Simon Beckett - Written in Bone

‘It does if he wanted to divert suspicion from himself,’ Brody said, mildly. Then he shrugged. ‘But you could be right. For all we know it could have been someone else entirely, who trashed the yacht’s communications just to be on the safe side. I just don’t think we can afford to rule anyone out at the moment, that’s all.’

He was right, I realized. Duncan had already died because too much had been taken for granted.

‘I still don’t understand what was gained by smashing the yacht’s radio anyway,’ I said. ‘Even if we could contact the mainland, no one can get out to us until the weather improves. So what was the point?’

Brody took a drink of tea and placed his mug carefully back on the coaster. ‘Time, perhaps. As far as the mainland’s concerned, this is still about a month-old murder. Important, but not life and death. Even the fact we can’t get in touch won’t worry them overmuch, because they’ll know the phones and radios aren’t working. If they knew a police officer had been killed, there’d be a helicopter on standby ready to lift off the minute the weather permits. But as things are they’ll wait till it clears before they start things moving. So as long as we’ve no means of communication, the killer’s got a clear window to get off the island before anyone even starts looking for him.’

‘And go where? Even if he takes a boat, we’re in the middle of nowhere.’

Brody smiled. ‘Don’t be fooled. There’s a hundred and fifty miles of islands and coastline out here for someone to lose themselves. Then there’s the British mainland, Norway, the Faroes and Iceland all within striking distance.’

‘So you think the killer’s planning to make a run for it?’

His dog came up and rested its head on his knee. Brody stroked it, fondly. ‘I’d say it was likely. He knows he can’t stay here any more.’

‘So what do we do about it?’ Fraser demanded.

Brody gave a shrug. ‘Watch our backs. And hope the weather clears.’

It was a depressing thought.

The three of us took the Range Rover back to the hotel shortly afterwards. We hadn’t eaten since that morning, and while none of us had much appetite we still needed to eat. The rain had eased, but the gale showed no sign of abating as we made our way back along the harbour and through the village. The island was still without power, and the unlit streets seemed eerily deserted in the car’s headlights as we drove up the steep hill to the hotel.

It was only when we got out of the car that we became aware of the hubbub coming from inside. Brody frowned, his chin lifting as though he’d scented something.

‘Something’s up.’

The small bar was packed to overflowing, people crowding the hallway round its doorway. Heads turned towards us, the conversations abruptly dying to silence as word spread that we’d arrived.

‘Now what?’ Fraser muttered.

There was a ripple of movement as the people standing in the doorway shifted in response to some movement inside the bar. A moment later Kinross emerged, the hulking figure of Guthrie just behind him.

Kinross’s ice-chip eyes brushed on Fraser and me before fixing on Brody.

‘We want some answers.’

With everything else that had happened, I’d forgotten about Brody’s promise to explain what was going on. Fraser began to draw himself up, shoulders bunched aggressively, but Brody cut him off.

‘Aye, I dare say you do. Just give us a minute here, will you?’

Kinross seemed inclined to argue. Then he gave a short nod. ‘You can have two.’

He and Guthrie went back into the bar. Fraser turned on Brody, angrily jabbing a finger at him.

‘You’re not a bloody inspector any more! I told you before, you’ve no authority to tell them anything!’

Brody kept his voice level. ‘They’ve a right to know.’

Fraser’s face had darkened. The shock of Duncan’s death-and perhaps his sense of guilt-had been building up all day. Now he was looking for somewhere to vent it.

‘A police officer’s been murdered! As far as I’m concerned nobody on this island has a right to anything!’

‘Two people are dead already. You want to risk anyone else being killed because you didn’t warn them?’

‘He’s right,’ I said. I’d been in a situation once before where the police hadn’t released information, and people had died as a result. ‘You’ve got to tell them what we’re dealing with. If not you’re putting more lives at risk.’

Fraser had a cornered look about him, but he wasn’t giving in. ‘I’m not taking votes on it! I’m not telling anybody anything without proper orders, and neither is anyone else!’

‘No?’ A muscle was ticking in Brody’s jaw, but that was the only outward sign of any emotion. ‘That’s one good thing about being retired. I don’t have to worry about red tape.’

Fraser grabbed hold of his arm as he started towards the bar. ‘You’re not going in there!’

‘What are you going to do? Arrest me?’

He looked at the police sergeant disdainfully. Fraser dropped first his gaze, and then his hand.

‘I’m not having anything to do with this,’ he mumbled.

‘Then don’t,’ Brody said, and walked away.

I went with him, leaving Fraser standing in the hallway. We had to ease through the crush in the bar. People shuffled aside as we went in, the murmur of conversation dying to a pin-drop silence. It was a small enough room to begin with, not meant for this sort of number. Ellen was serving behind the bar, looking flustered. I spotted Cameron, cleaned up and standing by himself in a corner. He’d obviously made it back after coming off his bike, but the look he gave me was no warmer than before. Maggie was there too, standing with a group that included Kinross and Guthrie, a look of anticipation on her face.

But other than that most were people I didn’t recognise. There was no sign of Strachan, although that was hardly surprising. Even if he’d been told about the meeting he wouldn’t have wanted to leave Grace by herself in order to come.

I hoped we wouldn’t need him to calm things down this time.

Brody made his way to the fireplace and calmly surveyed the room.

‘I know you’re all wondering what’s going on,’ he said, his voice carrying without effort. ‘By now I’m sure you’re all aware that Grace Strachan was attacked this afternoon. And most of you will have heard that the police are treating the body found in the old cottage near Beinn Tuiridh as a suspicious death.’

He paused, looking round the room. I noticed that Fraser had come into the bar. He stood in the doorway, listening sullenly.

‘What you don’t know is that some time last night, the police officer who was on duty there was murdered. Whoever killed him also torched the community centre and medical clinic, and almost killed Dr Hunter here as well.’

His words provoked an uproar. Brody raised his hands for quiet, but no one took any notice. There were angry shouts of surprise and protest. I could see Ellen looking nervous behind the bar, and found myself wondering if this was a mistake after all. Then a voice was bellowing above the rest.

‘Quiet, everyone! I said QUIET!’

The clamour died down. It was Kinross who’d shouted. In the silence that followed, the ferry captain stared across at Brody.

‘Are you saying it was somebody from the island? One of us?’

Brody stared back without flinching. ‘That’s exactly what I’m saying.’

There was a rumble of discontent, growing in volume. But it stilled as Kinross made himself heard again.

‘No.’ He shook his head emphatically. ‘No way.’

‘I don’t like it any more than you do. But the fact is that somebody on this island has killed two people and assaulted another.’