by G R Jordan
Macleod was going to be a challenge but she knew he was rated by his boss. In a changing police force, he was known to be struggling with the rise of women and with gender issues as a whole but he was also known to be one of the best detectives going. Indeed, he had the sense to only infer prejudices, not speak them outright. And as a devoted churchman, a staunch Presbyterian and not from the moderate churches either, he was certainly no progressive. But if she could impress him, it might help her career.
The door opened and Macleod held it open as Hope walked in. He offered her the seat at the desk but she shook her head and said she would take the bed.
“I know you younger people don’t really see any issue but I’d rather you sat on the chair. I’m not that keen on you being so underdressed in here but to be lying on my bed isn’t really appropriate.”
“I really don’t see any issue,” said Hope, “and trust me, sir, this isn’t underdressed. But as you wish, whatever you are at ease with.” She noticed a coffee was already waiting for her at the desk in the room and sat down and took a sip.
“Hmm, that’s nice,” she remarked trying to break the tension.
“No it’s not. It’s the same cheap rubbish you get in those wee packets. If we’re here for any length of time we’ll need to get some proper stuff sorted. Especially at the investigation room. But anyway, tomorrow McGrath. Where should we be looking?”
“We need to check her recent places of employment for any issues. So her job in the shop. Also maybe check the gym, both on an informal and formal fashion.”
“Agreed. I think it’s open early. I was going to take my run on the treadmill tomorrow morning and see if mouths are talking. If she was the gym addict it looks like then I would expect her to be known there.”
“I’ll come down too. Gym and the pool, sir, worth checking both.”
“Good,” said Macleod. “It opens at seven so I’ll meet you downstairs. You having breakfast before?”
“No, can’t work out on a full stomach.”
“Me neither. At last something in common, Hope.”
Looking up from her notes she saw him smiling at her. This was obviously his attempt to connect, to make things easier. It was pretty flippant but she smiled back.
“We need to speak to our council woman again. If you were right about the initials, I think it best I take her. You should talk to MacDonald again. We should get to them early tomorrow, right after gym.”
“Indeed. And McGrath, if she was a customer, then I think she’ll want to keep it quiet, especially if there’s sex involved. Being a lesbian won’t go down well up here to a lot of people. It’s more open than it used to be but it ain’t the mainland.” Macleod shuffled a little awkwardly on the bed.
“From the look of what photos we have of her, she was a pretty attractive prospect to an older woman. She had a good figure, toned from the gym. And that councillor had shape for her age too. I could see it happening between them.”
Macleod was shifting uneasily again. It was obvious the whole lesbian idea was making him uncomfortable despite his probably seeing it many times before in cases back home.
“What’s the issue, sir? You seem a little off when I mention the two women possibly being together.”
Macleod stood up and walked to his window. “It’s like this, Hope. You no doubt know I have a faith in the Lord. He has been with me a long time now and has stood by me when I have struggled. Well, I ain’t that sure he approves of women together. But that’s me and I don’t going around shouting or decrying anyone, because people have a right to their life, whether I believe things are right or wrong.” He turned back to her. “I hope this doesn’t offend you but you did ask me.”
Hope smiled but was wondering where this was going to go.
“When I grew up here, that sort of thing wouldn’t have been tolerated. And there are plenty today who wouldn’t either. And the papers will have a field day with those who would cry out against and those who stand up for it. I guess I don’t want to see the powder keg explode. This place was home, Hope. It was home.”
“Isn’t it now?”
“No. No it isn’t.”
He had gone silent, unnervingly so and Hope decided not to push the issue at this time. She stood up and drained her coffee. Macleod was looking out of the window into the night which was almost a twilight rather than true dark.
“In the summer, it is almost light all the way through the night, Hope. Can you believe that? And in the winter it’s dark so early. Apparently Shetland’s even more extreme. When I was young I used to be out there wandering the town, stumbling along, hammered beyond belief. But I found my salvation in these churches, Hope. It means a lot to me this place, I hate to see it in a scandal, something the papers would relish. You get that?”
His eyes seemed pained when he looked at her with the question. She smiled and nodded. “But things change, sir. Sometimes we have to change with them.”
“But what if it’s a change for the worse. Do we just jump in the river? Do we simply stand on the bank and watch it flow past? Or do we build a dam and stop it?”
“That sounds like something that’s going to piss a lot of people off, building a dam.”
Macleod smiled. “Most people argue back. You really have a tender side, McGrath. Now you’d better go to bed, we have an early start.”
“Yes, sir.” Taking her notebook and pen, Hope made for the door. But something was bugging her, deep in her mind. “Sir, this faith of yours, is it really worth all these questions, this beating yourself up with the rights and wrongs? Why not just be free of it and be open to all things.”
Macleod laughed gently. “I should say it’s obviously worth it. But I won’t just give you the party line. Sometimes I have my doubts, but sometimes it’s the only thing that keeps me standing. You’ll never have a friend like Him.”
“The Genie in Aladdin. He sings something like that. Sorry, that’s a bit flippant.”
