Dark of Night

by Oliver Davies

  No designated leader then, and no attached professor on site, so we’d need to organise this ourselves. I looked around the shelter and spotted a few folding camp chairs stacked under one of the tables. “Miss Kerr, can you give Caitlin a list of everyone’s names while we get set up?” then, addressing the rest of them, “And could some of you get those chairs out please?” Martin and Katie were at the back of the group and were quick to do so, passing them out to two of the others to take. “Can we have three of them set up in that far corner and the rest over here please?”

  It wasn’t ideal, but if we kept our voices down, I didn’t think any of them would have much chance of prepping their answers from responses already given. There were only seven chairs altogether, so the rest would have to stand around or prop themselves against a table until we’d whittled the numbers down. I had them move the nearest one closer and looked to Caitlin, who gave me a nod. We had our list.

  “We’ll be as quick as we can about this,” I told them, “but I want to thank you all in advance for your patience and cooperation. When your name is called, please come over and join Sergeant Murray and me over there.” I pointed. “If you do not have the keys to your campers when you are called, take them from the person who does. After speaking with us, head straight back up to the camp, without speaking to anyone who’s still waiting their turn and get yourselves a hot drink or something. Until you are called, perhaps you could entertain yourselves by quizzing Miguel here about his past permaculture experiences or just talking among yourselves.” I turned back to Jessica. “Thank you for your assistance today Miss Kerr, but we don’t need to keep you any longer… unless you need a lift back to the house?”

  “No, not at all, thank you, Inspector. I’ll just borrow Katie’s keys and wait in her van. I want a chat with her about our papers before I go, and I can easily walk home after. I’ve been making the trip quite regularly lately. It’s only a few minutes.” She went over to get the van keys from Katie and then left.

  Caitlin and I rearranged our cluster of three chairs, over in the far corner, and Caitlin pulled her small recording device from one of her spacious jacket pockets and placed it on her lap. Once she was ready, I called Katie over, seeing her first because of Jessica’s stated plans. I gave her a reassuring smile as she settled herself in the empty camp chair in front of us, with its back to the rest of the group who clustered together, talking at a good, combined level of volume about twenty-five feet away, which was as far as I could space us. Katie looked a little nervous at being the sudden focus of my undivided attention. I leaned towards her.

  “Don’t worry, Katie, I don’t bite,” I assured her in a low, friendly voice. She grinned, unable to resist the opening.

  “At work, you mean?” At least she had picked up on the reminder to speak quietly. A cheeky, confident girl, this one. I leaned back again and glanced at the list Caitlin had given me - Katie Watkins.

  “My apologies, Miss Watkins, for the uninvited informality. I meant only to reassure you that you have nothing to fear from my colleague and me here today.” I kept my tone pleasant, but I’d got my point across.

  “What did you want to ask me, Inspector?” she asked, a bit abashed now, but no longer nervous.

  “Can you tell me if anyone has been at the camp lately? Apart from those who are here today?”

  She considered it for a moment. “A couple of boys from the permaculture project class went back down to Edinburgh last Saturday, after Paul and Lindsay arrived to replace them. They spell each other, so they all get a week each in regularly. There’s more than a dozen of them working on it for their class project at the Agricultural College.” She paused, thinking, before adding, “And Martin’s girlfriend has popped round a few times, she’s a local girl.”

  “Anyone else? Say, in the last two weeks?”

  “Well, the two who were here the week before last, Daniel and Matthew. Miguel keeps a roster and everyone’s details, in case there’s an accident or something, so you could ask him to show you those. Oh, and one of Jessica’s detectorists popped by looking for her, about a week ago, but he only stayed a few minutes.”

  “Detectorists?” I asked her. Nobody had mentioned anything about them yet.

