Shadow of Doubt

by S L Beaumont

  Doctor Stevens was bent over the body.

  “Hey, Doc. Wasn’t Douglas left-handed?” I asked.

  Doctor Stevens straightened up and looked at me. “I think perhaps he was. Jones?”

  The policeman shook his head. “Dunno. Why?”

  “Wouldn’t it be a little hard for a left-handed man to shoot himself in the right temple?” I asked.

  Both men looked from me to Douglas. “What are you suggesting, Jess? That someone helped him?” Doctor Stevens asked.

  I shrugged.

  The policeman laughed. “I don’t think anyone would have any reason to kill Douglas.” He stepped across the photos on the floor, destroying any evidence as he did.

  I opened my mouth to say something further when my phone buzzed. It was Will.

  ‘Where are you?’ The text message read.

  “I’ll get out of your way,” I said. “You know where I am if you need to ask me anything.”

  “Why were you here anyway?” Jones asked.

  I indicated towards the photos lying scattered across the floor. “He was going to show me some photos of Colin as a kid.”

  The two men exchanged an unreadable look but said nothing.

  “Right, I’ll get the stretcher,” Doctor Stevens said, heading back through the front door. In a village as small as Strathgarvan, the doctor often doubled as the paramedic and the undertaker.

  I took one final glance at Douglas. When Jones had shifted his arm to check his pulse he’d set it down in a different position on his lap and I could now see the edge of a photo sticking out of his dressing gown pocket.

  “Can you give me a hand, Jones?” the doctor called.

  As Jones shuffled to the door, I leaned over and extracted the photo from Douglas’s pocket and slipped it into mine.

  I said goodbye to the two men as they maneuvered the stretcher through the narrow doorway and into the front room. Raising my umbrella to shield me from the rain, I hurried away. I didn’t stop walking until I was outside the post office around the corner. I stepped into the shelter of the doorway and slid the photo out of my pocket. It was of a young couple gazing at one another. They were standing on a beach, with the water lapping at their feet, wearing jeans and raincoats. Two tall chimneys could be seen above the trees in the background. The photo looked old, especially if their hairstyles were anything to go by, long and messy. The young man had a scruffy beard and was wearing a type of cowboy hat. The woman’s coat was open and the man had his hand resting on her rounded belly. I assumed that the young woman was Catriona, Colin’s mother. The family resemblance was there in the shape of her nose and mouth and Colin had inherited her coloring; Catriona had long thick auburn hair. She was very striking.

  There was something familiar about the man, but his head was turned to look at the woman, so I only had a side profile to go on and the brim of his hat hid most of that. I slid the photo back into my pocket, retrieved my phone and replied to Will’s text.

  ‘Something’s happened. Meet at mine.’

  Will was waiting around the side of the cottage, out of sight, when I arrived, out of breath from the quick walk uphill. He wasn’t alone.

  “This is Jake. He’ll keep watch while we talk.”

  I smiled at Jake, the short stocky fourth member of Will’s team whom I’d served at the pub the night before. He nodded and then eased back into the shadows at the side of the cottage. Will followed me inside.

  “What’s happened?” he asked as I closed the door and removed my wet jacket and shoes. He did the same.

  “Coffee?” I offered.

  “Thanks.”

  “And Jake? I could pass one out the bathroom window.”

  “I’m sure he’d appreciate it.”

  I switched on my espresso machine and opened the fridge for the milk.

  “There’s been another death.”

  “A suspicious one?” Will asked.

  “I think so.”

  “What do the police say?”

  “The policeman’s an idiot.”

  “Who died?”

  “Did you notice the old guy that I was talking to at the bar last night?” Will nodded. “I found him, this morning. Single gunshot to the head,” I said, gripping the edge of the bench.

  “Jess, are you alright?” Will reached for me, but I stepped away.

  “I just hope it’s not my fault that he’s dead.”

  “Why don’t you sit and tell me.”

