The Dark Isle Page 2

  “DCI Bevan? Thank you so much for coming all this way to help, Ma’am. It’s much appreciated.” His handshake was as effusive as his words.

  “This is my team – DI Alice Mann and DS Andy Calder.”

  DI Peyton nodded his recognition.

  Dani gestured towards the tables. “I see you’re busy already.”

  “I wanted to interview the locals as quickly as I could. Someone must have seen our killer taking a boat over to Ghiant – rented him a tender, perhaps. We’ve already lost nearly a week. Memories will start to fade.”

  Dani was impressed. “Is there anywhere else the perp could have sailed from to reach the dump site?”

  Peyton led them towards a small office he was clearly using as his own. A map of the area was laid out on the desk. “According to the locals, Nabb and Ghiant were always twin islands, due to their close proximity and the relative calmness of the stretch of water between them.”

  “I can see that,” Dani commented.

  “It’s possible to reach Ghiant direct from Rum or Armadale on Skye, but the crossing would be long and much rougher.” The man rubbed his tall forehead. “I just don’t see a person smuggling a dead body in a boat using one of the busier harbours to set off from. It makes more sense they’d take the shortest possible route, a place with fewer prying eyes. Which means that for now, Nabb has got to be our focus.”

  Andy nodded. “Does that mean you also believe the murder site is here on the island too, sir?”

  Dani was glad her DS was being respectful. She was already impressed with the DI’s operation.

  Peyton wrinkled his brow. “It’s surely not easy to cart a dead body around the place. Our victim was tall and well built. She had strong muscles and must have weighed over ten stone before the rats got to her. I can’t believe the place of death was too far from where the boat set sail. The pathologist was quite confident that death had occurred only a few hours before the wildlife got to her, a day or two at the outside.”

  “Which means we can probably mark a circle on this map,” Dani supplied, “showing a maximum search area for the murder site to be located. We’ve got some software that can do the job in minutes.”

  “Excellent,” Peyton exclaimed. “This was just the kind of input I was hoping you could provide.” He looked sheepish. “I don’t suppose one of your team could assist my boys with that?”

  Alice stepped forward. “I’ll get the software set up right now.”

  *

  Alice was busy showing one of the DCs how to use the geographic profiling software whilst Andy offered to help perform some of the interviews of local fishermen.

  As soon as her team were out of earshot, DI Peyton caught Dani’s arm. “I was hoping we might be able to go and grab a coffee somewhere and have a talk?”

  Dani knew better than to be flattered by his keenness to get her alone. “Of course. I know you want to ask me about Juliet. It’s why I’m here.”

  Peyton already seemed to have sussed out a good location for their interview. Or perhaps he had a knowledge of the island from previous visits. Dani didn’t know the man well enough yet to make a judgement.

  The lounge bar of the hotel by the harbour was empty but for the two police officers. A waitress brought them a tray of morning coffee.

  Peyton tucked his long legs under the armchair and leant on the plunger of their cafétiere. “The DNA results are back. We’re just waiting to locate a next of kin, although the dental records are conclusive enough.” He glanced up. “You couldn’t help us with that, could you?”

  “Juliet didn’t mention her family much. Her mother was living near Glasgow. I’ve no idea if she’s still alive.”

  Peyton grimaced. “The mother has passed away. There was no evidence Juliet had ever given birth, so no kids.”

  Dani dredged her memory. “Was there an older brother? I seem to recall Juliet mentioning him once, but she wasn’t in regular contact.”

  Peyton nodded. “Charles Lowther. We’re still trying to track him down. Seems like he’s our only surviving family member. He’s worked abroad for most of his adult life.”

  “I’m surprised Juliet never married,” Dani stirred cream into her coffee. “She left the force in her early forties. There was still time for her to make a life for herself.”

  “Suggesting you can’t have a life whilst you are on the force?” Peyton said this without recrimination.

  Dani smiled. “Well, can you?”

  Peyton chuckled. “Probably not.”