  “Yes, she had a couple of them checking around the old tower, back in January, the one stuck onto the manor house.” she waved an arm in the direction indicated, “They contacted her about some old letter they’d come across and were quite excited about - wanted permission to search around by there.” A slightly amused look came back into her eyes at that point. “They’d got it into their heads that there might be something valuable buried there.” she almost sniggered at the idea but managed to rein it in, “So, Jessica asked her uncle if it would be alright, then invited them over to have a look. Horrible weather for it, but they didn’t seem to mind.” Her remarkably expressive face made it quite clear how daft she thought that was. “They didn’t have any luck, though.” An unsurprised eye roll. “I know they were down there a few more times after, on weekends, because they’d asked Douglas if they could check some other parts of the estate over and he said yes, but only when Jessica was happy to accompany them around.” Jessica, apparently, deserved a medal for playing along. “They didn’t find anything but some loose change and bits of junk, and none of us had seen either of them since the middle of February, until that quick visit last week, looking for Jessica.”

  We’d need to ask the Kerrs about those visits and then, probably, need to go and talk to the two detectorists. Next, I asked Katie about the Sunday that two lads had gone onto Ramsay’s farm, but she’d gone home for the week, only got back here late on Monday morning, and didn’t know who might have gone wandering off that day.

  “What about yesterday evening? Can you tell me where everyone was, between five and ten in the evening?” She thought about it.

  “Miguel, Paul and Lindsay all went off to a pub they like, a couple of miles east of here, The Bonny Ewe,” she told us. “They all left at around seven, and I was asleep before they came back. Martin and Stephen went over to Martin’s girlfriend’s house a bit before that, and I think they might have slept over. Stewart was with Debbie and me from lunch until about half ten. We’re all working on our MA’s in history, like Jessica. They’re letting us attend some of our classes virtually this term, as an experiment. Stewart likes to help the others down at the project sometimes, like today, but Debbie and I leave them all to it. It’s not really our thing, and I don’t know how Stewart finds time, really. He’s interested in organic farming and permaculture and things like that. Anyway, yesterday, the three of us came back up from the house together, just after four and we all worked on our essay assignments in my van until dinner, then watched a film on my laptop. Stewart went back to his van, and Debbie and I went to bed. Abby was having dinner down at the house with Jessica and her uncle. He’s such a dear! He’s like a character from a period stage play, isn’t he? Abby went down there at about six—Jessica lets us shower and change in her room beforehand, if we’ve been invited down for dinner.”

  I thanked Katie and sent her off. I couldn’t help liking her, and she hadn’t given me the impression that she was being anything but as honest and helpful as she could be. Caitlin and I had a few words, agreeing on our running order for the rest of them, and she made an approving comment about the way I’d handled that potentially awkward little hiccup at the start of the interview.

  We ran our way through the rest of the list, asking the same questions, with our one new addition, for each of the group. Several of them remembered the detectorist’s visit, and we had been able to place that as happening last Thursday, after lunch. I was also interested to discover that Martin and Stephen were the odd pair out of the group. They’d both finished their bachelor’s degrees and were taking a ‘gap year’ and ‘enjoying the experience.’ Yes, well, we could smell that, although neither of them had seemed currently under the influence. I didn’t care about people smoking a bit of pot,
only about people selling enormous quantities of the stuff, because that’s where the violent crime elements came in. Those two lads were friends of Paul’s who had volunteered to come and help out for a few months.

  That gave me two unemployed graduates with, possibly, student loans to pay off. They hadn’t struck me as the privileged offspring of parents who were happy to pay for everything. I’d have Shay check them out a little beyond the usual criminal records check that the whole group would be subjected to. One of my junior DCs could handle that task.

  We left Miguel for last. He’d been happily listening to something on his earbuds, keeping time with head nods and foot taps, while we conducted the penultimate interview. We got Miguel settled in, beaming at us cheerfully, and I was careful to ask my questions as simply and clearly as possible.

