The Malice of Waves

by Mark Douglas-Home

‘So Pinkie or whoever it was got into trouble on the cliff. That’s when the eggs were dropped.’

  Helen agreed. ‘We know he reached the nest and removed the eggs. Something bad must have happened when he was trying to climb back up. So what did Ewan find when he went searching the next morning?’

  ‘A body, a rope, a backpack, or maybe only a backpack if the rope hadn’t been secured properly.’

  ‘The man you saw had a backpack?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Whatever was there, Ewan must have cleared it away. Apart from the money – he took that. When Ewan returned to Eilean Dubh, he had no idea what had been going on because visibility had been bad and he was out of phone contact. When he was arrested for Joss’s murder, what could he say? “I’ve been on Priest’s Island with an egg thief who might or might not be dead.” What would you do if you were Ewan? You’d think you were in serious trouble. You’d come up with some story about the money being hidden away by your uncle because he didn’t trust banks. After that, if you were twenty years old and you thought the police had a score to settle, you’d sing dumb. You’d deny everything and wait to see what happened.’

  Night crept in and they talked quietly, intermittently, as if conversation was dying with the day. Finally, they waited in silence for Catriona, and Helen watched Priest’s Island become indistinct and black. How different to that morning when she had seen it so richly textured, a fine weave of subtle colours. With anyone else she would have talked about her experience, how affected she had been, still was. With Cal, she hesitated and wasn’t sure why – intuition, the fear that she might spoil something. Instead she wondered if this was it with Cal: being with him on a hill, looking out on to an archipelago of islands, night falling, the darkness binding them together in silent companionship. How unexpected, she thought. Having day-dreamed about it being sex, marriage, a date or as little as a kiss, she didn’t think she minded the alternative a bit.

  So quiet was the settling night that they heard Catriona’s footfall when she was still some distance away. Helen said, ‘I’ll go to meet her. You stay here.’ A few moments later Cal heard voices – mostly Helen’s, as though Catriona was having second thoughts.

  When Helen reappeared, Catriona was hanging back and Cal decided to start talking. ‘Helen’s been telling me you’re the only friend Ewan’s got left. I can help him if you’ll let me. Why don’t we sit down and I’ll tell you what Ewan was doing the night Joss was killed?’

  Catriona remained standing.

  Cal stood too and carried on. ‘Round about this time two nights ago I was on Priest’s Island watching a boat crossing the sound. There were two men in that boat. One of them was Ewan. Later that night Joss was killed. But I saw Ewan early the next morning. He was still on Priest’s Island.’

  Now Catriona appeared rapt, her face like a moon illuminated by hope. But, as Cal continued, it dimmed as if the light inside her was sputtering. ‘If only it hadn’t been night-time,’ Cal said. ‘I would know for certain that Ewan never left Priest’s Island. But I couldn’t see when it was pitch-dark, and the wind was so loud I might not have heard if he’d taken the boat. Also I slept on and off. But if you want to know whether I think Ewan stayed on Priest’s Island all night, yes, I do, and I think I know what he was doing there. He was taking a collector of wild birds’ eggs to the raven’s nest on the cliff. That broken eggshell I brought to your house this morning – it came from that nest. The eggs were a very rare type, a genetic abnormality, and prized by collectors. That’s why the police found all that money on Ewan’s boat – I think it was a payment.’

  Catriona gasped, ‘Is that where Ewan got it?’ As though she, too, had been having private doubts.

  ‘The egg collector could be a man called Pinkie Pryke. He’s well known for his collection of this type of rare egg,’ Cal continued. ‘The question is, what happened to him? He wasn’t in the boat when Ewan returned to Eilean Dubh.’

  ‘Do you know what happened?’ Catriona asked.

  ‘I can guess. I found the eggs yesterday. They were in a cloth pouch and washed up on the shore. Only one egg was unbroken. I think there had been an accident and Pinkie Pryke fell off the cliff after climbing down to the nest. That’s why the pouch ended up in the sea. Ewan probably got rid of anything else that was evidence of Pinkie having been on Priest’s Island – the other man had a backpack when I saw him. That’s why Ewan hasn’t told the police where he was or what he was doing, because he’s implicated in covering up another death and another crime.’

  Helen went closer to Catriona. ‘Are you all right?’

