Кит Мори - Deadly Still

Wallace and Douglas told him about their confiscation of the peatreek supplies from the four illicit stills, along with their locations and the background on the owners.

‘We’ll need samples getting over to the forensic lab as soon as possible.’

‘Penny already asked us to get onto it, Piper,’ said Wallace. ‘We’re going to get them sorted and off on the next ferry.’

‘And I’ll liaise with Ian Gillesbie and tell him they are on their way, boss,’ added Penny.

‘Good work, folks,’ Torquil said as he retired to his office. He had just sat down when his mobile went off. It was Lorna calling from the Stornoway office.

‘Hi darling,’ she said. ‘I’ll have to be quick because Superintendent Lumsden is on the war path and he’s in a rush to catch the ferry over to West Uist. You need to know that he’s given an interview to Scottish TV and BBC Alba about him personally going to West Uist to take over the search for Vicky Spiers.’

‘That was predictable,’ Torquil replied.

‘Anyway, he’s given me a stack of things to do before he leaves and I’m going to be roped up for a while. He’s given me a bit of a roasting for spending so much time on your case rather than on what he calls “proper policing”. But this is important and I thought the sooner you know about it the better.’

Torquil pulled a writing pad closer to him. ‘Shoot, Lorna. I’ll make notes.’

‘I talked with Dr Lamont. He’s done the post-mortem on Robbie Ochterlonie. He would have talked to you, but since he already had my number and I attended the Jamie Mackintosh post-mortem, he contacted me.’

‘Sounds perfectly reasonable.’

‘He said that Mr Ochterlonie had died from a head injury. There were two components to it apparently. One was a blunt facial injury, which fractured his nose and produced what he called a Le Fort type 2 fracture. He explained that it’s a severe facial fracture. The nasal bones splintered and the three facial bones on each side, the maxilla, the zygoma and the orbital rim were all fractured. Dr Lamont says that a fall from standing will tend to produce a type 1 Le Fort fracture, which they call a floating palate. It is a low velocity impact injury. It is not too severe, but a type 2 is called a floating maxilla. The whole of the middle of the face gets detached and pushed inwards. Effectively, the face is smashed in. It is usually associated with a high velocity impact, falling from a height or impact at speed. He reckons it was because Robbie Ochterlonie was a big man.’

‘OK, I’ve got that down.’

‘He also had a contrecoup injury to the brain. That means the back of the brain was all bruised.’

‘Does that mean he was hit on the back of the head?’ Torquil asked quickly.

‘No, it’s French, as in contre coup , meaning the other side. The brain effectively bounced from the trauma and hit the back of the cranium. It is consistent with a Le Fort fracture type 2.’

‘What caused the fall though? Was there any evidence of a heart attack, or a stroke?’

‘He thinks he had a fit. There were petechial haemorrhages inside his brain and on the surface of it. They are tiny bleeds, but all over the place. He can’t say whether the fit occurred causing him to fall, or if it happened at impact as he fell. He wants to gather all the biochemical findings and the toxicology before he can say conclusively, but he wanted us to know the position now. He’s made a note for Ian Gillesbie the Senior Scene Examiner to liaise with us.’

‘Any idea how long that’s going to be, Lorna?’

Lorna laughed. ‘How long is a piece of string? Sorry, but I’d better go. Superintendent Lumsden is here. I thought I’d brief you now in case I don’t get time. I thought maybe you could get Penny to catch Ian Gillesbie, since she worked with him at the scenes.’

‘Aye, you’re probably right, especially if Lumsden is coming over to take charge of the search.’

Hamish McNab was always careful to cover his tracks. He had done so all his life even though he liked to play with fire, but being careful had thus far prevented him from actually getting burned. He considered himself a past master in the art of using people to his advantage and prided himself on finding soft spots to exploit.

He liked the mist and fog, those wonderful meteorological conditions that gave one blanket cover to come and go. It was especially to his liking when he had things to do, to take care of. Like arranging one of his clandestine meetings. This one had been arranged quickly in response to her text.

After parking his SUV in the boathouse where her old Fiat was already parked out of possible sight, he walked round and let himself into the old fisherman’s cottage by the sea. It was one of the discrete properties around the island that he had acquired over the years.

She was waiting for him, drinking a bottle of lager. She had removed her work clothes and was sitting on the settee dressed in her undies. The full works, suspender belt, fishnet stockings, all the frilly stuff that turned him on. He knew that her soft spot was to act out her fantasies. Respectable care assistant and churchy-churchy lady to everyone she knew, but internally a wanton tigress. He was pleased with the way he had groomed her so that she would spy for him.

‘You took your time,’ she said, dangling her shoe by the toes of her crossed leg. ‘Like I told you in my text, Inspector McKinnon was around at the Hydro asking questions.’

‘Asking about what, Doreen?’ he asked, slumping down beside her and reaching out to stroke her fishnet covered knee. ‘About me?’

‘No, he never even mentioned you. He wanted to know if Robbie Ochterlonie had a secret still. And he wanted to know if he could have had a secret relationship with anyone.’

‘What did you say?’

‘I said I didn’t know about a still.’

‘And a relationship?’

‘I said I thought it was likely.’

Hamish nodded as he continued to stroke her knee. ‘Good girl. Did he ask anything about Catriona McDonald?’

She lay the bottle on the side table and guided his hand higher up her thigh. ‘Nothing at all.’

‘Good, you’re a great little spy, so you are,’ he returned with a chuckle before kissing her bare shoulder and letting his hand be led by hers. ‘How are we for time?’

‘I have until five o’clock. I took care of arrangements.’

‘No rush then,’ he said, running a hand up her back to unclip her bra. Soon he would take her to bed. He liked to pay his debts off straight away, especially when the paying was such pleasure.

Ewan arrived at the station at a little before half past seven the next morning. He was surprised by the silence when he unlocked the front door.

‘ Creideamh! Did I forget to switch on the alarm last night?’ he muttered to himself. ‘That’s careless, Ewan. You’ve too much on your mind.’

He grinned to himself as he thought of DC Penny Faversham. He was determined to ask her to go for a drink with him soon. But as he opened the cupboard containing the alarm control box he found that it was flashing. Puzzled, he looked up at the siren and saw that the wires leading to it had been cut.

‘Stop! Police!’ he called out as he flicked up the counter flap and went quickly through to the corridor and then noisily checked each room, ever ready as he did so in case the intruder was still on the premises.

The back door was closed, but the lock was damaged. Before he did anything else he pulled out his mobile phone and called Morag. She answered almost immediately.

‘Sergeant Driscoll, it’s me, Ewan.’

‘It must be more bad news if you are using my rank. What’s wrong, Ewan?’