  He was a bouncy, excitable fellow, and came across as a young man inclined to see everyone he met in the best possible light. He confirmed what everyone else had already told us about his whereabouts the night before, at The Bonny Ewe, and who he had been with. He knew that Abby was dining with the Kerrs but not what the others had been doing. What he could remember of Sunday the 4th gave us some more times and locations of encounters with different members of the group but his account of what he could remember was as patchy as all the others had been. There had been only five of them here that day; the other four, including Katie, had all been away. I was hoping that when the pieces we had been given by the five who had been here were cross-checked, we’d have a good idea of which two had gone missing for long enough that afternoon to have had their encounter with Gareth Ramsay… if any of them had.

  Because, by then, I was also thinking that maybe Gareth had been mistaken in believing his trespassers were from the camp. He wouldn’t have known them all by sight. He could even have been deliberately misled.

  We walked back up through the persistent light rain with Miguel, and he insisted we go in and sit down while he got us the information that we’d asked him for; the names, contact numbers and addresses of everyone who’d worked on the permaculture project. He made us an aromatic, fruity tea, with organic honey as an optional added sweetener. Caitlin added a spoonful to hers, and we sipped at our drinks and made admiring comments about the way he’d fitted out his van, while he booted up his laptop and copied the records we’d asked for into a new folder for us. Caitlin handed him a flash drive to transfer it to.

  Miguel’s van was a superior conversion job, with all sorts of foldaway furniture features, almost as cleverly designed as Shay’s, but not as well-crafted or lovingly finished. Like my cousin, he’d also added solar panelling strips to his roof. His interior was more spacious, so perhaps less ingenuity had been required in planning it out. The full height corner cabinet for the composting toilet looked a bit more comfortably sized, but I wasn’t planning to go anywhere near the thing. Those were for emergencies only, as far as I was concerned. I wondered if any of the others here had done such a good job with their vans, or paid someone else enough to do so, but suspected this one would be the cream of the crop. We’d gathered that this was Miguel’s only residence for months at a time as he bounced around Europe, so naturally, he needed to be happy with it.

  In the car, afterwards, Caitlin and I agreed that we’d both like to head straight for the Bonny Ewe to check the times of our three’s arrival and departure the night before. It was close by, and we both wanted a toilet stop, before we headed back to town. It was just after four-thirty by then. On the way there, I called the Kerr house, and Martha got Douglas onto the line for me.

  “Hello, Inspector,” he said as he picked up. “I hope the young people were able to help you. Jessica told me you’d got yourselves sorted out up there.”

  “Yes, they were all very good,” I assured him. “But something was mentioned that I wanted to ask you about. I gather you’ve had a pair of detectorist hobbyists popping in and hunting around the estate since January?”

  “That’s right,” he agreed, “but they haven’t been around for four or five weeks now. It didn’t occur to me that you’d have any reason to be interested in their visits.” He made that last line sound rather apologetic, as if he’d been remiss.

  “Quite rightly, Mr Kerr,” I hastened to assure him. “At the moment, we’re only interested in talking to people who’ve been on your estate, or at the Ramsay farm, more recently… but apparently one of them stopped up at the camp last Thursday, looking for your niece. A few of the group were able to confirm that.”

  “Really? That’s odd. They always called before, to arrange a day she had some time to take them around. She hasn’t mentioned hearing from them lately. I’d get her on for you to speak with now, but she’s gone into town to see an old friend and will only be back after dinner.” A slight pause and then, tentatively, he added, “I don’t suppose that you and Sergeant Murray would care to stop by for a spot of lunch with us tomorrow? My factor is arranging everything for your people at the nearest empty cottage, to start at ten, tomorrow morning, so perhaps you could pop in on them after speaking with Jessica over lunch?” That was a tempting offer, given the standard of Martha’s cooking that we had already been exposed to. “I know you’ll be dashing about and may have to cancel if something more urgent crops up, but you will have to stop to eat at some point Inspector.” Douglas added, very reasonably, “So it could even save you a little time.” I decided that it would not be at all improper, now he’d put it like that.