“Maybe. I don’t know the song.”
Hope said goodnight and exited to the corridor. It had all gotten a bit heavy, way off case. Opening her own door she locked it behind her before throwing the notebook on the table. She peeled off her nightwear and snuggled under the covers. Try as she might she could not sleep, questions about what truly bugged her boss being here ran through her head. But these thoughts had to fight away a little tune sung by a blue genie, which seemed to be on repeat.
Chapter 7
Macleod felt like his legs were going to go from beneath him. The machine kept turning and that cursed black underneath him meant he had to pump his legs lest the track take him off in an embarrassing fall. Around him were the dedicated followers of exercise, all honed and fit and probably laughing their heads off at him. Desperately he managed to grab his water bottle and take a swig on the run. A few minutes later he had had enough.
Taking a seat in the corner - while he was hydrating of course, never from fatigue – he watched his colleague on the cross trainer. She had been sitting in her Lycra outfit with just a fleece on over it when he found her in the hotel lobby that morning. Although a widower after his beloved wife’s death, he chastised himself for staring at the woman without engaging her feelings and emotions. Never would he want to say she was an object. But this morning, maybe because of tiredness and a lack of sleep, he could not help but stare at her legs.
And now he was watching her drive herself to the limit on a cross trainer, hair tied up behind her and her body working hard. Come on, he thought to himself, this is work, not pleasure. Nonchalantly, he scanned the room. There were two men lifting weights, both mid-twenties, and Macleod walked up beside them and lifted up a couple of hand held weights. Slowly he raised his arm on either side.
At first the men shot a glance and then they began to speak to each other again.
“Tragic. She was a gorgeous girl too.”
“Aye and for something like that to happen here too. Total waste.”
“Did she
really know what she was getting herself into?”
Suddenly the conversation slipped into Gaelic and this coincided with a glance at Macleod. He never changed his pattern of weight lifting but instead listened passively, showing no emotion as the fluent Gaelic conversation flowed over him.
“Just be careful. I reckon that guy is the detective come up here.”
“Yeah, Annie said the Glasgow ones were up for this. Still it’s a shame.”
“She certainly had the business. Never short of customers.”
“Yeah and she had the hands. You ever had a massage from her?”
“No, the missus would have killed me, what with her view of the girl. Did you?”
“Yeah. Bloody magic. Think I had her massage me four or five times. Nothing like having a gorgeous girl like that working your muscles. Mind you, she did more than that.”
“So I heard. You ever...”
“No. I didn’t. Would have loved to, she looked a good one. Cracking body and boobs.”
“Yeah, well it caught up with her, I reckon. There’s always jealousy when you’re putting it about.”
“Still, real shame. She looked great dancing on a Saturday and those outfits she wore. I reckon she was advertising for the massage parlour.”
Both men laughed and then went sheepish, possibly remembering the girl was dead.
Macleod had been there for over a half hour and was actually amazed at how little was being said but then most of the fitness fanatics were very self-focused. Maybe he should move to the cafe and see if anyone was talking there. Looking around for McGrath, he saw she had departed and so grabbed his water bottle and returned to his locker.
Having grabbed his wallet from the locker and a towel to put around his neck, Macleod made his way to the cafe where he ordered a coffee and some fruit in a bowl. A dose of yoghurt was added on top and he took his healthy option to a table all the time remembering the good old days when he could just have fry up after fry up. Cholesterol had seen to that.
The tables looked out through windows to the swimming pool and he scanned the water for sign of his colleague. She had mentioned a swim but he could not see her. There were a number of individuals all swimming up and down, putting in their lengths before the day began. Macleod closed his eyes and gave thanks for his food. On opening, he found his eyes drawn to the showering area beside the pool and a figure he found familiar.
Hope was standing with her back to him in a red bikini as she let the water run over her. While not obscene, the bottoms were certainly reaching the limit and as she stepped from foot to foot, Macleod could not help but watch her bottom jiggle. Ashamed he turned away to his food but after a spoonful, he found himself staring again. Hope had turned round now and he drunk in the view as any lonely man would.
Her eyes were closed and a bottle was in her hand. The shampoo was placed into an open hand and then she began to wash her hair, eyes closed. He thought it wrong to stare but he continued, mesmerised. Part of him wanted to say “tart” and then look away disgusted at her. But he couldn’t. His dealings with her so far made him think of her as a decent person, thoughtful and intelligent. Again he returned to the bowl of fruit.
His mind came back to his long departed wife. She had been fun, vociferous, and always keen to push his limits and that of the way of life up here. And he had put a lid on her, grinding her down, never letting her be free. When she went into the water, he knew he had a part to play in it. Some spirits should not be stamped on.
Looking up again, he saw Hope tying up her hair behind her, her full body face on to him. The male animal in him stirred and he felt dirty looking but couldn’t turn away. Even when she looked up and waved, smiling at him, he didn’t have the decency to stop. He watched her all the way to the cubicles.
