Journeyman

by Heather Atkinson

  “You’re a very attractive woman,” he began.

  “Thank you,” she beamed before showering his face with kisses.

  “Cherie, please,” he said, having to wrestle her away. “This isn’t right.”

  “I wouldn’t have thought that would bother you.”

  “Well it does.”

  Tears filled her eyes. “You don’t like me. You’d rather have that fat, frumpy cow Bess. She let herself go years ago while I took care of myself but everyone fancies her. I don’t get it.”

  One Eye wanted to say that was probably because Bess was fun, warm and secure in herself but he didn’t think that would help. “It’s nothing to do with her. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m very tired…”

  Cherie shot to her feet, trembling with indignation. “I thought you were a real man Nik. Clearly I was wrong.”

  “I am a real man, just a tired and sore one.”

  “Poof,” she snarled at him before flinging open the door, gasping and staggering back when she saw Helen standing in the corridor wrapped in her dressing gown. “What are you doing lurking there?”

  “I was thirsty, I needed some water.” Helen looked from her mother to One Eye. “What’s going on?” she said casually before taking a sip from the glass she held.

  “Nothing,” said Cherie before bursting into tears and racing down the hall and upstairs.

  “I can assure you I behaved like a gentleman,” One Eye told Helen.

  “I know, I overheard,” she said with a wicked grin. “No need to be embarrassed, it’s not the first time she’s tried it on with a guest. At least you had the dignity to turn her down.”

  “It can’t be very nice for you,” he said sympathetically.

  “I got used to it years ago,” she replied with a shrug. “You have to have a sense of humour to live in this house. Well, night Nik.”

  “Goodnight Helen.”

  She closed his door for him before padding upstairs.

  One Eye switched on his bedside lamp, flooding the room with a calm orange glow, chasing away the shadows. Glancing at the clock he sighed to see it was just after midnight. His ankle was now steadily throbbing thanks to Cherie and her hormones. He didn’t like to take painkillers but if he wanted to sleep tonight he had little choice, so he washed them down with the bottle of orange juice on the table beside the lamp. While he waited for the pain to subside he retrieved his book on local history from the backpack Connell had found for him and began to read, deciding to look up the history of the area. There were some nice stories about Flora MacDonald hiding Bonnie Prince Charlie in the area. He did so admire these strong, redoubtable women without whom the menfolk wouldn’t have got very far. There were more great tales about the local tough womenfolk seeing off sheriff officers and policemen from Glasgow when they attempted to oust them from their crofts.

  The feeling crept over him slowly, insidiously. It started at his feet and worked its way up his body, so gradual he didn’t notice it at first until his stomach dropped and ice filled his bones. His head snapped towards the window opposite his bed, the book falling to his lap. He couldn’t see outside as the heavy tartan curtains had been drawn.

  Throwing aside the duvet he got to his feet, having to lean on one of the crutches. Fortunately the painkillers were starting to kick in, so it didn’t hurt as much as he’d expected.

  After turning out the light he waited until his eyes had grown accustomed to the darkness. Once he could make out vague shapes he limped towards the window.

  He stood side-on to the window, attempting to see through the gap at the side but the task was impossible, the material of the curtain too heavy. So he pulled back one corner to peer out. The moon was high in the sky, its glow slightly subdued by misty cloud. All he could see were the trees marking the way down to the village. Beyond that, nothing.

  Movement to the right by the tree line caught his eye. He was just about able to make out the shadow picking its way down the path towards the village, away from the B&B. He breathed a sigh of relief that the shadow was too small and slight to be Silas. Was it Alan off on a mysterious night time walk? Frederick out photographing nocturnal creatures? Cherie stumbling about the countryside searching for a man to sleep with her?

  He jumped when something banged against the glass.

  “You silly old fool,” he chided himself, his heart rate starting to slow.