  “That’s a very kind offer, Mr Kerr. We’d be delighted, circumstances allowing. We’re allowed thirty minutes to stop and eat.”

  “Splendid! We will expect you at twelve-thirty then, unless we hear otherwise.” We exchanged polite goodbyes, and I ended the call just as Caitlin was pulling us in outside The Bonny Ewe.

  Ten

  Caitlin

  The landlord was out when we stopped by at the Bonny Ewe pub, but two of the bar staff had been working when Miguel’s group had arrived there the evening before. They both confirmed the approximate time of arrival, and that it had been after ten by the time the three of them left. The two ladies we spoke with, consecutively, told us that Miguel and some of the others popped in there quite often, and it was clear that they thought of him as a nice, polite young man, a bit foreign and excitable in his ways, but ever so friendly. They were both middle-aged, motherly types and their ‘exotic’, new regular had clearly charmed the socks off the pair of them.

  I got it. He was a good-looking young man, although of a kind I didn’t find in the least attractive. He was a bit too pretty and a bit too kooky for me, really. When we’d followed Jessica Kerr into the shelter they’d had set up down at the plots, he’d given me such a warm, interested smile that I’d thought he’d liked the look of me at first, to tell the truth, until I saw him turn exactly the same expression on Conall. No, the genial little ‘alternative lifestyle’ guru struck me as the kind of guy who just genuinely enjoyed meeting new people. It was impossible to read the signs with someone like that.

  Of course, as soon as we walked into the Ewe, Conall had spotted the shiny coffee machine sitting behind the bar. Once we’d finished questioning the bartenders, he ordered himself a double espresso before heading off for the gents. I was bursting by then too, so I went the other way to nip in the ladies’ room, which was spotlessly clean, nicely decorated and had toilets that flushed. I was feeling a freshly reinforced appreciation of modern plumbing just then.

  I never went on camping or caravanning trips. How could anyone call either of those a nice holiday? They were far too much work and full of far too many discomforts to be enjoyable or relaxing. When I went away on holiday, I wanted to slob out in the sun and enjoy myself, not spend time cooking and clearing up, or performing any other tiresome chores. A comfy bed in a nice room, with its own proper bathroom, a swimming pool, a couple of bars at the hotel, lots of good restaurants nearby—that was a holiday! I didn’t know how those students could stand even a week at a time living in those campe
rs.

  By the time I went back out into the bar, Conall had already finished his tiny coffee, probably in two quick gulps. He never sipped at them like you’re supposed to. His mouth must be lined with some kind of special, heat-resistant tissue. He gave me a nod, all done here, and we headed for the door. I threw him the keys as we headed back out to the car, his turn again. He pulled out smoothly, once we were settled in, and headed us back towards Inverness. We were both good drivers, and he’d never made any kind of a fuss about who got to take the wheel, so we tended to switch places a lot, especially if one of us was visibly flagging or needed to make some calls.

  “Douglas Kerr invited us for lunch tomorrow, circumstances permitting,” he told me, the other side of the conversation he’d had on the phone before we’d got to the pub. “At half twelve. He said Jessica had gone into town for dinner with a friend and she hadn’t said anything to him about the detectorist chap looking for her. We’ll talk to her while we’re there. The factor’s organised everything for the staff interviews to start at ten. I thought DC Walker could take the lead on those and pick which one of the others to take along.” There was a slight, questioning sound to that last bit, fishing for my opinion. Conall currently had four DCs in his team.

  “Sounds good,” I told him, meaning both the lunch and the idea of putting Mary Walker on handling the interviews. She could cope with the responsibility of running them, without needing full-time supervision, by now. Conall was shepherding her along towards her sergeant’s exam as rapidly as seemed wise, and he was proving what a great mentor he could be. “We could even pop in to see how they’re getting on after lunch,” I added. “Listen to the interviews they’ve already recorded and see if we want any of the staff back in. Just in case she’s failed to follow something up that we want more clarification on.”