by Lin Anderson
‘I’ll send you the photos and you can take a look yourself.’
‘Thanks,’ he said and rang off. He stood for a moment, a cold draught shrivelling his balls. He glanced at the bedroom door. What the hell was he thinking inviting Iona back? Rhona had known when she’d challenged him who he was in bed with – a lassie half his age.
He couldn’t chuck Iona out now, not after what they’d just done, but he had no desire to climb back into bed with her. McNab fetched a sleeping bag from the hall cupboard and settled down on the couch. Tomorrow Iona would leave, and for good this time.
Rhona threw the mobile on the bed. The tranquillity of her surroundings had dissipated, her irritation at McNab replacing it. She knew he was worried by his new position, even threatened by it. It was okay to be a maverick DS when you had the wise counsel and guidance of a DI like Bill Wilson, always supportive, always on your side. But Bill was no longer there, and there would be plenty who would be watching and waiting for McNab to screw up. Including herself.
She took out her laptop and sent a selection of her images to McNab’s official email address, then went to the window and looked out. The wind had dropped, and the sky, no longer full of angry clouds, was bright with a midnight sun. Sounds of Magnus moving about below were followed by the back door opening. Rhona watched as he emerged, bottle and glass in hand, to sit on the jetty. She recalled sitting there with him on the previous occasion, admiring the outline of Hoy against a similar sky.
Rhona abandoned her dark thoughts and the possibility of sleep, and went out to join him.
As she emerged, Magnus looked surprised and pleased.
‘Can’t sleep?’
‘It’s as light as morning.’
She settled herself on the wall, while Magnus fetched her a glass. Watching as he poured, she found herself anticipating the sweet, cloudy taste. Her promise to avoid too much home brew seemed to be evaporating.
‘Did you manage to contact McNab?’
‘I did, and he wasn’t happy about the possible connection.’
‘This is his first murder enquiry as DI?’
When Rhona indicated it was, Magnus looked sympathetic. ‘A straightforward gangland murder would be easier to deal with.’
‘McNab never likes things straightforward or easy,’ Rhona reminded him.
Magnus gave her a wry smile. ‘Nor does he like the involvement of criminal profilers.’
‘He may have to, if it turns out the murders are connected.’ Rhona was silent for a moment. ‘The body with the stone marked with a five was found inside a Neolithic ring of five stones. Chrissy immediately pounced on the significance of that. Now we have a body identified by a four, but in a much larger stone circle. Can you think of any connection between the two sites other than they’re Neolithic?’
‘Nothing immediately springs to mind, but I can check with my learned friends digging at the Ness of Brodgar.’
‘How many stones circles are there around Scotland?’ she asked, anticipating the answer before he gave it.
‘A great many more than five.’
16
‘Coffee and toast or would you prefer something cooked?’ Magnus offered when Rhona appeared at the kitchen door next morning.
‘Coffee’s fine.’
The home brew had left her unscathed, proving Magnus’s claim that with no additives it was unlikely to cause a hangover. He poured her a mug and pushed some buttered toast towards her. Rhona, not used to food first thing, regarded it with suspicion.
‘I’ll have something after the meeting.’
She carried her coffee onto the jetty and went back to her spot of the previous night. The water was calm, the sky clear. The wind for which Orkney was famous had dissipated, making it difficult to recall the squall which had attacked the tent while she’d taken her forensic samples.
Magnus followed her out.
‘I’ve been considering the positioning of the body,’ he said. ‘Do you want to take a look?’
He led her into the dining room where a map of Scotland, including the Orkney Islands, had been spread out on the table.
‘A line directionally south runs close to the ring on Cathkin Braes.’ He pointed to a marker. ‘That’s your Neolithic circle of five stones.’
He indicated a line drawn from the Ring of Brodgar heading southeast. ‘This one slices off a triangle just north of Aberdeen. Nothing significant on that line, as far as I know. However, the western one hits land here.’ He pointed to the Outer Hebrides. ‘Close to another major stone circle, Callanish, on the Isle of Lewis.’