  I made the coffee and handed a cup out of the bathroom window to a grateful Jake, then returned to sit opposite Will at the small kitchen table where I explained about chatting with Douglas at the pub and his invitation for me to visit him this morning.

  “I think he was going to tell me who Colin’s father was, as though that would explain everything,” I said, jumping up and retrieving the photo from the pocket of my raincoat. “Jones, the police constable concluded that he’d taken his own life, but the thing is, left-handed people don’t normally commit suicide by shooting themselves in the right temple.”

  “You’re right, they don’t.”

  “Now I know you’ll probably reprimand me for tampering with evidence, but after Jones trampled over everything and dismissed my theory that it wasn’t suicide, I didn’t think there would be any evidence anyway, so I took this out of Douglas’s dressing gown pocket. I can’t help but wonder if this was what he intended showing me?”

  Will held out his hand for the photo. “I’m not going to reprimand you. Can you give me the address? I’ll get one of the boys to drop by. I trust your judgment on this. It doesn’t smell right.” He studied the photo. “It looks like it could have been taken in the late 1980s, or early 90s, judging by the clothes. Do you have any other old photos that we could compare the people to?”

  “Only one of Colin as a teenager with the group of boys.”

  “And you don’t recognize either of these people?”

  “Well, I’m almost certain that the woman is Colin’s mother Catriona and there’s something familiar about the guy, but I can’t pinpoint it. If he’s Colin’s father, then maybe it’s just the familial similarity.” A thought formed in my mind. “Hang on, I’ll get the other photo.”

  I jumped up and moved the espresso machine and got a knife out of the drawer. I wriggled the brick out of the kitchen wall and reached into the cavity, pulling out the tin. When I turned, Will was watching me with a bemused expression.

  “I know. I’m paranoid.”

  “Perhaps not without reason.”

  I placed the tin on the bench and removed the lid, lifted out my passport, spare credit card and the envelope of cash that Dad had left me, before I found what I was after. I handed Will the photo of Colin and his friends.

  “It could be the same guy,” I said, laying the two photographs side by side and pointing to the older man standing among the group of teenage boys.

  “Could be,” Will agreed. “Bit hard to tell without the beard.”

  “If it’s the same guy, it would mean that Ewan Campbell was Colin’s father,” I said. “That would make some sense. Colin’s mother died when he was six or seven. He was adopted by the people who brought him up,” I explained.

  “I wonder why the secrecy? Do you think he feels guilty for not taking Colin on after she died?”

  “I don’t know. Catriona’s family was poor. This cottage, which belonged to her parents, was all she had.”

  “Perhaps she wasn’t ‘good enough’ for Ewan,” Will said.

  “Maybe, but when Colin arrived at his new family he had a large trust fund and I’m talking hundreds of thousands of pounds.”

  Will frowned. “How did she die?”

  “In an accident, she drove her car over a cliff near here,” I said. “Hang on; I want to check something else.” I reached into the safety deposit package and pulled out the newspaper clippings from Colin’s student days and shook my head in disbelief. I placed them on the table in front of Will and moved to stand beside
him.

  “No way,” I said. “I haven’t looked at these since I came here, but look who that is in the background.” I tapped on the image of a man standing off the podium at the edge of each photo. “Ewan Campbell. He’s been there the whole way.”

  “Careful not to jump to conclusions,” Will said. “Can I take these with me?”

  I nodded as a loud bird whistle sounded.

  “We’ve got company. I’ll let myself out through your bathroom window,” Will said.

  I repacked the tin, adding the new photo, and pushed it into my hiding place, replacing the brick, just as a loud knock sounded at the door. I hurried to open it.

  “Alastair,” I greeted the giant standing on the porch.

  “Just checkin’ you’re okay what with Douglas killing himself,” Alastair said as blunt as ever.

  “Yeah. It was a shock though.”

  “What were ya doin’ there, Jess?”

  “I was taking him some baking. Poor old thing on his own, I don’t think he was feeding himself properly,” I rambled.