  He glimpsed black feathers, the large beak tapping against the glass before the raven took off into the air, accompanied by its mate. The shadow he’d seen might not have been Silas but danger was certainly near.

  He was about to let the curtain drop when another shadow, much bigger this time filled the window, a pair of blazing dark eyes staring back at him. An enormous hand slapped against the glass, shaking it in its frame.

  Silas stood on the other side, gurning at him, drawing one finger across his throat. A solid six foot six wall of muscle and violence. The skin on the right side of his face was scarred and twisted from the fire One Eye had thought he’d died in.

  “You’ve tried for years,” replied One Eye. “And failed.”

  Another massive hand smacking against the glass was his response.

  There was the sound of footsteps charging downstairs. One Eye looked back at Silas, who gave him one last glare before disappearing into the night, moving swifter and more silently than he would ever have credited someone of his build but Silas was an expert in guerrilla tactics, hitting his target before they even knew he was there. He’d only made so much noise while chasing him through the woods because One Eye had already known he was there and because he hadn’t known the terrain. No doubt Silas had made good use of his time here, ensuring he knew every square inch intimately.

  “What’s going on?” said Alan bursting into the room in striped pyjamas, hair askew, eyes hazy from sleep.

  “Something hit the window,” replied One Eye. At least he now knew the mysterious figure wasn’t Alan. This pleased him as he rather liked Alan and he got the feeling that figure was up to no good.

  Alan hit the light, flooding the room with it, making One Eye squint. “What was it?”

  “I don’t know, that’s what I was trying to see,” he replied, turning his gaze back to the window. There was no sign of Silas or the smaller shadow he’d seen earlier.

  Alan stood by his side, cupping his hand against the glass in an attempt to see more clearly. “It doesn’t look like the glass was damaged, thank God.”

  “No, there’s no cracks. You heard the bang all the way upstairs?”

  “Yes I did. It was loud enough to wake me and there’s not much that can wake me once I’m out for the count.”

  One Eye thought that was fortunate for Cherie.

  “What’s happening?” said Helen, appearing in the room in fleece Scottie dog pyjamas. “I heard a bang.”

  “Something hit the window,” said One Eye. “I think it was a bird.”

  “Must have been a big bird,” she commented.

  “It was probably one of those ravens,” said Alan. “I mean, we’ve always had ravens around here but there seems to have been a population explosion.”

  “Well, emergency over,” yawned Helen. “I’m back off to bed.”

  “Alright sweetheart,” said Alan, taking one more look outside as his daughter headed upstairs. “What the…?”

  “What is it?” said One Eye.

  “I thought I saw someone…never mind, I think it’s just a tree blowing in the wind.”

  “But there isn’t any wind.”

  “We get freak breezes coming through here,” he replied before straightening up and closing the curtains. “Goodnight Nik.”

  “Goodnight,” he replied, watching him stride purposefully from the room.

  One Eye climbed back into bed, shivering against the cool night air, which had permeated his pyjamas. Knowing sleep would elude him for a while after that experience he returned to his book, the stories of the good women of Skye taking his
mind off the danger that stalked him.

  “You fucking what?” exploded Damon at breakfast the next morning.

  “Keep your voice down,” said Raven when the other diners turned to look their way.

  Damon however couldn’t care less what a bunch of strangers he’d never see again thought. “We don’t need Aidan, we can handle this ourselves.”

  “He didn’t give me much choice.”

  “He’ll shove his way in, bossing us about and generally being a dick.”

  “Don’t call him that and he won’t, he wants to help. We’re his family.”

  “He’s never liked me or Dad.”

  “That’s not true. He likes you both.”

  “Well, I think he likes Dad a bit but me and him have never got on.”

  “Then here’s your perfect opportunity to try. Oh come on Damon,” she added when he scowled at her. “Don’t tell me you wouldn’t like Aidan’s skills to help deal with Silas?”

  “I’m not some helpless little girl who needs him to protect me.”

