Alex Gray - A small weeping

The sign for Shawbost was accompanied by another giving the mileage to Callanish, Carloway and Stornoway. There was nothing to indicate the whereabouts of Failte. Lorimer drove slowly along past the houses scattered on either side of the road until even those petered out.

‘Maybe it’s further on?’ suggested Solly.

‘We’ll see.’

Turning a bend on the road, Lorimer saw a long driveway that ended slightly uphill at a large, grey two-storey house. There was no sign at the road end.

‘Bet you that’s it,’ he said and swung the car along the rutted path that led to the house.

To one side of the old house was a pebbled area with a red pickup truck, so Lorimer parked nearby and signalled to Solomon to come with him.

‘You’re right,’ said Solly, pointing to the word cut into grey slate by the doorway. Failte.

‘My great detecting skills,’ Lorimer smiled, raising his eyebrows. So far, so good, he thought, but what would their reception be now that they had arrived?

They hadn’t long to find out. In answer to the shrill bell, footsteps came thudding downstairs towards the door. It swung open to reveal a young woman dressed in jeans and sweater.

‘Hallo. Can I help you?’ she looked curiously at Lorimer then shifted her gaze to Solomon. Lorimer saw the smile spread across her face and watched as she flicked back her long fair hair. He made a mental note to tease the psychologist about his fatal attraction to blondes.

As always, Lorimer held out his warrant card. ‘I understood Mr and Mrs Evans were in charge here,’ he ventured.

‘Yeah, that’s right,’ she turned and yelled up the stairs. ‘Muum! There’s a policeman to see you.’

The sound of a door slamming and a toilet flushing was followed by a voice calling out, ‘Just coming!’ then a woman appeared at the top of the stairs, wiping her hands on the apron tied around her waist.

‘Frances Evans. You must be the men who phoned me from Glasgow, right?’ she spoke breathlessly taking Lorimer’s hand in a damp grasp. ‘This is my daughter, Rowena,’ she added, indicating the girl who still continued to smirk in Solly’s direction. ‘Finish off those bedrooms for me, will you, lass?’ she said, giving the girl a friendly pat on the shoulder.

‘See you later, maybe,’ Rowena grinned then raced up the stairs and out of sight.

‘Come on into the lounge, will you. Would you like a cup of tea or coffee? Or can I offer you both a spot of lunch? We’re just having soup and sandwiches, but you’re welcome to join us.’

Frances Evans spoke in a rush, making Lorimer wonder if she were always so garrulous. Or was it the presence of a police officer that provoked this nervous chatter? Lorimer had witnessed this effect countless times. It didn’t mean a person had anything to hide; sometimes it was simply the awkwardness of unfamiliarity.

‘Thank you, but no. We’d really like to speak to your two residents as soon as possible.’

‘Ah,’ the woman dropped her hands by her sides. ‘Of course. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it, to see Sam and Angelica. Well, Sam’s out with my husband at the moment and Angelica’s gone for a walk. Oh, just a minute,’ she broke off and crossed to a window that overlooked the road. ‘That’s them now,’ she said, turning back to Lorimer.

‘They had to go into Stornoway to the chemist’s. Sam’s on special medication, you know,’ she confided, stepping past them and bustling out into the hall once more. The rattle of a car braking against the stony drive set off a dog barking.

Following the woman out of the front door, Lorimer saw a black and white collie racing towards the car, a distant figure following.

Standing in the doorway, Lorimer saw two men emerge from the car. One was stockily built with thinning hair, the other a tall spare man wearing well-worn tweeds. As they approached, Lorimer saw them exchange glances. They’d have seen his car in the driveway and put two and two together.

‘Detective Chief Inspector Lorimer, I take it?’ the tall man took the front steps two at a time and Lorimer found his hand grasped firmly. ‘I’m John Evans. And this is our guest, Sam Fulton,’ Evans turned to the man behind him who had bent down to fondle the collie by his side.

As Sam Fulton straightened up, Lorimer knew instinctively that the two men had discussed a strategy between them. He looked back at Evans for a moment, aware of the frank, hazel eyes regarding him with interest.

‘Mr Fulton, hallo,’ Lorimer smiled and raised a hand in greeting. ‘I understand we’ve arrived at an awkward time. Mrs Evans here tells me your lunch is ready. please don’t let us keep you back.’ He turned and met the Welshman’s eyes again. ‘We can talk while Mr Fulton is at lunch,’ he said. Evans nodded. His expression showed that he knew it wasn’t so much a request but a demand from this Glasgow policeman.

‘Aye, OK. I’ll see youse later,’ Sam Fulton licked his lips nervously and slunk past them into the house, followed by Frances Evans who ushered him along the corridor like a recalcitrant child.

‘This is my colleague Dr Brightman,’ Lorimer said, watching as Solly shook hands solemnly with the tall Welshman.

‘Pleased to meet you, Dr Brightman,’ Evans had stooped slightly to meet the psychologist’s eyes but was now looking over his shoulder. ‘I think we could talk in the lounge, but first, there’s someone else you should meet.’

Both men turned to follow his gaze. The figure that had been following the collie was heading up the path. Close to, Lorimer could see her raincoat flapping against a pair of stout legs clad in thick socks and heavy walking boots. The headscarf knotted under her chin made the woman’s face appear like a pale, round moon. In one hand she carried a staff and each step she took was defined by a thump as she lumbered forwards.

‘Sister Angelica?’ Solomon looked enquiringly at John Evans.

‘Yes.’

‘Wretched dog. Never comes back when I tell him to. You have to train your animals better than that, John.’ The woman puffed to a halt before them. ‘This the policemen, then?’ she asked, indicating Lorimer and Solly with her stick.

‘DCI Lorimer and Dr Brightman,’ Evans stated, standing aside for the woman to shake the out stretched hands.

‘I’m Sister Angelica. How are you? Don’t answer that. I don’t really want to know. Had enough of hearing how everybody is back in the Grange,’ she cackled.

‘Frances is doing lunch then these gentlemen will want to speak to you,’ John Evans told her. Lorimer saw her hesitate for a moment. The psychiatric nurse had a firm manner that brooked no nonsense yet there was a reassuring gentleness in that Welsh accent.

‘Suits me. Sam in already?’ Without waiting for a reply the woman strode into the house, the collie wagging its tail at her heels.

‘Please go into the lounge. I’ll ask Frances to do some tea for us,’ Evans said and disappeared in the wake of Sister Angelica.

‘What d’you make of them?’ Lorimer sat down and whispered to Solly.

‘Sister Angelica seems pretty well adjusted, don’t you think? No sign of weakness in her personality at first sight. She’s getting on with things, I’d say. Out with the dog in the fresh air. And she had no problem about facing us, did she?’

‘What about the man? Fulton?’

‘Didn’t want to make eye-contact, did he?’

‘You noticed that too?’

‘And…’ Solly broke off as John Evans pushed open the lounge door with a tray. He set it down on the table between the two men and began offering sugar for the steaming mugs.

‘We found it rather strange that two patients who were in the Grange during a murder should be allowed to disappear up here the very next day,’ Lorimer began. ‘Mrs Baillie said the reasons were financial,’ he added, raising his eyebrows to show John Evans just how sceptical he was of this excuse.