  “So long as yer okay.” I nodded. “Any chance you could work tonight?” he asked. “I have a feeling it will be a busy one.”

  “Sure.”

  “Great. See you then.” He turned and strode back to his truck.

  I returned to the kitchen and washed the coffee cups, drying them and putting them away. I retrieved the photo from its hiding spot, pulled my raincoat on and set out to visit the Gordons. If anyone could confirm the identity of the man in the photo once and for all, they could.

  ***

  Mrs. Gordon answered the door using her walking frame for support and invited me in.

  “Would you like a cup of tea, dear?”

  “No thanks, I’ve just had one. I was having a clear out of Colin’s things and I came across a photo of his mother,” I said, wiping my feet on the mat and entering their kitchen.

  “Ah, the poor lass. Let me see,” Mrs. Gordon said.

  I handed her the photo and watched as her expression changed. She looked up at me with an uncertain look in her eyes. “Where did you say you got this?”

  “It was tucked into a book of Colin’s,” I said. “Who’s the man?”

  “It’s the Laird,” she said with a whisper.

  “What? Ewan Campbell?” I asked, wide-eyed.

  She nodded. “Don’t be showing this around, Jess.”

  I sent Will a text as I walked back to my cottage.

  ‘It’s confirmed. The man in both photos is Ewan Campbell.’

  Chapter 43

  April 20

  It was as though everyone in town had congregated at the pub for an impromptu wake for old Douglas that evening.

  Will, Jake, Sean and Freddy arrived early for dinner and ended up leaning on one end of the bar chatting to some of the locals as the evening wore on. Now that I knew who Will’s three mates were, I could see that they were law enforcement, alert and watchful. I couldn’t believe that other people didn’t see it too, but their cover of a lads’ weekend away seemed to be holding.

  While I was taking their dinner order, standing at their table, notepad in hand, Will murmured to me. “We need to talk. I have some new info.”

  “Okay, after work.”

  “Great, I’ll have the steak,” he replied in a louder voice. “Medium please.”

  “I think you’ll find, you’ll take it how it comes,” I replied, laughing.

  I was run off my feet pulling pints and nips, so I got a fright when I looked up into Ewan Campbell’s face.

  “Good evening, Jessica.”

  “Good evening.” You’re Colin’s father, screamed across my mind. Now that I knew, I could see the resemblance. They had the same wavy hair, hazel eyes and high cheekbones.

  “I’ve been meaning to invite you over to the island,” he said, smiling.

  “Have you?” I said, surprised.

  “How about tomorrow night?” he said. “I’ll pick you up around seven?”

  “I think I might be working,” I replied, looking around for Alastair, hoping that he would back me up.

  “I’m sure that can be changed,” he said, handing me ten pounds. “I’ll have a whiskey please.”

  Further down the bar, Jake looked up and caught my eye. He said something to Will, who turned and gave a slight shake of his head.

  “Alastair, Jess needs the night off tomorrow,” Ewan instructed.

  “It’s your night off anyway, Jess.”

  I glanced at Will again. A look of concern crossed his face.

  ***

  “We ran a background check on Ewan Campbell. He’s squeaky clean, too clean if you ask me,” Will said, several hours later as he made himself comfortable in an armchair by the fire in my cottage. “We’re digging deeper.”

  “Really?” I handed him a glass of red wine and sat down in the armchair opposite.

  “Yeah, interesting political views though,” Will said. “He’s very much a Scottish patriot.”

  “As was Colin after a few drinks, although I think we all secretly hate the English,” I joked. “It’s in our blood.”

  “No, this is more than patriotism. We’re still digging into his financials. They are very much a maze of trusts and companies, much like Colin’s were. He has funneled a large number of donations through some of these companies into parties and organizations which support Scottish independence and more recently we’ve linked payments from one of his offshore trusts to the extremist Scottish Homeland Society.”

  “Never heard of them,” I replied.