Rhona challenged him with a look. ‘You’re assuming the direction of the arms is significant. What if the positioning of the body is more about supplication than direction?’
‘You’re right.’ Magnus glanced at his watch. ‘We’d better head for Kirkwall.’
They passed the journey in silence, each deep in thought. It was easy to let your imagination run wild when faced with the phenomenon of similar deaths in such strange surroundings. But just because both deaths involved Neolithic sites needn’t mean McNab’s theory wasn’t right and that the deaths weren’t drugs related.
Erling was waiting for them in the incident room. Rhona nodded to Dougie and Simon as she took her seat. R2S had set up an interactive screen to show the assembled team what had been captured at the deposition site.
Dougie ran them through the 360-degree images of the crime scene and then of the wider area. Close-ups on the body from a variety of angles as well as from above simply reinforced the fact that the victim had been very carefully positioned.
At the end of the presentation, Erling asked Professor Magnus Pirie to come forward and present his thoughts.
It was obvious from the smiles of acknowledgement from the local force members that Magnus was well known. The R2S boys were also aware who he was. That only left those drafted in from the mainland, who observed Magnus approach the front of the room with interest.
His tall figure looked impressive, his manner serious. Rhona recognized the concentration and remembered the first time she’d observed him in action. She’d had reservations about using a criminal profiler. They all had, McNab the most. Magnus had screwed up on his first case, putting more than himself in danger. Two young women had died during the investigation. Their deaths had marked Magnus. They had marked Rhona too, because of her own involvement in the case.
Magnus glanced briefly in Rhona’s direction before addressing the assembled company.
‘The location chosen by an organized killer – and I believe the perpetrator to be organized – is as important as the modus operandi. We don’t know yet how exactly the victim died. However, the signature of the killer is the most important aspect of all, and the two, MO and signature, are not the same. In this case the manner used to display the victim – the impaled hands, the arranging of the body and the stone placed in her mouth – constitute a signature.’ Here he paused. ‘One which had already been seen forty-eight hours previously in Glasgow.’ There was surprise at this revelation. Magnus indicated to Erling that they should hear from Rhona.
At Erling’s invitation, Rhona rose and joined Magnus at the front. She described the last forty-eight hours, and the similarities and differences between the two crime scenes.
The Orkney team was agog now. The thought that the killer might be local had shocked them. The suggestion that the death might be linked to Glasgow was easier to deal with.
A young DC with weather-beaten cheeks asked the first question.
‘Did the Glasgow stone have a number on it?’
‘Yes,’ Rhona said. ‘A five.’
That gave them all food for thought. It wasn’t long before someone asked, ‘Does that mean we can expect three more?’
A shocked ripple went through the group.
‘We have no idea what the numbers mean. Or how exactly either victim died. Or why both bodies were laid out as they were,’ Rhona said truthfully.
Erling t
ook over then, thanking them both for their contributions.
‘Our first job is to identify the Orkney victim. It seems increasingly unlikely she’s local. I need to know who she is and when she arrived on the island.’ He began to hand out tasks. Magnus and Rhona departed, their contribution over.
‘Ready for food now?’ Magnus said.
‘Definitely.’
‘We’ll leave the car here and head for the main street.’
Minutes later they were seated in a cafe within sight of St Magnus Cathedral. As they waited for the bacon rolls to arrive, Rhona asked why Magnus hadn’t mentioned his Callanish theory.
‘I spoke to Dougie. He’s going to plot it out accurately first.’ He hesitated. ‘I asked if he’d do the same for the Cathkin case. Is that all right?’
‘McNab won’t like it either way.’
‘Are you and he …?’ Magnus began.
‘McNab and I have never been together,’ she said honestly.
‘But I thought after the Russian trial …?’ Magnus ground to an embarrassed halt again.