  She nodded. ‘Have you told the police about this?’ She was addressing Cal.

  ‘No, a statement from me wouldn’t help Ewan because Beacom, the police, are only interested in proving him guilty. They’ll find an expert to say the sound was passable that night for someone with Ewan’s knowledge and experience and I can’t swear on oath that he never left Priest’s Island.’ Cal paused, as though thinking it through. ‘They’d make out the other evidence – the note, the knife – was so compelling it proved that Ewan had gone back to Eilean Dubh to murder Joss. They’d say he planned the raid on the raven’s nest the night a storm was forecast to give himself an alibi. They’d say Ewan got caught out by events. He hadn’t anticipated an accident or his witness disappearing. That was why he hasn’t said he was on Priest’s Island and admitted to a different and lesser crime. No, whatever I told the police, Ewan would still be charged with murder and Bella would be implicated for withholding evidence and obstructing a murder investigation. She knew what Ewan was doing, ask her.’

  Catriona lit a cigarette. She seemed deep in thought.

  Cal added, ‘I don’t think Ewan’s a murderer. That’s why I went to speak to your aunt. I need someone to tell me what’s going on. He doesn’t stand a chance otherwise.’

  For a while Catriona carried on smoking. Then she said, ‘I’ll tell you what I know.’ She took another drag on her cigarette. Her voice was quiet and jerky, as though sharing a difficult private memory with the night. ‘These two Australians arrived in the tea room. It was last spring. They’d been on Priest’s Island, climbing the sea cliff, and they showed Auntie Bella and me their photographs. They’d taken some of the raven’s nest. Auntie Bella must have known the eggs were unusual because she asked if she could have the pictures emailed to her.’ Then, with frustration, Catriona exclaimed, ‘What was she thinking!’

  The tip of her cigarette flared red. ‘Ewan doesn’t know about birds but Auntie Bella does.’ After a moment she went on. ‘Ewan won’t say anything to the police, not if there’s a risk of Auntie Bella getting into trouble. Not unless there’s no other way.’ Not even then, her tone seemed to suggest. She exclaimed again, another realization. ‘So that’s why she was being weird when the pig was found. Auntie Bella was standing at my window looking at the gulls on East Skerry and saying she was sorry. I said, “Sorry for what, what have you done?”’

  Catriona laughed in a single short breath, like a cough. ‘She wouldn’t tell me. Now I know why. She thought it was that man Pinkie.’

  Cal said, ‘It’s complicated for Ewan, if there’s been an accident, if there’s another body.’

  Catriona stubbed out her cigarette and lit another. ‘It’s so unfair!’

  Helen asked, ‘What’s unfair?’

  ‘Ewan never said before …’ Catriona spoke warily, uncertain about carrying on. ‘It’s like now …’ She dragged on her cigarette. ‘When Max disappeared … Mr Wheeler, the police were saying it was murder, and Ewan couldn’t tell the truth.’ She exhaled, her cigarette smoke escaping along with a secret. ‘Ewan and Max …’ She sounded nervous about mentioning their names together. ‘They used to hang out. Nobody else knew, apart from me.’ A pause. ‘Ewan will kill me …’

  Cal said, ‘He won’t have to know.’ He waited so she didn’t feel pushed. ‘You’d better tell me. If you think it could help him … otherwise he’s going to be in pri
son for thirty years.’

  The cigarette flared red while she made her decision: ‘I didn’t like Max.’

  ‘Did you know him too?’ Cal asked.

  ‘I met him a few times. He wasn’t a nice boy.’

  ‘But Ewan and Max got on?’

  ‘I suppose. They did stuff together.’

  ‘What sort of things?’

  ‘Hanging out on Priest’s Island. Max used to sleep there in a tent and Ewan would go over in his uncle’s boat and join him. Boys’ stuff …’

  ‘Did Max’s father know?’

  ‘No. Neither did Ewan’s uncle. After Wheeler bought the island, Donald Grant was always drinking.’

  ‘You and Ewan were together then?’

  ‘Sort of, it wasn’t like we did anything.’ She hesitated. ‘I was young. Anyway, we had a big row.’

  ‘About what?’

  ‘About Max. Ewan was making Max do all these things, taking it out on him because his father bought the island.’

  ‘What sort of things?’

