The Malice of Waves

by Mark Douglas-Home

  If only she had.

  If she had been more level-headed, Ewan wouldn’t have felt so hard done by. He wouldn’t have taken out his anger on Max. Hannah would have been able to spend the night on Priest’s Island without Max putting her through one of Ewan’s tests. Max would still be alive. Joss wouldn’t have come to live in the township. She wouldn’t be dead. Hannah wouldn’t be helping the police with their inquiries into Max’s death. Chloe wouldn’t have been charged with attempted murder, or questioned about Joss’s killing.

  As the day brightened outside, so it was that everything became illuminated to Bella. Instead of blaming Wheeler as she’d done these past five years and encouraging others to do the same, she should have been more critical of her own behaviour. She remembered Donald Grant coming to her and asking her to have a word with Ewan because ‘you’re the only one he pays any attention to’.

  If only she’d been less quick to pass judgement on the Wheelers.

  The phone went. Bella let it ring. It stopped and started again. Catriona appeared in the kitchen doorway, looking half asleep. ‘Aren’t you going to answer that?’

  ‘I don’t think I can.’

  Catriona gave her aunt one of her sideways looks before picking up the phone. ‘Hello … yes, it’ll be a busy day.’ Apart from the odd ‘uh-huh’ and ‘I see’, Catriona was quiet while the other person talked. After a few minutes, she said, ‘I’ll tell her. Yes, ring again if you hear any more.’

  Catriona put down the phone. ‘That was Isobel. The whole story has come out. The police have been searching the ashes of the fire on Priest’s Island. They’ve found some buttons and the buckle of a belt. They think they’re from the clothes Chloe was wearing when she killed Joss. Isobel also says traces of blood have been found under Chloe’s bunk in the Jacqueline. They think that’s where she hid the clothes until she was able to get rid of them. Joss was killed because Chloe was terrified of her telling their father about Max’s death and her part in the cover-up. She used an old knife of Donald Grant’s that she found lying on Priest’s Island to make sure that Ewan was the obvious suspect. Later, when Hannah said she’d changed her mind about telling their father, Chloe threatened her. That’s why Hannah left the Jacqueline in the middle of the night. She abandoned the dinghy in the sound and swam ashore so that Chloe and everyone else would think she’d fallen in. But she’d told Joss and Chloe about the cave at the time of Max’s death and Chloe figured that’s where she could be hiding. So Chloe waited for dark and for the tide to start falling and for everyone to be paying attention to the fire. If Hannah hadn’t swum out, Chloe would have found the entrance at low tide – the next one was at three in the morning – and would have killed her. In Hannah’s case, drowning was the best way – by then everyone expected Hannah to be found drowned.’ Catriona shook her head in wonder. ‘What a bitch!’

  She looked at her aunt and a frown of worry formed. ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘No,’ Bella replied, ‘not really.’

  ‘Why, what’s wrong?’

  Bella said, ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘What for?’

  Bella looked at the ceiling, as if she didn’t know where to begin. ‘For letting you think that other things or people were more important than you.’ Bella continued as though listing her sins: ‘The tea room, the township, Ewan, Joss, the fight with Wheeler.’

  Catriona dropped her eyes.

  Bella saw the hurt in her niece’s gesture, how quickly she turned in on herself. ‘It was never true. It isn’t true.’

  The phone rang again and Bella was stung by the speed with which Catriona answered, as though she was glad of an escape. Had she lost her forever?

  ‘Hello, Isobel … Yes, I’ll tell her … Yes, see you later in the tea room.’

  When she turned back to Bella, she still didn’t meet her eyes. ‘They’ve found some bones under the raven’s nest – they’re human – and some pieces of clothing. Tests will be carried out but it’s likely they’re Max’s. According to Isobel, every year the ravens have been adding to their nest, making it bigger. That’s why Max’s remains were covered up …’

  Bella said, ‘Stop, Catriona.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because nothing, no one is more important than you. You know that, don’t you?’

  Catriona nodded.

  Then Bella said, ‘Would you mind if we didn’t open the tea room today? I’d rather not have to listen to what everyone has to say. In fact, I don’t think I want to again.’

