Simon Beckett - Written in Bone

Kinross folded his arms. ‘Well, it’s not one of us. If there was a killer here, don’t you think we’d know it?’

There were muttered ‘aye’s and murmurs of agreement. As Brody tried to make himself heard above the rising volume, Maggie squirmed her way to the front. She thrust out her dictaphone, as though this were a press conference.

‘The body that was found at the cottage. Do you know who it is?’

Brody paused. I knew he was making a judgement as to how much he should say.

‘It hasn’t been formally identified yet. But we think it might be a missing prostitute from Stornoway.’

I was watching Cameron as Brody spoke. But if the news meant anything to him he didn’t show it. And now other people were shouting their own questions.

‘What the hell was a tart from Lewis doing out here?’ Karen Tait called out. Her voice was already slurred.

Guthrie grinned. ‘Take a guess.’

No one laughed. The big man’s smirk slowly died. But I was more interested in another reaction. Kinross’s son Kevin had given a start at the mention of the dead woman. His mouth opened in a shocked ‘o’ before he realized I was watching him.

He quickly dropped his gaze.

Everyone else’s attention was still on Brody. ‘The police are going to be sending teams out here as soon as the weather allows. I’ll ask you all to cooperate with them when they arrive. Until then, we need you all to help us out. The cottage is a crime scene now, so please don’t go out there. When Scene of Crime get here, they don’t want to waste time chasing false leads. I know you’re going to be curious, but please keep away from it. And if any of you think you might have any information, you need to tell Sergeant Fraser over there.’

All eyes instinctively went to Fraser. He looked briefly surprised, then straightened almost imperceptibly, squaring his shoulders as he met the stares. It was a clever touch from Brody, a way of handing some self-respect back to Fraser, and reminding the islanders that there already was a police presence on Runa.

I thought the meeting would end there, but Cameron had other ideas. He’d been quiet so far, but now his orator’s voice filled the small room.

‘And meanwhile, are we expected to just sit tight and behave ourselves?’ He stood with his legs planted and his arms folded. He flicked Maggie a look of supercilious distaste as she pointed her tape recorder at him.

‘Unfortunately, there’s not much else we can do until the mainland police get here,’ Brody answered.

‘You tell us there’s a murderer loose on the island, practically accuse one of us, and then calmly tell us to do nothing?’ Cameron gave an incredulous snort. ‘Well, I for one don’t-’

‘Shut up, Bruce,’ Kinross said, without even bothering to look at him.

Cameron’s cheeks coloured. ‘I’m sorry, Iain, but I hardly think-’

‘Nobody here cares what you think.’

‘Well, excuse me, but who are you to…’

Cameron faltered to silence as Kinross’s icy stare swivelled to him. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he closed his mouth, swallowing whatever he had been about to say. I almost felt sorry for him. One way and another, the schoolteacher’s pride had taken a battering in recent days.

But no one was taking any notice of him now anyway. People were turning away, subdued conversations springing up again as they discussed what they’d just heard. Maggie lowered her dictaphone and gave me a troubled look before making her way out of the bar.

I looked over to where Kevin Kinross had been standing. But at some point the teenager had slipped away too.

We found an empty table when the bar started to thin out after the meeting. Fraser insisting on buying malts for himself and me and a tomato juice for Brody.

He raised his glass. ‘To Duncan. And to the bastard who killed him, Gonnadh ort!’

‘Oh, he’ll suffer, all right,’ Brody said, softly.

Solemnly, we toasted. Then I told them about Kevin Kinross’s reaction to the news that the murdered woman was a prostitute from Stornoway. Perhaps still smarting from his earlier loss of face, Fraser was dismissive.

‘Could be just excited at the thought of a prossie. A face like that, he’s probably still a virgin.’

‘Worth following up, even so,’ Brody mused. ‘Perhaps we should have a word with him tomorrow, if the support team still aren’t here.’

Fraser looked morosely into his glass. ‘I hope to Christ they are.’

So do I, I thought. So do I.

I made my excuses not long after that. I’d still not eaten, and on an empty stomach the alcohol made me feel light-headed with exhaustion. All at once the events of the past forty-eight hours seemed to catch up with me. I could hardly keep my eyes open.

Ellen was still serving behind the bar as I made my way out, struggling to cope with the unexpected demand. I didn’t think she’d seen me, but then I heard her call as I started up the stairs.

‘David?’ She hurried out of the bar. ‘I’m really sorry, I’ve not had chance to get you anything to eat.’

‘That’s all right. I’m going to get some sleep.’

‘Do you want me to bring something up? Soup, or a sandwich? Andrew’s minding the bar for me.’

‘I’m fine, really.’

There was a creak on the landing above us. We looked up to see Anna. She was in her nightdress, her face pale and bleary with sleep.

‘What have I told you about coming downstairs?’ Ellen scolded, as her daughter came down the rest of the way.

‘I had a bad dream. The wind took the lady away.’

‘What lady, sweetheart?’

‘I don’t know,’ Anna said querulously.

Ellen cuddled her. ‘It was just a dream, and it’s gone now. Did you thank Dr Hunter for the chocolate he bought you the other day?’

Anna considered, then shook her head.

‘Well, go on, then.’

‘But I’ve eaten it now.’

Ellen raised her eyes at me over her daughter’s head, suppressing a smile. ‘You can still say thank you.’

‘Thank you.’

‘That’s better. Now come on, young lady. Back to bed.’

The little girl was half asleep already. She slumped against her mother’s legs. ‘I can’t walk.’

‘And I can’t carry you. You’re too heavy.’

Anna lifted her head enough to regard me with a sleepy eye. ‘He can.’

‘No he can’t, madam. He’s got a poorly arm.’

‘It’s OK. I can manage,’ I said. Ellen looked doubtfully at my sling. ‘I’d be happy to. Really.’

I hoisted Anna up. Her hair smelled cleanly of shampoo. She snuggled down against my shoulder, just as my own daughter used to. The small, solid weight of her was upsetting and comforting at the same time.

I followed Ellen back to the attic floor, where there were two small private rooms. Anna barely stirred as her mother pulled back the sheets and I lowered her into her bed. I stood back as Ellen covered her again and smoothed her daughter’s hair before we crept out and went back downstairs.

She paused when we reached my floor, hand resting on the wooden banister as she looked at me. Her penetrating gaze was concerned.

‘Are you OK?’

She didn’t have to say what she meant. I smiled.

‘Fine.’

Ellen knew enough not to push. With a final goodnight she went back down to the bar. I went into my room and sank down on the mattress fully clothed. I could smell the stink of smoke on my clothes, but it seemed like too much effort to get into bed. I could still feel the phantom weight of Anna. If I closed my eyes I could almost pretend it was Alice’s. I sat there, thinking about my dead family as I listened to the wind howl outside. More than ever, I wished I could call Jenny.

But that was something else I couldn’t do anything about.