  ‘Fighting, making Max go on a death swing, horrible things … Ewan thought I’d be impressed but I told him I wasn’t. I said I didn’t want to be with him if he was going to be nasty to a smaller boy, even if Max was a Wheeler. We broke up, but afterwards Ewan said he’d made friends with Max. He asked if we could be together again and said he was sorry about the things he’d done. He hadn’t been himself, he’d been angry about the island. But he’d changed and he wanted to prove it to me. Would I go with him to Priest’s Island when Max was there? He kept going on about it so I said OK, if he wanted. Ewan said I would enjoy it. Max would be my friend too.’ She snorted. ‘But Max wasn’t expecting me. He didn’t want me there. He started talking about the island being his and said I could only stay the night if I passed a test. It was a rule, his rule. He said he’d learned it from Ewan.’

  ‘He said that, his island?’

  ‘Yes, like he was a little king or something.’

  ‘What did he expect you to do?’

  ‘Go on the death swing.’

  ‘What was that?’ Cal asked.

  ‘It was on the cliff, where the ravens nested, on that ledge. Either you climbed down on the rope which was tied round a rock at the top of the cliff, or if you were small like me and Max you could climb down a deep crack in the cliff face. It was just wide enough and went all the way to the ledge. Once you got there, you had to catch the rope with a boathook. Because of the overhang above the ledge the rope hung out of reach unless there was enough wind to blow it in. Ewan had made Max swing ten times over the sea and under the ledge without putting his foot down. That was what Max wanted me to do.’

  ‘Did you?’

  She snorted again. ‘As if. I told Ewan he had to take me back to Eilean Dubh. But he was cross with me. He said I should have gone on the swing and I’d let him down. We had another row. I said I wasn’t surprised Ewan and Max were friends because they were the same – Ewan had taught Max to be a bully like him. After he dropped me at the harbour, he went back to Priest’s Island.’

  ‘When was that?’

  ‘The summer before Max disappeared.’

  ‘They remained friends?’

  ‘Yes, but Ewan told me the police mustn’t know. He was frightened they’d find out about Ewan and Max fighting when they were younger, that I might tell them.’

  Catriona stubbed out her cigarette in a spray of burning tobacco.

  Cal asked, ‘Ewan wasn’t with Max the night he went missing?’

  ‘He wanted to go but his uncle stopped him taking out the boat. The one night his Uncle Donald wasn’t drunk was the night Max disappeared! Ewan says Max would still be alive if his uncle hadn’t run out of whisky.’

  ‘Why?’

  Catriona hesitated. ‘I said I wouldn’t tell anyone.’ Then, nervously, ‘After we broke up that time, he told me he’d taken Max to this place he’d discovered. Nobody knew about it apart from him and Max. Once you went inside no one could find you. It wasn’t possible to go there all the time, it depended on the moon. I thought he was making it up, to let me think I’d missed out on something. But sometimes I wonder if Ewan is worried that’s where Max went when he disappeared.’

  ‘Did he say where this place was?’ Cal asked.

  ‘By the shieling, that’s what he said when he told me that first time. But now if I mention it he says he was just winding me up.’

  Cal said nothing.

  ‘They were friends, Ewan and Max,’ Catriona said after a long gap. ‘They were,’ she insisted, as though the night air had been whispering its doubts or that Cal’s sudden silence had unnerved her.

  Catriona and Helen left together. Cal waited. When he could no longer hear the skittering of the stones they dislodged, he followed them down the hill. At the road, he turned right. At the turn-off to the Deep Blue he went left. When he saw the back door of the chalet was open and the light on – the signal that Helen was alone – he jumped the fence, crossed the side garden and went inside. Helen was waiting for him in the kitchen, drinking coffee, another mug waiting on the table for Cal.

  ‘Right at the end, why were you like that?’ she asked him. ‘You were so quiet. Catriona thought she’d said too much or the wrong thing. She was very unsettled. She thought she’d got Ewan into trouble. I tried to reassure her. I’ve seen you do that before, go AWOL.’

  He sat down. ‘I was thinking.’

  ‘I know that,’ Helen said. ‘What were you thinking?’

  Cal’s lips compressed. The gesture meant he was still thinking; he wasn’t sure about the conclusion. ‘When Max Wheeler disappeared, there were big tides, called spring tides. Spring refers to the sea rising up. They happen after every new and full moon.’