  Cal stood on the Priest’s Island jetty. Someone watching him from the Deep Blue might have thought he was taking a last opportunity to study the sound and to fix in his mind the places where there were swirls of turbulence and sudden flares of white water, warnings to the unwary of hidden danger. In fact, he was only dimly conscious of the sea’s movement, whether the tide was flowing or ebbing, which was a certain sign of there being jagged rocks beneath his own otherwise calm surface. He was standing still, and had been for the last ten minutes, because he was paralysed by indecision. An internal argument kept him rooted to the spot. Should he go on or should he go back? The flare-up of anger that had impelled him to cross the sound had grown weaker as Cal questioned his motivation for invading David Wheeler’s privacy – the man was close by in the ruined chapel, taking refuge from the tragedies that had befallen him. To disturb him would require good reason and Cal wondered whether he’d crossed the sound on impulse because of his own emotional response to the aftermath of the investigation into Max Wheeler’s disappearance. In other words, was he being self-indulgent?

  Beacom’s final attempt to dissuade Cal from going to see David Wheeler influenced him more now that he was so close. ‘You’ll be wasting your time, Cal. He’s not going to give you the time of day. Whatever your opinion of him, don’t you think the guy’s had enough?’

  But just as Cal was being persuaded that he’d made a mistake and should get back into his RIB, he was again overtaken by the idea that a further and avoidable injustice was about to be perpetrated, this time not against the township but against Chloe and Hannah, particularly Hannah. The feeling was strong enough to propel him from the jetty in the direction of the chapel.

  Cal walked quickly, determined not to let his doubts change his mind. What he had to say was too important for that. He found Wheeler slumped on the stone bench inside the chapel. Whether he was praying or overwhelmed by despondency and grief at all the misfortunes that had overtaken him and his family, Cal couldn’t guess. Nor at that moment did he care. He cleared his throat. Wheeler moved his head a fraction to the right. Cal took the gesture to indicate he had Wheeler’s attention, or as much as he would ever be likely to have.

  ‘A week ago, you asked me if I had a son. I said I hadn’t and you told me that I wouldn’t be able to understand what Max’s disappearance, his death, meant for you. You were right. I can’t imagine how awful it must be to lose a son. But I do know what it’s like to lose a father. Don’t abandon Chloe and Hannah. Whatever they’ve done, they did because they were frightened. Hannah was terrified that Max would pull her off the ledge. All three of your daughters covered up Max’s death because they were frightened of you. That same fear made Chloe kill Joss and attempt to murder Hannah because she was desperate to be your favourite. Chloe will be sent to prison. Hannah might be too. Their lives aren’t going to be easy. They’re still very young. They need a father.’

  Wheeler jerked his head back to where it had been, a movement of a centimetre or two, a gesture of dismissal.

  Helen’s eyes opened. She stared at a white ceiling. Some people were talking. She wondered where she was, who they were. Now she was wide awake, sitting upright and briefly surprised to find she was in her running clothes, lying on the sofa in the chalet’s sitting room. The television was on, a man and woman arguing. She glanced at her phone. ‘Oh, no!’ It was almost ten. The tea room would soon be open. She hurried to the shower. ‘Nobody tell her.’ She said the same when
she was drying, brushing her teeth, doing her hair and dressing. Before going outside, she closed her eyes, wishing she could sleep. What a long night it had been. But sleep had caused this panic. Instead of being at the Deep Blue at nine thirty when Catriona would be on her own, laying tables, Helen would have to try to talk to her when the place was mobbed.

  Walking round the side of the tea room, she was nonplussed to see the lights were off and the tables empty. She checked her phone again. Ten twenty. Carrying on to the front, she saw a dozen people gathered around the door, some reporters as well as Ina and Mary-Anne. ‘What’s happening?’ Helen asked and was relieved when both women appeared pleased to see her. If Ina and Mary-Anne hadn’t heard, perhaps Catriona hadn’t either.

  ‘The tea room is shut today,’ Ina announced as though another unsettling mystery, another tragedy, had befallen the township.

