Simon Beckett - Written in Bone

‘I’ll take a metre of this, too, please.’

‘The cutters are there as well.’

I wasn’t sure I’d be able to cut the chain one-handed, but I wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction of asking for help. I hunted around before eventually finding a pair of bolt cutters on another shelf, next to an old wooden yardstick. I measured out the chain, then cut it by bracing one handle of the cutters on my thigh. Putting everything back as I’d found it, I took the length of chain and the padlock over to the counter.

‘And I’ll take this as well,’ I said, selecting a large bar of chocolate from the display.

She rang the items into the till in silence, watching as I took a note from my wallet.

‘I’m not changing that.’

The till drawer was open, revealing a selection of coins and smaller notes. She stared back at me, defiantly.

I put my wallet back and rummaged in my pocket. She watched me count out the money, then banged it into the till. I was owed change, but it wasn’t worth arguing about. I picked up my buys and headed for the door.

‘Think a bar of chocolate will get your feet under that table, do you?’

‘What?’ I asked, not quite believing I’d heard right.

But she only stared at me sourly. I went out, resisting the temptation to slam the door.

Still fuming, I debated going straight back to the clinic with the chain. But Brody had been adamant I should get something to eat first. I knew he was right, and somehow I didn’t think anyone would try anything as long as the old DI was standing guard.

The walk back to the hotel did me good. Windy as it was, at least the rain was holding off, and the air was cold and fresh. By the time I’d reached the side street leading to the hotel my temper had started to subside. Light shone welcomingly from the windows, and the smell of fresh bread and burning peat greeted me when I stepped inside. The grandfather clock clunked majestically as I went down the hallway to find Ellen. The bar was untended, but there were low voices coming from the kitchen.

Ellen’s and a man’s.

When I knocked on the door the voices stopped. ‘Just a minute,’ Ellen called out.

After a few moments she opened the door. The yeasty scent of warm bread enveloped me.

‘Sorry. Just getting the loaves out of the oven.’

She was alone. Whoever she’d been talking to must have left through the back door. Ellen busied herself turning out the bread from the tins, but not before I’d seen that she’d been crying.

‘Is everything all right?’ I asked.

‘Fine.’ But she kept her back to me as she spoke.

I hesitated, then held up the chocolate bar. ‘I brought this for Anna. Hope you don’t mind her having sweets.’

She smiled, sniffing away the last of her tears. ‘No, that’s very good of you.’

‘Look, are you…?’

‘I’m fine. Really.’ She gave me another smile, stronger this time.

I came away. I didn’t know her well enough to do anything else. But I couldn’t help but wonder who Ellen’s visitor had been, and why she should want to keep his identity a secret.

Or what he’d done to make her cry.

I FELT BETTER after a hot shower and a change of clothes. I’d already worn everything I’d packed for the trip to the Grampians, and I made a note to ask Ellen if there was anything I could do about my laundry. My shoulder still hurt, but the shower had helped, and the two ibuprofen I’d taken were starting to kick in as I went downstairs to get something to eat.

Outside the bar, though, I stopped, reluctant to go in. I’d felt like an outsider even before this, but now the extent of my isolation suddenly hit home. Even though I’d already been sure that the woman’s killer must still be on the island, might even be someone I’d met, it hadn’t seemed to have any direct bearing on me personally. I was there to do a job. Now, though, someone had crept into the community centre to spy on me, and I’d no idea who, or why.

Somehow it seemed that a line had been crossed.

Don’t start getting paranoid. And remember what Brody said: until the support teams get here, the best defence is not to let on what we know.

I pushed open the door to the bar. At least the weather seemed to have thinned out some of the customers. Guthrie and Karen Tait were nowhere to be seen, I was relieved to see, and only one of the domino players had turned out. He sat forlornly at their table, the box of dominoes waiting in front of him.

But Kinross was there, staring silently into his pint while his son hunched self-consciously on a bar stool next to him. Fraser was there too, sitting at a table by himself as he attacked a plate piled with sausages and mashed vegetables. He obviously hadn’t wasted any time in getting back once Duncan had relieved him at the camper van. A glass of whisky stood next to his plate, announcing that he considered himself off duty, and from the flush on his face I doubted it was his first.

‘Christ, I’m starving,’ he said, shovelling up a forkful of potato as I sat down at his table. There were flecks of food in his moustache. ‘First I’ve had to eat all day. No joke being out in that camper van this bloody weather, I can tell you.’

He hadn’t seemed so bothered when it had been Duncan out there, I thought wryly. ‘Did Duncan tell you we had an intruder?’ I said, keeping my voice down.

‘Aye.’ He waved his fork dismissively. ‘Bloody kids, probably.’

‘Brody’s not convinced that’s all it was.’

‘I wouldn’t pay too much attention to what he says,’ he snorted, giving me a glimpse of semi-masticated sausage. ‘Duncan says you think the dead woman was a whore from Stornoway. That right?’

I glanced around to make sure no one could hear. ‘I don’t know where she’s from. But I think she was probably a prostitute, yes.’

‘And a junkie, by the sound of it.’ He washed down his food with a gulp of whisky. ‘You ask me she’ll have come out here to service the contractors, and one of them got too rough. No great mystery about it.’

‘There weren’t any contractors out here four or five weeks ago when she was killed.’

‘Aye, well, all due respect, but I can’t see how anyone can say for sure when that was, not from the bits and pieces that’re left. Cold weather like this, they could have been lying out there for months.’ He wagged his knife at me. ‘You mark my words, whoever killed her’ll be back on either Lewis or the mainland by now.’

I revised my estimate of how many whiskies Fraser might have had. But I wasn’t going to argue. He’d made up his mind, and nothing inconvenient like the facts was going to change it. Still, I didn’t feel like listening to any more of his opinions, and I was considering asking Ellen for some sandwiches to take away with me when the peat slab in the hearth flared from a sudden blast of cold air. A moment later Guthrie stamped into the bar, filling the doorway with his bulk.

I knew straight away that something was wrong. He glared at where Fraser and I were sitting before going to whisper to Kinross. The ferry captain’s expression darkened as he turned to stare at us. Then, as his son watched apprehensively, he and Guthrie came over to our table.

Engrossed in his food, Fraser didn’t notice until they were standing over us. He looked up irritably.

‘Aye?’ he snapped, still chewing.

Kinross regarded him in the same way he might something unsavoury and useless caught in a net. ‘What do you need a padlock for?’

I kicked myself for not anticipating this. Given our presence at the clinic, it wouldn’t take much guessing where the lock was for. And I should have realized that Cameron might not be alone in objecting to our being there.