going, all the paperwork and so on. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you about that.’ She smiled. ‘I think he was what you’d have called old-fashioned. He believed that people should work for the money they received. He always instilled that into me – and I’m glad he did.’

  ‘What was his name again?’

  ‘Stuart – Stuart McNeil. They used to call him the gambler, at work.’ She smiled at the memory. ‘He liked the bookies,’ she added in reply to the quizzical look on Daley’s face. ‘Too much, as it turned out.’

  ‘Did that cause problems at home – I mean providing for you, that kind of thing?’

  ‘No, there was nothing like that. I was happy with him – I always had what I wanted. I was well fed and clothed, got good toys on my birthday and Christmas. I was loved. Being a child is a pretty straightforward business if you have those basic ingredients, I think.’

  ‘And your mother left, you said?’

  She looked at the floor again, her long hair covering her face.

  ‘I’m sorry, that was insensitive of me. You have my apologies, Helen.’

  ‘I should be apologising to you. I’m still afraid of being honest about that.’

  ‘Oh? Why?’

  ‘My father used to tell people that she died.’

  ‘She didn’t die?’

  ‘She’s probably dead now. Who knows – or cares? No, she left him – and me, come to that.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Daley. ‘I see. So your father preferred to tell folk she was dead?’

  ‘Yes. He was ashamed, I suppose. We moved house not long after that. The other end of town, where no one knew us. I was only small; I barely remember any of this. Just my father crying. For some reason, I remember that most vividly.’

  ‘Was there someone else . . . I mean, did she leave with another man? I’m sorry I have to ask these questions. I know all this must still be very upsetting for you.’

  ‘You have your job to do, just like us all. If it will help you catch the sick—’ she bit back what she had been about to say, ‘sick person who is doing this to me, I’ll answer anything.’ She paused again, this time looking over Daley’s shoulder into the middle distance. ‘She was just gone one morning. My father came back from the pub . . . you know, quite early. I was in bed asleep. She’d just left a note – a very brief one – telling him she was leaving and not to try and find her, but to do his best to bring me up. That was it. She wasn’t abused; it wasn’t a violent marriage. Well, not from what I recall – and from what I heard subsequently from my aunts. I never heard raised voices in the house, or anything like that.’

  ‘I see. That must have been tough for your dad. I mean, small child, difficult, responsible job. A lot to ask.’

  ‘He did it without a single complaint. Like most children, I was adaptable; soon, I hardly thought about my mother again. He had three sisters – the aunts I mentioned – and two of them lived nearby. When he was working, one of them looked after me. As I say, Inspector, I had a happy childhood.’

  ‘How did you find out about his gambling?’

  ‘I was about to go to nursing college. I was always harping on at him about getting a car. You know, just a wee runabout – anything to save me from that smoky bus every morning.’ She grimaced at the memory.

  ‘Did you get the car?’

  ‘No. I’m sure he would have bought me one if he could, but he had absolutely no savings – the bank wouldn’t touch him when he applied for a loan. Not only that, he was in debt.’

  ‘Do you know who to?’

  ‘No, he never talked about it. Well, not until just before he died.’

  ‘What happened then?’

  ‘Because he’d been ill for so long – in hospital and that – I had power of attorney.’

  ‘You mean you had access to his bank account?’

  ‘Yes. I only paid his bills and suchlike, made sure he had some cash in hospital, clothes, toiletries – that kind of thing. But one day he asked me to take two thousand pounds from his account in cash.’

  ‘So he had some savings by this time?’

  ‘It just about cleaned him out. In fact, I had to pay some of his bills for a short while until his pensions accrued again. Of course he gave me that money back,’ she said in a rush, clearly anxious that Daley not think her father had sponged off her.

  ‘Yes, of course. But what happened to the two thousand pounds?’

  She shifted uncomfortably in her chair, her gaze avoiding his.

  ‘Helen, it might be important.’

  ‘I had to take it to an address he gave me and post it through the letterbox in a plain envelope. Well, plain apart from the fact that he asked me to write his initials on it – so the recipient would know who it was from.’

  ‘Can you remember where?’

  ‘Wait. How will this help find this mad person who’s persecuting me? We’re talking about a dead man, Inspector. I can’t see the relevance of this.’ Again, her eyes flashed with anger.

  ‘Trust me, Helen. The more I know, the more likely it is I can track down who’s behind what’s happening to you.’

  She sighed. ‘It was a big house in the countryside – not far from Beith in North Ayrshire, as I recall. I remember looking at it and wondering why my father should have to give away what savings he had to somebody who was obviously already wealthy. I nearly didn’t post it.’

  ‘Nearly?’

  ‘He’d made me promise. I suppose he knew how angry I’d feel about it all. It was just after that that he told me about his gambling. I felt sorry for him. He’d lost a fortune over the years.’

  ‘Can you remember exactly where this place was – the address?’

  ‘No, no, I’m sorry, I can’t. There was so much going on at the time. You know, what with him being ill. I wanted to see him as often as I could, but that meant I was travelling a lot, as well as working. It was quite draining.’ She bit her lip, her mind suddenly propelled back into the past.

  ‘I’m sure it was, Helen. Pity you can’t remember that address. But we can add what you’ve told me to the investigation. You never know what will come out the other end.’

  ‘I was using everything I had just to keep myself going, and look after my father. I’m sorry, but everything else is just a blur.’

  ‘I understand.’ Suddenly, Daley’s instincts were telling him there was more to the persecution of Helen McNeil than met the eye. He sensed that she regretted admitting she’d had to pay his gambling debts. Despite her plight, it was plain that she would remain loyal to her father. His appointment for a drink
with Dunky Chisholm would have to wait. He wanted to get to the bottom of this.

  9

  For the first time since giving up booze, Brian Scott found himself actually enjoying a night in the pub.

  He’d agreed to meet Chisholm in the Douglas Arms when Daley had called off. The County Hotel, it turned out, had been fully booked, so the head of the SOCO team was staying in a guesthouse on the other side of Kinloch with the rest of his colleagues. This being a plain B&B, there was little in the way of diversion, so Scott had offered his services as a guide to the local nightlife. Hence, the Douglas Arms. It was good to catch up, especially after all these years.

  Scott was also interested in meeting some of the archaeologists he’d seen on site that day, as they packed away their kit while the police investigation got under way.

  ‘Anyhow,’ said Chisholm – now on his third pint in less than an hour, Scott noted with a raised eyebrow – ‘by this time we’d moved to Selkirk, so my city days were over, Brian. I hear you might be moving here full time. Am I right? I would have thought a place like this would be a bit tame for the likes of you and big Jimmy.’

  ‘Are you kidding? You could send doon the whole o’ A Division CID and they would still be struggling wae a’ these buggers. If I telt you what’s happened tae me doon here, you’d have nae hair. And apart fae that, they’re no’ happy unless you’re aboot tae breathe your last on some fucking boat. They even had me sinking in a whirlpool. I’m telling you, don’t think this is an easy number, cos you’ve no’ got a clue.’

  ‘So why haven’t you moved down before?’

  ‘Och, I’ve been at this perinatal thing.’

  ‘Eh?’ Chisholm looked taken aback.

  ‘What’s up wae your coupon?’

  ‘I would have thought your Ella was a bit too old for another wean, that’s all. I mean, I know they can work wonders these days . . .’