‘I thought McNab was dead. We all did. Then he rose from the grave.’ She smiled. ‘McNab appreciated my joy at his resurrection. As you would expect.’ Rhona changed the subject. ‘The postmortem’s in Inverness later today. I’m going to hitch a lift with R2S. After that I’ll head back to Glasgow.’ She paused. ‘I assume you’re here for the summer?’
Magnus indicated he was. ‘Although I’m happy to come south if required.’
‘I’ll see if we can both have access to the crime-scene software. That way you can see how we’re progressing.’ Her mobile rang. She glanced at the screen to find Chrissy’s name.
‘Any word on the QT test?’ Rhona immediately asked.
‘Nothing so far. When are you back?’
‘Later today.’ Rhona explained about the Inverness trip.
‘Will Magnus be with you?’ Chrissy said sweetly.
‘No.’
‘Pity.’
Rhona rang off to find Magnus regarding her quizzically.
‘We’re awaiting the results on Long QT Syndrome. You probably know it as sudden adult death.’
‘Where young sports people suddenly collapse and die in dressing rooms?’
She nodded. ‘A genetic abnormality of the heart where the time taken to recharge the electrical system after each heartbeat is longer than normal. The heart doesn’t pump oxygen, the brain is deprived and the person loses consciousness and dies,’ she continued. ‘The condition often manifests itself in pre-teens or teenagers. Our victim was nineteen. High emotion or stress can trigger an attack.’
‘He died of fright?’
‘Fear may have been a contributing factor.’ Rhona hesitated, knowing this was the moment she should mention what had happened to Alan’s mother. ‘There’s another reason McNab should involve you.’
‘Really, what?’
Magnus listened intently as Rhona explained what had happened at the spiritualist church service.
‘And no one knew of Alan’s death before this happened?’
‘Apart from whoever chopped off his hands, no,’ Rhona said.
‘That’s fascinating.’
‘McNab doesn’t think so.’
‘I’d like to speak to the medium,’ Magnus said.
‘Let me work on McNab first.’
‘Okay,’ he conceded.
They made their way back to the car. Rhona had arranged to meet R2S at the field next to Brodgar at 2 p.m., from where the helicopter would take them to Raigmore Hospital. She didn’t relish another helicopter ride. In fact, two more rides. But her curiosity was greater than her fear.
Magnus gave her a warm embrace and a peck on the cheek as they said goodbye.
‘Give Chrissy my love.’
‘That would only encourage her,’ Rhona told him.
‘Let me know what happens?’
‘I will.’ She lifted her bags and made her way across the grass, wet from last night’s rain. The cordons round the Ring were still in place and the hillside was dotted with white-suited personnel combing the area, but the tent had gone.
Rhona dipped her head under the blades of the helicopter and, with a helping hand, climbed aboard. Dougie was already inside. Noise made conversation difficult but he indicated he would be attending the postmortem with a view to constructing a body map of the victim with the pathologist, Dr Emily Sinclair.
They rose, hovering briefly above the field. From here the circle of stones was a manageable size. Its close connection via the Ness of Brodgar to the Stones of Stenness and, in the near distance, the hump of Maeshowe, was clearly visible.
Then they were heading towards the stormy strip of water between the islands and mainland Scotland.
17
Magnus turned away as the helicopter swept over the dark hump of Hoy and disappeared. He had been right to contact Rhona. The cases were too similar in signature not to be connected. However, that didn’t mean drugs weren’t involved or that they weren’t the prime reason for the killings. Gangs often used signature methods of dispensing with those who stepped out of line. Although, he reminded himself, they rarely chose Neolithic sites to do so.
On that thought, Magnus made the decision to go back to the dig and seek out Jack Louden. If Jack had discovered contact details for the local pusher, he was unlikely to supply them via his mobile.
Clear skies had brought out the excavation team. The trenches were alive with volunteers, small trowels carefully brushing soil away from history. Magnus was in awe of their dedication in what was definitely back-breaking work. He found Jack directing operations in the northern area, closest to Brodgar.
Jack suggested Magnus go and put the kettle on, he would be along shortly.