  “That’s because they are operating under the radar, but their military arm has been linked to the terrorist attacks in Trafalgar Square and at Windsor after the Brexit referendum. But nothing confirmed. Unlike other terrorist organizations, they don’t claim responsibility for their actions.”

  “So he’s involved with some dangerous people. Is that what you’re telling me?” I asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “And I’m going offshore with him tomorrow night to have dinner. Great.” I took a large gulp of wine. “Is Jake or anyone watching outside? They could come in. It’s miserable out there.”

  “No. It’s just me tonight, Jess. I told the others that I’d be staying here.”

  I pulled a face. “That’s incredibly presumptuous of you, Will.”

  “Not sleeping with you, Jess. But I will be right here all night. It’s not safe for you to be alone. You’ve rattled someone’s cage.”

  I blushed. Now who was being presumptuous?

  “We need to pack you up and get you away from the village first thing tomorrow,” he continued.

  “No,” I replied. “I’m not running away again.”

  “Jess, I’m not exaggerating how dangerous these guys are.”

  “I’m not afraid.”

  Will sighed and pulled his hand through his hair. The old mannerism tugged at my heart. “Jess, I’ve told you too much already, but there’s been intercepted chatter and we believe that another attack is imminent. The G7 summit is in Edinburgh the day after tomorrow.”

  “Yeah, I know. It was impossible to drive anywhere in Edinburgh without encountering a detour or roadblock a few days ago when I was there.”

  “When you have the leaders of the seven largest Western economies attending, there cannot be any security issues. However, we think that the British Prime Minister is a target,” he said.

  “And you think the terrorists planning an attack are here in this area,” I added finishing for him.

  “Jess, we’ve got heat signatures for at least thirty people out on the island. There are not many farms that require a work force of that size to live on site.”

  “How?” I began. “Actually, never mind.”

  “There have been a number of boat trips under the cover of darkness from the mainland to the island over the past few days, with trucks coming into the harbor each night and unloading cargo. It’s odd for such a small island with only one house on it, al
beit a large one.”

  “I know. I heard a convoy the other night. Alastair told me that it was trucks arriving to pick up the catch from the fishing fleet.”

  “Did he? Interesting.”

  “So you don’t know what they are transporting? Maybe Ewan’s planning a party or something?”

  Will shook his head.

  “Perhaps I could find out tomorrow night?”

  “No. You won’t even be here tomorrow night.”

  I glared at him. “I think that’s my decision to make. If I want to go ahead with my date, then I will.”

  Will’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t want to date him.” He spat the word.

  “I don’t know, I’ve dated liars and terrorists before. The only difference this time is that I know.” I looked him in the eye. He winced.

  “Jess...”

  “Look, something or someone turned Colin into a fanatic. If that person is Ewan Campbell, then I need to know. That bastard ruined my life.”

  I jumped up and walked into my bedroom returning with a spare pillow and duvet. I dropped them on the end of the sofa. I brought out a towel and new toothbrush still in its packaging from the little bathroom and set them down on the coffee table.

  “And,” I continued. “If he’s planning something like attacking the G7 meeting, then maybe I can find out something to help stop it. Make up for being so blind for all those years.”

  “If Ewan Campbell is the mastermind behind this, then you’ll be walking into an extremely dangerous situation,” Will said, standing up and rolling his shoulders. “I can’t allow you to do that. I want you away from here, somewhere safe.”

  “You can’t allow me?” I said. “I think you’ll find it’s not up to you. I’m off to bed. And I’m not leaving.” I pushed past him. He reached out and grabbed my arm.

  “Don’t do this. I can’t protect you out there. You could get hurt.”

  “Can’t you see that I need to do this? I need closure. My life has been completely derailed. If I’m to properly start again somewhere I need to know everything that went on under my nose in London and perhaps earlier at university.” I removed his hand from my arm and held it for a moment. “Use me, Will. You’ve done so before. I’ll go tomorrow night and see what I can find out. I have nothing to lose.”