  Raven sighed. “I know that but he’ll be a good help. We could use some back-up tackling Silas.”

  “Well, maybe. But if he starts on me I’m knocking him out.”

  “Fair enough,” she said before biting into a piece of toast. “Now hurry up and finish your breakfast so we can get back on the road.”

  He frowned when his phone rang. “I don’t recognise the number.”

  She leaned forward with interest as he answered the call. “Hello?” He rolled his eyes. “I don’t know when we’ll be back. No you can’t, our stuff’s still in the rooms. Yeah, we’ll pay. Hang on,” he said, digging his wallet out of his pocket and producing a bank card. He rhymed off the number in a bored tone. “That gone through? Yeah, thanks. I don’t know, we’re looking for my dad, I told you he’s gone missing,” he said, sounding a little annoyed. “Will do. Yeah, see you. Bye.”

  “Let me guess,” said Raven when he’d hung up. “The hotel in Inverness?”

  “Yeah. It was that nice piece I shagged. I think she just wanted an excuse to call me.”

  “I agree seeing how the rooms were booked under my name.”

  “Not to worry. I’ve paid up for the rest of the week, so they should stay off our backs.”

  “Good. In hindsight we should have checked out but we didn’t think we’d be on the island this long.”

  “So where to today?”

  “Seakbost.”

  “Weird name.”

  “It’s only seven miles away, it shouldn’t take long to check. Then we have a choice - the north west part of the island or the north east. Glendale’s west.”

  “Where that text message said Dad was?”

  She nodded, taking a sip of tea.

  “Fuck it,” he said. “West.”

  “I agree, we have to check. You ready?”

  “Yeah,” he said, getting to his feet. “I hope we’re making the right decision heading west.”

  “The way I see it, we’ve no choice.”

  CHAPTER 13

  After a disturbed night One Eye was enjoying a lie in, curled up all snug beneath the comfortable duvet. His peace was ruined when the front door banged open and a cacophony of voices filled the air.

  “For God’s sake,” he sighed, pulling the pillow over his head.

  Even beneath the eiderdown he could detect Cherie’s shrill exclamations and Alan’s deep booms, tempered by Helen’s gentle, even voice. He thought it very fortunate that girl had managed to grow up without adopting any of her parent’s dramatic tendencies.

  “Finally,” he said, replacing the pillow beneath his head and nestling back into his cosy nest when the voices were muffled, he assumed because they’d gone into the lounge to chat.

  He was just drifting off again when there was a knock at his door.

  “Oh what?” he groaned.

  “Sorry to disturb Nik,” Alan called through the door. “But PC Connell’s here, he wants to talk to you.”

  “Now?”

  “Yes, I’m afraid so. It is urgent.”

  The thought of dragging himself out of the warmth and comfort was not an appealing one. “Fine. Give me five minutes, I need to put on some clothes.”

  “I’ll pass that on.”

  One Eye listened to him pad away. “I thought it was supposed to be peaceful in the country,” he sighed.

  As he dressed he mulled over what could have happened. Had Silas been spotted? Christ he hoped not.

  After pulling on a black jumper, a pair of grey trousers and his slippers he headed into the lounge with the assistance of one of his crutches to find Connell alone.

  “Good morning,” smiled One Eye before practically falling into his preferred armchair. Connell remained standing, giving himself the position of power. Had his ankle allowed it, One Eye would have preferred to remain standing too. “So what’s this about?”

  “You don’t know?”

  “Should I?”

  “Bess Reardon was found murdered this morning.”

  One Eye was so stunned he just stared at Connell for a few moments. “What?”

  “She was found in bed. It appears she was killed in her sleep.”

  “How?”

  “Knifed in the heart. By the look of it she didn’t suffer.”

  “My God.”

  “She didn’t come down to open the shop like she normally did, so Arthur went up to the flat to find her. Naturally he assumed she’d slept in because she was hungover. The poor man fainted.”