  Dani noticed his wedding ring for the first time. It looked well-worn. She hoped the DI was the exception to the rule. “Juliet was completely dedicated to the job. When I worked with her, she never seemed to leave the station. She often told me it was the only way to get ahead as a woman in the force. You had to work twice as hard as the men.”

  “She was a good police officer?”

  “Juliet was a DI by her late thirties, which was pretty impressive a decade ago. I found her meticulous as an SIO. She taught me a great deal about investigative procedure. Without her mentoring, I may not have risen through the ranks myself.”

  “But she took early retirement at 42. She’d not attempted to rise any higher herself?”

  Dani sighed. “One of the cases we worked on had a profound effect on Juliet. It shook her faith in the institution.”

  Peyton remained silent, re-filling both their cups. This was the kind of information he’d set up this meeting to hear.

  “Do you recall the bomb at Royston Road Bus Station in 2006?”

  Peyton nodded, his expression grave.

  “Of course, you would. It was the worst atrocity in Glasgow since the bombing of the Clyde in World War Two.” Dani played with her cup. “I was on leave when it happened, back on Colonsay with my father. Juliet and the team at Cowcaddens were amongst the first on the scene of the blast. The station was less than a mile away. Twenty people were killed and dozens injured. You can imagine what it must have been like for those first responders.”

  “Aye, it’s the kind of event we train for but hope to Christ never happens. It’s incredibly rare in Scotland.” He frowned deeply. “You said the case rocked her faith in the force. I can see how the bombing would have traumatised the officers involved, but my recollection is that the police responded in an exemplary fashion. Bravery awards were given out.”

  “Yes, Juliet received one herself for bringing out the walking wounded before the second bomb was defused.” Dani thirstily sipped her sweet coffee, as if she herself were suffering from the shock. “But the incident changed her. We worked together for the next couple of years. There was a hardness and a cynicism that pervaded her team on those last few cases. The change in Juliet’s character seemed to have infected us all.”

  Peyton sat back and folded his arms across his chest. “Did this change in character cause her to offend someone to the degree that they’d set out to brutally kill her?”

  Dani sighed deeply. “Not that I’m aware of. Juliet departed from the Glasgow police force with little fanfare, but I honestly don’t believe she left any enemies behind her. A handful of us were even still her friends.”

  Chapter 4

  The island seemed to have emptied of visitors overnight. Bill Hutchison imagined it must have been because none of the wee ferry boats were permitted to perform their usual itinerary of excursions to the surrounding isles. Without these services, Nabb had little inherent appeal. Even the discovery of a body hadn’t attracted the ghoul contingent just yet.

  Joy had slipped her arm through her husband’s as they strolled along the main street in Gordon. “It’s a terrible disappointment that we can’t get to Ghiant. It’s a trip I’ve long imagined taking again.”

  “Aye, but the police need to be allowed to do their job. It should be a crime scene that can be kept largely preserved from human contamination.”

  Joy shivered under her fleece. “I keep picturing that woman, lying all alone in the barn. No one wou
ld have heard her cries for help.”

  Bill turned to catch her eye. “From what the boatman told us, the woman was most likely dead before her body reached Ghiant. You can remove that morbid image from your mind straight away.”

  Joy sighed with some relief. They paused to watch a group of local children hanging around on the pebbly beach, kicking the stones like they were dribbling a football.

  “I recall my cousin Aisling talking about the primary school on Nabb. By the time she and little Rory were five, there was no school left on Ghiant. In fact, there were only a handful of families left living on the island at all by the mid-fifties. The weans had to travel each day on the rowing boat with my uncle to get an education of any kind.”

  “You can see why they finally made the decision to leave. It’s amazing they stayed for so long.”

  “It was their home,” Joy replied simply. “My mother and I only visited once. She wanted to see the life her sister had made for herself on this remote island with a man she’d only met a few times during the war.”

  “Did your aunt have any idea what his background was, when they first fell in love?”