Macleod closed his eyes and asked for forgiveness. These moments were becoming too numerous. He could not stop himself. Someone might say he needed a good woman beside him again. But he would never take such a free spirit again. Instead he would need a quiet, obedient wife. It sounded bloody awful. He mournfully ate his healthy breakfast thinking about a decent fry and a fun woman to cook one for.
Hope appeared before him, dressed in a pair of blue jeans, a tight fitting crop top and an open blouse over it. Her boots were fashionable but practical.
“Find out anything?” asked Macleod.ng?” a tight fitting crop top and an open bluse over it. Her boots were fas part t play in it.eyes closed. ss fa
“Well she wasn’t the most loved character in the world. I overheard a couple of the women talking about her as if she was the reason that all the good men were turned sour. One even said they were glad she was gone. I got the feeling that a few people knew or thought she was doing extracurricular massaging.”
“I got the feeling it was well known too,” said Macleod “and yet MacDonald acted like it was the most ridiculous revelation ever. It puts a strong thought in my head that whoever killed her did it because of the book and the fact their name was in it. Did you garner anything else?”
“Not really, sir. It was mostly gossip, there was no one talking as if they had first-hand knowledge yet I guess someone here must have.”
“You go and meet our councillor as she should be getting in soon. Don’t let her know we suspect her name being in the book yet, see how it goes first. We also need to see who else is in that book and that may take a bit of deduction and maybe getting someone to look over the book.”
“One thing occurs to me,” said Hope, “If she didn’t confide her extra activities to her boyfriend maybe she did to someone else.”
“Indeed. Good line of thought. But who? We need to keep our eyes open for that.” Macleod’s eyes strayed back to the swimming pool. He watched a woman with auburn hair step into the showers and then make her way into the pool. “You may not have to go far for your interview, McGrath. It appears your councillor likes her early morning swim.”
They both watched the sleek figure swim length after length as they sipped their drinks. The woman seemed to glide with ease through the water, turning in a tumble at each end.
“What age do you think, sir?”
“Mid-forties, although she could be a good looking fifty year old.” He watched the councillor get out of the pool. “She certainly has held her figure but then again woman in the public eye.”
“Or maybe she just looks good. Some people get all the luck. Hope I look that good at her age.”
“Well you’ve certainly made a good start.” It just slipped out and Macleod froze as the words came out. Hope looked somewhat taken aback before a sly grin came across her face. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. Very unprofessional. I was just meaning you have that freshness of youth, that glow.”
“So it’s downhill from here then,” teased Hope.
“No. It was just a simple compliment that came out wrong. I apologise if it caused any offence.”
“If I took offence at that I might as well go home with the comments I get in this job. I think I’ll grab her coming out from the changing rooms see if I can get her off guard. Do you want to join me?”
No,” said Macleod shaking his head, “I’ll go see the manager here. Text me when you’re done. If I’m finished before you, I’ll walk to the station and touch base with the team. I said we’d brief at ten anyway.”
“Okay, I’ll go do my hair at the hair dryers and catch her coming out.”
Macleod watched Hope rise and disappear back towards the entrance to the swimming pool. As she made her way down the corridor he couldn’t help but watch her wiggle. Then he bowed his head and asked for forgiveness again. You need to focus, Macleod, he thought, too many other thoughts coming in.
He drank his coffee and then stood up wondering if the manager would be in. Walking along the corridor he spied a woman at reception and made a bee line for her. Apparently the manager would be another twenty minutes but of course he was welcome to wait. She offered coffee but he declined.
From a chai
r beside the reception, he was able to see through the glass in the doors to the swimming pool. It let everyone see the hair dryers and there were a number of women drying their hair, applying a touch of makeup. There was also a man drying and brushing. Macleod found it hard not to judge for in his day, this sort of preening said something else about the sort of man you were. Probably unfairly. But it was definitely a thing back then, men had their spaces and women their own. These days things seemed to be much more blurred.
He watched Hope brush her hair and realised that she wore hardly any make up, at least none he could tell. He let his eyes focus onto some of the other women but he struggled not to revert back to Hope. In the end he picked up a free paper from the stand next to his chair.
It was the local free ads paper and he saw a story on the front about developments in the harbour. Flicking on through, he saw school news, new restaurants, a review on some album by a band he had not heard of and a recipe for a sponge cake. And a lot of adverts.
Macleod had an eye for detail amidst a lot of words and he quickly spotted the advert for massage therapies. It was simple and clean, and looked like any other advert there. His attention was diverted for a few seconds as he caught Hope walking out of the front entrance with the councillor before he put his head back in the paper.
There was a brief article about Sunday opening deep inside the paper. It was nothing controversial, a simple piece explaining the views of a religious organisation, after all a free ads paper was not going to behave like the scandal rags with these issues. But it reminded him of his time here, when Sunday was a blessed day. Church morning and night, a day of peace unless he was working. Glasgow was not like that, always on the go. He missed that peace now he was in the hurly-burly of city life. But she would have loved Glasgow. Island life drove her insane. Maybe island life had killed her. Actually, there was no maybe.