  Helen nodded. ‘I read about there being a spring tide in Max Wheeler’s investigation file. The currents were stronger than normal, weren’t they?’

  ‘The currents would have been strong but I expect they were normal for spring tides.’

  Helen smiled at his fastidiousness. It had always amused her – Cal, who lived like a vagrant, being so particular about odd things. As she sipped her coffee Cal explained that spring tides were the biggest tides – high tide was higher than average but low tide lower than average. ‘When Max disappeared, the low tide was almost as low as it would ever be.’

  Catriona’s reference to the moon had made him think. Was the place Ewan had found on Priest’s Island only accessible at a spring low tide, the lowest tide? Instead of Max stumbling into the sea at night or being swept away by the tidal currents in the sound, as the township liked to think, maybe Max’s death had something to do with the low tide, how low it had been and what it exposed. ‘Low tide was at four minutes past two in the morning when Max disappeared. Perhaps he’d gone to this place Ewan had discovered and became trapped when the tide turned.’

  Helen said, ‘So Catriona was wrong about Ewan – he wasn’t just winding her up when he said he’d found a secret place?’

  ‘I don’t think so. Why else would he have mentioned only being able to get to it if the moon was right?’

  ‘I could ring Beacom, get him to ask Ewan.’

  ‘Won’t he deny it, say the place didn’t exist? Wouldn’t you? If you thought that was how Max died, if you thought some of his bones might still exist and the police would suspect you of trying to conceal his body there? Ewan hasn’t mentioned it to the police or to Catriona for the last five years. Why should he now?’

  ‘Yes, you’re right,’ Helen said. ‘And if Beacom asks Ewan about it, he’ll know that Catriona’s been talking. We can’t do that to her, not if we don’t have to, not yet.’

  Cal agreed. ‘It was spring tide today. Low tide tomorrow afternoon is also pretty low, half a metre higher than it was when Max disappeared, but it might still be low enough. I’ll be able to see what’s exposed, where Max could have gone, if that’s what happened.’

  Helen reached a decision. ‘I’ll brief Beacom by phone, tell
him not to mention it to Ewan.’

  Cal nodded. He got to his feet. ‘I’ve got charts and maps of Priest’s Island that’ll give me an idea of where to look.’

  Helen went to the back door with him and he said good night.

  As she closed the door, she felt oddly disappointed by his abrupt departure. Yet what else did she expect?

  25

  Cal woke to the whop-whop of propeller blades. He wiped his hand across the pickup’s side windows and looked out through the smear. In the grey of early morning, a red and white Coastguard helicopter was hovering above the sound. Cal glanced at the clock: seven forty-five. Now the Sikorsky was turning, going towards Eilean Dubh, flying slowly, searching. Cal closed his eyes, a pause to a day that was starting too quickly. Whop-whop. The noise roused him again and he opened the door. A small boat with a puttering outboard was circling an islet. A RIB was speeding west of the harbour. Another was leaving the jetty at Priest’s Island. He yawned, then stumbled from the door of the pickup and walked to the slipway. Taking off yesterday’s clothes, he waded into the sea and ducked his head. Returning to the pickup, he collected his jeans and dried himself quickly with his discarded tee shirt. He dressed – black jersey, dirty jeans and walking boots – and brushed his teeth, rinsing his mouth with water from a bottle.

  On the road he passed two police cars and a police RIB patrolling the shore.

  Arriving at the Deep Blue, he felt that he’d been the last person left sleeping. A dozen people were standing outside the tea room, stony-faced and watchful. More were gathered by the harbour – the media, milling. Cal saw Beacom. He was with other police by the Jacqueline; pointing, issuing orders. Cal parked close to a group of reporters and listened in.

  ‘Is she blonde like Joss?’

  ‘What age was she?’

  Cal noticed the past tense. Was someone else dead?

  ‘Does anyone have a picture?’

  ‘Who are you talking about?’ Cal asked, but they had started to walk away because Beacom was moving. Cal tagged along and caught Beacom’s eye. Though the contact was fleeting, Cal’s impression was of a man knocked off balance and unsure how to get back. That wasn’t like Beacom. Whatever had happened must be serious.