  “Not really. It was only once they’d returned to Ghiant that Catrin realised her new husband was the heir to a farm providing for a dwindling population, on a tiny island without even a proper ferry service.”

  “Was your aunt happy there?”

  “Oh yes. The island was like a playground for Aisling and Rory. Apart from Rob’s tractor and the post van, there were no cars to worry about. I recall an idyllic summer enjoyed at the farmhouse. I helped feed the animals in the morning and spent the long afternoons swimming off the flat, sandy beaches. It was heaven. I believe my mother thought so too. I remember her stifling tears when the time came to leave. I made no similar attempt to maintain composure. Mine flowed freely.”

  “You must surely have both missed your father? You’d been away for months.” Bill furrowed his brow, obviously in sympathy with his father-in-law, now long dead.

  Joy shrugged. “Dad worked long hours. I don’t recall him noticing our presence much when he was at home. Mum cooked and cleaned for him, but there was little affection.”

  Bill cleared his throat. “I didn’t realise that about them.”

  Joy’s face broke into a wistful smile. “Not like Uncle Rob. He used to jump down from the tractor at the end of the day and scoop his children up into his arms – me too when I was there. I suppose they didn’t have the stresses and strains we had on the mainland. They could be more demonstrative.”

  Bill wondered if this memory had become embellished with the passage of time. He imagined that the job of keeping a farm going in a remote and exposed landscape was a tough existence. The family had been forced to go in the end, when they could no longer afford to feed the animals.

  Joy looked past the children to the distant contours of the hills on Skye. “When Rob got the offer of a job on Arisaig, from an old army mate, it led to much soul searching. He and Catrin had no choice in the end. The children needed to come first. They knew that the island would be left abandoned without them, but my mother said they always firmly believed it would become populated again. The land was fertile and many immigrants were coming to Britain in the 50s and 60s from the old colonies. Catrin was convinced that Ghiant would come to life once more.”

  “But it never did,” Bill commented sadly. “Those migrants settled in the cities, where there were jobs and established communities.”

  Joy wiped a tear away with her sleeve. “Talking about the place has brought back so many memories. It feels devastating to think that our magical island has been reduced to a dumping ground for murderers.”

  Bill placed a protective arm around his wife’s shoulders. He pulled her tightly to him and wondered if their coming here hadn’t been a terrible mistake.

  *

  Andy Calder zipped up his jacket against the strong breeze whipping along the harbour wall. He was waiting for one of the fishing boats to come back in. There was a man on board that the Highlands and Islands’ team had yet to interview.

  The DS glanced around the quiet port, allowing his gaze to run along the stretch of pastel-fronted houses that lay to the far side of the bay. His vision stopped abruptly at the outline of an old couple standing at the top of the beach, beyond a group of kids messing about on the stones. He shook his head as if to correct the image he was seeing. When he squinted into the distance again, the pair had gone.

  “It couldn’t possibly have been,” he muttered to himself, turning back towards the sea, where a small boat was fighting the swell, motoring in his direction.

  A bulky man, wearing a cable-knit sweater under his life jacket, leapt onto the jetty, securing the rope to its mooring.

  Andy approached him, holding up his warrant card. “Can I have five minutes of your time, sir?”

  The man dipped his head towards the boat. “We’ve got a catch to unload.”

  “Are you Sean Ballater?” Andy stood his ground.

  “Aye, this is my boat, the Lady of Kinloch.”

  “My colleagues have experienced some difficulties getting hold of you, Mr Ballater. We’re running a murder investigation here on Nabb. If I can’t get a formal interview from you, I’m afraid you’re looking at a charge of obstruction.”

  Ballater’s blue eyes narrowed. “I suppose my crew can bring the catch in themselves.” He turned and gestured towards one of the men lugging crates into piles on the gunwales before following Calder towards the stone building which housed the harbour master’s office.

  Andy took a seat behind a large, messy desk. Ballater rested his weight on a trestle table by the door. The man looked exhausted. Dark rings encircled his eyes, which were hooded and watchful.

