Кит Мори - Deathly Wind

‘It’s my business as well, if you are planning to kill hedgehogs. I’ll stop you.’

Alistair McKinley grunted. ‘Don’t even think of messing with me, lassie. I’ve lost my boy and today I’m in a killing mood. I’m going to do what I need to do to ease my own pain.’ He gunned the engine and engaged first gear. ‘Now get out of my way.’

Megan stood staring after him, her temper seething.

‘So much pain, so much hurt,’ she mused. ‘I’ve got pain of my own, you stupid old man. And I know how I’m going to deal with it.’

‘Shop! Anyone home?’ Calum Steele slapped his hand on the counter of the Kyleshiffin police station.

Wallace Drummond came through, a mug of tea in his hand. At sight of the tubby editor in his yellow anorak, he shook his head as if in disbelief. ‘Dear me, you have a nerve, Calum Steele! Behaving like a hooligan after all that you have been doing.’

The smile that had been on Calum’s face was quickly replaced by a look of injured pride, and then by one of puzzlement, and finally by one of pure irritation. ‘What are you babbling about, you teuchter? I hope you are not referring to my article,’ – the smile momentarily resurfaced – ‘or my television appearance?’

‘I thought it was an interview over the telephone that you gave, not an appearance,’ said Wallace. ‘But I should be warning you, Inspector McKinnon is not pleased.’

‘So it’s Inspector McKinnon today, is it?’ Calum returned sarcastically. ‘Well, is Inspector McKinnon in to have a word with me?’

‘I’m here, Calum,’ said Torquil, coming out of the recreation-room at the sound of the Chronicle editor’s voice. ‘And I’m glad to see you.’

Calum beamed and looked disdainfully at Wallace.

‘Because I was meaning to give you a right royal telling off!’ exclaimed Torquil. ‘Just what on earth did you think you were doing with that piece of drivel about killer eagles? And printing that photograph was just downright irresponsible.’

‘Ir – irresponsible?’ Calum repeated. ‘Me? I’m the most responsible reporter on the island.’

‘Calum, you are the only reporter on West Uist,’ replied Torquil.

‘Aye, reporter, editor, photographer and printer. I am the media on West Uist.’

‘You are a windbag!’ Wallace interjected.

Calum looked thunderstruck and raised his hands beseechingly to Torquil. ‘Did you hear that? I am–’

‘You are a nuisance at the moment, Calum,’ said Torquil. ‘And why did you go and spread this gossip to Scottish TV?’

‘I am a newsman, Piper. The public have a right to know about what’s happening on the island. Even the folk in Dundee and Glasgow have a right to know what’s happening in the real world.’

‘Well you may have shot the gun this time, Calum. We are treating the death of that young man as highly suspicious.’

The telephone rang three times and then stopped as someone answered it in the recreation-room.

Calum’s face registered instantaneous excitement. ‘Suspicious, did you say? Are you talking about suspicion of death caused by an eagle attack – or something else? Come on, Piper. Give me a piece of—’

‘Calum, it’s a good piece of my mind that you are getting now. You need—’

Morag popped her head round the corner. ‘Sorry, boss, it’s Superintendent Lumsden on the line. He says he wants to talk to you straight away.’ She grimaced helplessly. ‘Like right now!’

Torquil gave a sigh of irritation. ‘OK Morag. Could you take over with Calum here.’

Morag nodded and moved aside to let Torquil pass. Then advancing to the desk, she asked, ‘Right then, Calum, where were you with Torquil.’

‘The inspector was ticking him off, Sergeant Driscoll,’ Wallace volunteered.

‘Away with you,’ returned Calum. He leaned conspiratorially on the counter. ‘Actually, he was just telling me that you lot suspect murder. Tell me more, Sergeant Morag!’

Torquil took the call in his office. As soon as he lifted the receiver Superintendent Lumsden snapped; ‘I’ve just come off the phone with your new laird.’

‘You mean the new landowner, Superintendent,’ Torquil interrupted.

‘Don’t mince words with me, McKinnon! The thing is, he’s upset. Not only has one of his employees been involved in a fatal accident, but his dog has been poisoned.’

‘I was aware that he suspects his dog was poisoned, sir.’

‘This is his second dog. He’s feeling angry and thinks there may be a conspiracy against him.’

‘There certainly seems to be bad feeling against him on West Uist. He has hardly endeared himself to the residents of the Wee Kingdom. He has started erecting wind towers before the situation has been clarified.’

‘He’s also fuming about the newspaper and the piece on the news.’

‘I was just having a word with Calum Steele when you telephoned, sir. I understood that you wanted me to telephone you after the meeting.’

‘Well, what was the result?’

‘I think it was almost certainly murder, Superintendent Lumsden. I will fax the report through to you shortly. I think under the circumstances we will have to seal the island off.’

‘Of course. Any suspects.’

‘Too early to say, Superintendent.’

‘Any leads?’

‘A few. They’ll all be in my report.’

There was a sharp intake of breath from the other end of the line, and a wince of pain. Torquil imagined the big policeman in his crisp uniform, with his foot bandaged. He felt little sympathy for his superior officer.

‘OK, get on with it. Let me have that report as soon as possible. Meanwhile, I’ll call the laird and tell him that there is now a murder inquiry going on.’

‘Of course, Superintendent. Shall—?’

But before he could finish, there was a click and he once more found himself staring at the dead receiver.

Morag tapped on the door. ‘I gave Calum the official line. We have no information to divulge and we are making inquiries. And I told him to behave.’

Torquil gave a half smile. ‘And we can be sure that he won’t! Ah well, let’s get on with this thing. First of all, we have to seal the island off.’

‘I took the liberty of getting on with that. No more ferries until further notice.’

Torquil smiled. ‘What would I do without you, Morag?’

She returned his smile. ‘The same as I’d do without you, boss. Just don’t think of going! I hate to think what would happen if it was me who had to speak to Superintendent Lumsden.’

After Katrina had left, Nial continued his round of the coast, stopping every now and then to get out of his car and check out the nesting birds on the machair dunes and the cliffs. He mechanically jotted his recordings in a small notebook which he would later transcribe onto his laptop. The truth was that his mind was not fully on the job. Even spotting one of the eagles wing its way towards its high eyrie in the Corlins did not fill him with his usual enthusiasm. Instead, he was preoccupied by the women in his life.

Until a few days ago he had thought that he was madly in love with Megan. Then she had almost gone potty over those dead hedgehogs, and done a Lady Macbeth thing. It had spooked him, he had to admit, and it was then that he had become aware of the emotional door standing ajar. And shining through that opening was Katrina and his feelings for her. He grinned and felt a deep inner warmth as he thought of how rapidly those feelings had heated up until they had reached boiling point, for both of them, culminating in the passionate love-making that they had just enjoyed in the long grass of the machair.

Except that Katrina had emotional baggage. That policeman, Ewan McPhee. She felt guilty about him and She would have to work on that.