  ‘There’s a notice on the door,’ Mary-Anne said to Helen. ‘The Deep Blue will open tomorrow under new management. Catriona’s taking over. Bella’s only going to be doing the baking. Even Isobel didn’t know. What could have happened?’

  More people were arriving. Helen nodded to Grey and managed to slip away without Ina noticing. She returned to the chalet, intending to ring Catriona and ask her over for coffee. But Catriona was outside Bella’s house, smoking.

  ‘Celebrating your promotion?’ Helen called over before going along the pathway to join her. Catriona smiled back and all Helen could detect – thank goodness – was a little self-consciousness. She doesn’t know, Helen thought. Relief was replaced by apprehension. How would Catriona react?

  ‘Well, nobody could ever accuse Eilean Dubh of being a backwater after what’s happened in the last twelve hours,’ Helen said brightly. ‘A five-year-old mystery solved. A murderer caught, all change at the tea room and it won’t be long before your Ewan is released.’

  ‘No,’ Catriona seemed suddenly thoughtful, ‘I suppose it won’t.’

  ‘There’s something you should know.’

  ‘About Ewan?’

  ‘About me. I haven’t been honest with you. I told you I came to Eilean Dubh to recover from a break-up with my boyfriend.’ Helen shook her head. ‘I didn’t have a boyfriend. I don’t have a boyfriend. I came here because I’m a police officer, a detective sergeant. I work with Detective Chief Inspector Beacom. I wanted to tell you myself before you heard it from other people, because some people know I was involved in Chloe’s arrest.’

  Catriona dragged on her cigarette. ‘So there isn’t a blonde called Phoebe?’

  ‘No.’

  Catriona’s face was turned slightly away so that Helen was unable to see her expression.

  ‘My name is Helen Jamieson. That bit was right and I am thirty-two years old and I do holiday alone and like cake. That’s all true. And I have enjoyed meeting you, getting to know you. It’s been, well, fun. It didn’t feel like work.’ She touched Catriona’s arm. ‘I’m sorry. DCI Beacom thought there was no other way of getting anyone in the township to speak to the police because of the background of mistrust. We hoped someone would say something that would lead us to discover what happened to Max Wheeler – and you did.

  ‘Without you, Ewan would be going to prison. We would never have discovered the truth if you hadn’t told us about Max being bullied or about the way he tried to make you go on the swing at the sea cliff. If Cal hadn’t found that cave by the shieling, Hannah Wheeler would be dead. Either she would have killed herself or Chloe would have drowned her. But, thanks to you, it’s over.’

  Catriona looked round. Helen expected her to be angry or hurt. Instead she seemed anxious.

  ‘You won’t tell anyone. Ewan won’t have to know.’

  ‘No.’ Helen allowed herself a brief smile at Catriona’s instinctive concern about anyone in the township finding out. ‘If you’d known I was a police officer you wouldn’t have spoken to me, would you? You wouldn’t have agreed to meet Cal McGill?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘I’m glad you did but I’m sorry I had to lie.’

  Catriona nodded.

  ‘About Ewan …’ Helen decided only to tell her the headlines. ‘He’ll be released this morning. He won’t be charged for taking eggs from the raven’s nest. It’s been removed for forensic analysis along with Max’s bones. The clutch would have been destroyed anyway. The money has been confiscated because it was the proceeds of criminal activity. But there won’t be a further investigation.’

  Helen paused, then: ‘Are you angry with me?’

  ‘No.’ Catriona’s eyes flicked towards Helen’s before darting away.

  ‘Sure?’

  Catriona nodded.

  ‘But something’s wrong.’

  ‘It’s not that.’

  Catriona turned her face towards Helen’s, as if deciding whether she could trust her. ‘Their aunt’s car being attacked …’

  ‘The night Max died?’

  ‘That was me.’ Catriona again studied Helen, this time for her reaction. ‘I hated the Wheelers for stopping Donald Grant grazing his sheep, and I was angry with Ewan for sneaking off to the island whenever Max was there.’ She sighed. ‘I wish I hadn’t done it. It complicated everything … the police thinking the damage to the car was linked to Max’s death. I didn’t own up before because I thought it might make things worse for Ewan. They already thought I knew more than I was saying – they’d just have used my admission as evidence to show that Ewan and I were working together.’