The common room was empty. Magnus located the kettle, filled it and set it to boil, then checked for clean mugs, of which there were none. He chose a couple from the table and washed them at the sink under cold water. Locating an open carton of milk, he sniffed it, and decided it was fresh enough.
He spooned instant coffee into the now-clean mugs, noting that the scent of cannabis in the room had dissipated. Magnus wondered if news of his request had frightened the smokers away.
There was a row of hooks near the door, hung with coats, jackets and waterproof trousers. Beneath stood a row of muddy boots and backpacks. Magnus thought again of the boots the victim had been wearing, the casual clothes, the dirt under her nails. He went closer, trying to pick up the scent of cannabis from the clothes. Smokers never realized just how obvious their habit was, especially to someone with a strong sense of smell. However, the clothes smelt predominantly of damp peat and heather.
Jack entered to end his investigation.
‘I was planning on giving you a call.’ He poured boiling water into the mugs and the scent of coffee filled the air. ‘Milk?’
Magnus shook his head.
Jack spurned the milk too, but added two heaped spoonfuls of sugar from a battered packet.
After stirring and tasting, he sat down opposite Magnus, withdrew a piece of paper from his pocket and pushed it across the table.
Magnus glanced down to find a mobile number.
‘When you call, just say “Tanya”.’
‘Who’s Tanya?’
‘No idea.’
Magnus pocketed the paper. ‘Can I ask who gave you this number?’
‘You can ask, but I won’t tell.’ Jack scrutinized him. ‘And I don’t want the police involved. I don’t want anyone here getting into trouble. Okay?’
Magnus indicated he understood, despite feeling uncomfortable about such a promise. If he found out anything that might help in the murder investigation, he was obliged to inform the police. He let that go, for the moment.
‘I’d like to ask you an archaeological question, but whatever we discuss has to stay between us.’
Jack looked interested. ‘Fire away.’
Magnus briefly described both crime scenes, includi
ng the careful layout of the bodies and the stones placed in the mouths.
This was obviously news to Jack. Intriguing news.
‘And you thought it might be a re-enactment of a Neolithic ritual?’ he guessed.
Magnus nodded.
Jack looked thoughtful. ‘We’re pretty sure the Ness buildings we’re excavating offered a ritual passageway from life at the Stenness site to death at Brodgar. So the body is in the correct Neolithic location for death.’ He paused. ‘I’m not familiar with the Glasgow site. Can I think about this and get back to you?’
‘Of course.’
Jack finished his coffee. ‘I’d better encourage the troops while the weather’s good.’ He abandoned the mug with the battalion of others. ‘Fancy a pint in Stromness later?’
They arranged to meet at the Stromness Hotel around nine. Magnus hoped by then he would have met his mobile contact. He waited until Jack had gone back to the trenches, then headed outside to make the call. The mobile rang out three times before it was answered.
‘Tanya?’ Magnus said, following Jack’s instructions.
A female voice with a faint Orcadian accent said she would get back to him, then rang off. When he tried again, the call went unanswered. Defeated and disappointed, Magnus made his way back to the car. He wondered about contacting Erling to see if there had been any new developments, but had to accept that Erling too would be in touch when, or if, it was necessary.
The drive home should have lifted his spirits. The sun shone on Scapa Flow and the wind had dropped to a whisper. The midsummer light was playing its usual tricks with the landscape, giving the impression that the shimmering island of Hoy was floating on top of the waters of the Flow. Magnus had seen such a mirage before, but then he had been on Raasay looking towards the Cuillins of Skye.
When he reached home and opened the front door, he was immediately aware someone had been in the house. The scent was female, possibly perfume, perhaps soap or deodorant. He entered quietly and followed the scent, coming to the conclusion that the visitor had been in all the downstairs rooms but hadn’t ventured upstairs. Since he rarely locked up, it wasn’t unusual to get a visitor when out, usually one of his neighbours from the other houses that lined the bay, but this scent wasn’t one he was familiar with.
