S Bolton - Sacrifice

'The loveliest and loneliest place on earth,' said Richard, and he seemed to be voicing my thoughts.

I took a large gulp of wine. It was excellent. Elspeth and Richard's home had a huge cellar beneath it, but, unlike ours, it was kept well stocked. Richard took my arm and led me to an armchair near the fire and Elspeth scurried forward with a loaded plate. I surrendered myself to their hospitality and ate and drank gratefully, doing my best to respond to Elspeth's attempts at polite conversation.

Half an hour later, while Duncan and his father were discussing the state of the roads on the island and plans to develop some of its peat resources, I excused myself and went upstairs to our room. When we stayed with Duncan's parents, we slept in the best guest room – not, as I had first expected, in Duncan's old room. That, he'd told me once, had been in the attic but had since been converted into storage. I hadn't asked what had happened to all his old stuff, all the dusty souvenirs of childhood.

I pulled my mobile out of my bag and checked messages. There were three from Dana and I felt a glimmer of affection for her. She, at least, was not part of the general conspiracy to get me out of the loop. I knew my mobile wouldn't work too well this far north so I risked using the landline in the bedroom. She answered on the second ring.

'Thank God, Tora, where are you?'

'Serving exile in the Siberian wastelands.' The bedroom phone was by the window. Our room faced east. I could see more hills, bathed in a rich rosy light, and the strawberry-pink waters of the inland lake behind the house.

'Come again?'

I explained.

'Well, that's probably good. At least you'll be safe up there.'

Why did everyone keep going on about my safety? It was unnerving, to say the least.

'Can you tell me what's been happening?' A puffin landed on the window ledge and looked directly at me.

'Of course. I just got back from Edinburgh. I went to interview a Jonathan Wheeler. He's the regular pathologist at your place. Been on sick leave for a few months.'

'Yes, I've heard of him. What did you find out?' The puffin, bored with me, started wiping his multi-coloured beak against the stone of the ledge.

'Well, it didn't help that he'd obviously been warned I was coming. Your friend Gifford needs banging up for obstructing justice, if you ask me, but that's hardly likely to happen, is it, given that he and my inspector are old rugger-bugger shower buddies, sharing a soap on a rope and any number-'

'Dana!' Not that I wasn't enjoying her invective against Gifford but I knew my time was limited. I could hear movement downstairs.

'Sorry. Anyway, that notwithstanding, he seemed pretty straight. I took him down to Edinburgh nick, kept him sweating in the interview room for half an hour, gave him the full treatment. He remembered the case – well, he would, wouldn't he, having had his memory jogged by your boss – and was pretty forthcoming with the details. Haven't got my notes in front of me but it all seemed to square with what we'd been told. Young woman, malignant lumps in both breasts and extensive spread of the cancer through most of her major organs. I tell you what didn't fit, though.'

'What?'

'Well, apparently Melissa Gair was pregnant when she first went to her GP. Very early stages. Even Stephen Gair didn't know.'

'Gifford told me.'

There was a sharp intake of breath. 'Bloody man's a menace. Anyway, Melissa and her GP did a urine test that proved she was pregnant, but by the time of the post-mortem, three weeks later, she wasn't.'

I was sorry to dampen Dana's enthusiasm but I didn't want her chasing stray hares.

'That's very easily explained.'

'How?'

'Lots of early pregnancies fail to develop. Eggs get fertilized and the pregnancy hormone appears in the woman's blood, giving a positive pregnancy test, but then the egg dies. Melissa could have had a period between her visit to the GP and being admitted to hospital that was actually a very early miscarriage. Given the invasive nature of the cancer, I'd say that was pretty likely.'

There was silence, while Dana processed the information I'd just given her.

'Dana,' I continued, when she still hadn't spoken. 'I've been thinking about something. Maybe the woman who was admitted to hospital with cancer, who died there, the one you've been researching all day, wasn't Melissa Gair. Maybe records got mixed up.'

'We thought of that.'

'And…'

'It was her. Her GP is adamant that Melissa came to see him. He'd known her for years. We also spoke to the receptionist at the practice. She knew Melissa, too. The hospital staff didn't know her personally but I've shown them photographs and they're pretty sure it was her. Of course, she'd changed quite a bit by the time she was admitted. Pain does that to people, apparently. But they all, distinctly and separately, remembered her hair and her skin. She was a striking-looking woman.'

'They could be lying.'

She was quiet for a moment.

'Well, possibly. But their stories all match perfectly. We've been over it with them time after time and nothing budges.'

I thought for a moment. 'Did she have a twin?'

'No. An older brother, lives in the States.'

'So were Stephen Renney and I wrong? Was I wrong about the dental records?' I couldn't believe it, but it seemed the only possible explanation.

'No, you weren't wrong. We've had another dentist look at the records. The body in the morgue is definitely Melissa. And another post-mortem has been carried out. She most certainly had a baby. They also found a small lump in her left breast. It's being tested but they think it probably wasn't malignant.'

I was quiet for a moment. My brain simply could not compute the facts I was feeding into it.

'We're going round in circles,' I said eventually.

'Tell me about it.'

'So what happens next?'

'No one seems to know. The hospital staff and the GP have all gone home. So has Stephen Gair.'

'You let them go?'

Even over the phone line I could feel Dana's frustration. 'Tora, who is our suspect? What do we charge them with? We have six – no, seven – respectable members of the medical profession all saying the same thing: a woman called Melissa Gair was admitted with acute breast cancer in September 2004. Given the advanced stage of the disease, she wasn't expected to live beyond a few weeks and she died in hospital. Everything was done by the book. There's no reason to doubt their stories.'

'Other than the obvious,' I snapped. The puffin whipped its head in my direction and took off. Within seconds it had disappeared over the cliffs.

'We'd have to prove that seven of them colluded, together with Stephen Gair himself, to fake a death. We haven't a clue how that could have happened, or what their motive was. We can't even begin to start constructing a case against them.'

I couldn't think of anything to say. Then I could. 'Life insurance. How much was she insured for?'

'I'm checking Gair's finances but probably not enough to pay off seven other people as well. The other thing is that Stephen Gair has identified the body in the morgue. He says it's definitely his wife.'

'The one he watched die three years ago.' My voice was rising.

'Hold your fire, Doc, I'm just the messenger. My point is, would he make a positive identification if he was involved in foul play three years ago?'

'Tor, are you OK?' Duncan was standing at the bottom of the stairs, shouting up at me.

'I have to go,' I said to Dana. 'I'll call you.'

Duncan had his back to the peat fire. His parents sat close by. Even in May the air on Unst had a distinct chill to it. Duncan, I noticed, had finished the wine and moved on to Lagavulin, a single Highland malt that makes me think of rancid bacon.