  ‘Does Ewan know?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Hasn’t he asked?’

  Catriona shook her head.

  ‘He must have guessed.’

  ‘I think he did.’ Then the worry returned to her eyes. ‘Will you have to report me?’

  ‘What, for a few scratches to a BMW five years ago? I don’t think so.’

  A brief smile wavered on Catriona’s lips. ‘Thanks.’

  Helen asked, ‘What will you do about Ewan? Will you get back together with him?’

  Catriona was thoughtful again, as though that had been on her mind too. ‘I love him but he liked Joss more than me. I can’t get that out of my head.’

  ‘Oh, come here.’ Helen gave her a hug.

  Going along the road to the old slipway, Helen watched how Priest’s Island changed with the light. One moment it was dark and obscured as clouds blotted out the sun. The next a ray would burst through and paint the land in bright pools of green and yellow. As a last impression it struck her as appropriate, a metaphor for the township which hid away in the shadows and only allowed outsiders to see occasional shafts of light. She was wondering about the connection between the weather and the inhabitants – did the former mould the characters of the latter? – when she saw Cal. He was sitting on the bonnet of his pickup, a bottle of water beside him. He was staring at the sound. ‘What are you thinking about?’ she asked.

  ‘The sea,’ Cal said.

  Helen laughed. ‘Of course you are.’ Then she became serious. ‘Beacom’s told me.’

  ‘Told you what?’

  ‘That you’re refusing to be a witness against Ewan over the raven’s nest.’

  Cal shrugged. ‘He’s been under suspicion for five years for a crime he didn’t commit. That’s punishment enough.’

  ‘There’s no case without you,’ Helen continued. ‘Ewan and Bella won’t talk. No one else saw him with Pinkie Pryke.’

  Cal said, ‘I know.’

  Helen looked at the sound. ‘Do you think Pinkie’s under there somewhere?’ Then, as if settling an argument in her head: ‘Anyway, as Beacom says, there’s no law against people falling off cliffs if that’s what happened.’

  Cal didn’t reply and Helen carried on. ‘Our wildlife crime people are picking up chatter about Pinkie. There’s talk about him visiting the sites where his clutches of eggs are buried, a farewell tour before he joins his wife in Portugal. She flew there a few days ago and is apparently looking to buy a property with a nice garden. There’s another
rumour about Pinkie planning to disappear after faking an accident. But, apparently, there’s always some talk or other about Pinkie.’

  ‘Pinkie’s in there somewhere.’ Cal nodded towards the sound. ‘I was trying to work out where he’ll turn up … if he’ll turn up. If he was wearing a harness and some rope was attached, he’ll probably be snagged on a rock.’

  Neither spoke for a while.

  Helen found herself remembering how pleasant that was. Being with a man who was accepting. Not feeling that nervous compulsion to talk.

  Cal said, ‘Are you leaving today?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You’re going back to Edinburgh?’

  ‘Uh-huh.’

  ‘Would you like dinner on the way back, in Fife?’

  Helen delayed her answer in case she sounded excited. ‘That would be nice.’ She imagined a little harbour restaurant, somewhere picturesque with candles and wine.

  She imagined it, whatever it was.

  ‘With some friends of mine,’ Cal said.

  ‘That’s nice.’ Helen tried to hide her disappointment. ‘At their house?’

  ‘No, it’s on a beach, it’s a barbecue.’

  Helen laughed.

  ‘What?’ Cal said.

  ‘Cal, nobody has a barbecue on a beach in Fife in March.’

  Epilogue

  He was tall, blond, Scandinavian-looking and one of a number of kayakers to visit the Deep Blue that summer. He seemed slightly at a loss. Catriona called over from the counter, ‘Sit wherever you want. What would you like to drink?’ But rather than find a table or place his order, he appeared eager to talk. ‘I’ve just been told to get off that island by a madman.’ He looked across the sound towards Priest’s Island and back at Catriona. ‘My guidebook says it’s uninhabited. That’s why I went there in my kayak.’