  “I’m not surprised. How awful. I can’t believe that lively, bright woman is gone.”

  “None of us can. Bess was born and raised here. The village will never be the same again,” sighed Connell.

  One Eye wondered if the young officer was a member of the Bess fan club too.

  “Where were you between eleven and one this morning?” said Connell.

  “Well here of course, in bed.”

  “Can anyone corroborate that?”

  “No. I did see Alan and Helen at about, I think it was just after twelve thirty.” He decided to omit Cherie’s attempted seduction, he didn’t want to embarrass her. “There was a loud bang at my bedroom window.”

  “What was it?”

  “We’re not sure, although we think it was a large bird.”

  “Did you see anyone?”

  One Eye considered Silas’s massive form filling his entire window. “No.”

  “You seemed a bit uncertain there.”

  He thought now was the perfect opportunity to throw in some doubt. “To be honest, I am. Both myself and Alan looked to see what had hit the window but neither of us could see anything. We assumed it was a bird because we couldn’t think what else it could be.”

  Connell scribbled something down in his notebook. “I will be checking that with Alan.”

  “As you wish.”

  “Bess spent the majority of last night with you in the pub.”

  “Well not just me. She was sat at a table with myself, Alan, Cherie and Helen. Simon turned up too.”

  “But she sat there to talk to you. From what I saw she monopolised your conversation for most of the night.”

  “If you say so but I didn’t leave with her. Roberta and Helena escorted her home.”

  “Did you make any arrangements to meet up with her?”

  “No.”

  “Did she mention anything that indicated she was in danger or had received any threats?”

  “Not at all. She was very pleasant, lively company.”

  “If you were enjoying her company so much why didn’t you leave with her?”

  “Excuse me?” said One Eye.

  Connell blushed slightly. “I thought, judging by how well you were getting on, you would have gone back to her flat with her.”

  One Eye determined to make him as uncomfortable as possible. “I got on well with a lot of people last night. Should I have gone back with them too?”

  “That’s no
t what I’m saying.”

  “What are you saying Officer?”

  Connell cleared his throat. “It was well known Bess liked good looking men, which you are…”

  “Why thank you,” he smiled.

  Connell coloured even more. “It was obvious she found you attractive,” he valiantly continued. “I’d go as far as to say the feeling was mutual.”

  “You mean you and her both think I’m attractive?”

  “I mean you thought she was attractive,” he barked.

  “Oh I see.”

  Connell cleared this throat again. “Bess wasn’t shy about coming forward. Err…”

  “If you’re trying to ask why I didn’t go back with her to have sex why don’t you just come out with it?”

  “Why didn’t you?”

  “Two reasons. Firstly, because she was obviously drunk and I don’t take advantage of drunk women. Secondly, my ankle isn’t up to any strenuous activity.”

  “That makes sense I suppose,” he mumbled, relieved that line of questioning was over. “Did you see her again after you left the pub last night?”

  “No.”

  “Did you want to see her again?”

  “Yes, although sadly that’s not going to happen now.”

  “Since you’ve been here have you seen or heard anything to indicate who could have killed her?”

  “No, can’t say I have, although Duncan who was in the pub last night did seem rather aggressive. He’s the first person I’ve met in this village who isn’t very pleasant.”

  “That’s odd because he suggested the stranger in the village whose background we have no idea about as he has amnesia could well be responsible. There hasn’t been a murder here since nineteen fifty four when two men got into a drunken fight and one ended up smashing the other’s head in with a brick.”

  “That’s hardly fair. Just because I’m a stranger doesn’t mean I’m a killer. Someone could have been waiting to kill poor Bess and decided I would be a good scapegoat, which is why they decided to strike now.”

  The look that filled Connell’s eyes indicated he hadn’t thought of that.

  “Interesting,” replied Connell with a nod. He flipped his notebook shut and got to his feet. “Thank you. That’s all, for now.”