  “You’ll be aware that a body was discovered at Rushbrooke Farm on Ghiant two days ago. Jim Lyle made the discovery and phoned the police. In his interview, he mentioned your name. Lyle told us you often made trips to the island.”

  Ballater nodded. “I wasn’t the only fisherman who did. I occasionally laid some pots around the bay. I decided there might be rich pickings with nobody living out there. In reality, I reckon the wildlife’s taken over. The otters get most of it.”

  “When was the last time you sailed out to Ghiant?”

  Ballater shifted his weight uncomfortably. “It was last Thursday. I had a couple of pots to check.”

  Andy made a note and glanced up. “Did you take the Lady of Kinloch?”

  The fisherman sneered. “Of course not. I took out my tender. It’s got a small outboard motor.”

  “We’ll need to take a look at it,” Andy replied.

  He shrugged. “If you must. I keep it at home. We live a few miles north of here.”

  “And did you see anything unusual during this visit to Ghiant?”

  “Like a woman being murdered, you mean?” Ballater responded, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

  Andy kept his cool. Sitting upright and spreading his hands out on the desk, he continued. “Any other boats moored up, signs of the vegetation having been disturbed, that kind of thing. There can’t be many folks who go out there regularly. Anything you noticed could be significant.” The DS fixed his glare on the man opposite. “Unless of course, the killer is one of you fisherman – You, Lyle or the Robertson brothers. You’ve all got the access required to dump a body there and the knowledge of the landscape. You’re also fit enough to haul a corpse about. There aren’t many others I’ve interviewed who fit that bill.”

  Ballater got to his feet.

  For a moment, Andy thought he was about to storm out. Then the man stepped forward and dropped into a chair, resting his head in both hands. “I’m sorry I’ve been evasive. I’ve been out skippering the boat for long hours recently. The last few nights I’ve barely slept. That’s why I missed your colleagues when they called round. I’m dog tired.” He raised his head. “I’m trying to make extra cash right now. My missus is expecting. The bairn’s due in the A
utumn.”

  Andy was taken aback by the man’s abrupt change in mood. “Congratulations,” he said dryly. “But a woman’s been killed, Mr Ballater. We need your cooperation.”

  He nodded. “Aye. But there’s really nothing to tell. Ghiant was the same as always when I went there the other day. The buildings are half falling down. I doubt if anyone would really notice there’d been trespassers. Occasionally, I see the remains of a camp fire on the beach – usually in summer. But not this time. The weather’s not been good enough for that.”

  Andy leaned forward. “So, the place does get visitors, other than just the twitchers and tree-hugging types?”

  Ballater’s postured stiffened just a fraction. “Not regularly. But kids with a rowing boat might head out there on a calm evening – take some tins of beer and a few packets of smokes – away from their parents, you know? The island could be a place for the youngsters of Nabb and Rum to do the stuff their folks wouldn’t approve of, away from prying eyes.”

  “It sounds as if you’re talking from experience?” Andy raised an eyebrow.

  Ballater’s drawn face finally cracked a grin. “I’m too old for that kinda thing now, Sergeant.” He winked, but then his cheerful expression fell, as if realisation had suddenly dawned. “And I’ve got far too many bloody responsibilities.”

  Chapter 5

  The interview transcripts that Andy had supplied Dani with weren’t throwing up any decent leads. DI Peyton was sending a couple of men out to examine Sean Ballater’s boat, but their searches so far hadn’t indicated any connection between the fisherman and Juliet Lowther.

  Dani was certain they needed to concentrate more on the victim. It was where her murder investigations always started.

  The DCI carried her laptop down to the sitting room of the Gordon Hotel. The room had a pleasant view of the bay which was currently obscured by low-lying cloud. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to recall the Juliet she had known back in Glasgow. It was difficult to shift the image of her old friend now imprinted upon her mind’s eye by the clinical brutality of the crime scene photographs.