‘Bakers?’
‘Aye, it’s a nightclub.’
‘And this club,’ said Munro, ‘does it have a reputation for trouble?’
‘Actually no. It draws a decent crowd, generally well-behaved. We figured Miss Jackson had probably been enjoying herself a bit too much, if you know what I mean.’
‘So, what’s the story? Did somebody report her as drunk and disorderly?’
‘No, no,’ said Ryan, ‘nothing like that. We had a report of a disturbance as the club was kicking out.’
‘A brawl?’
‘Not quite. Seems some fella was trying to bundle off a couple of lassies into the back of his motor. One ran off but a witness says the other one got in. She assumed it was her boyfriend, or a taxi.’
‘And was it a taxi?’
‘No, we’ve checked. It’s silver Vauxhall Insignia, privately owned. We’ve run the index through the DVLA and the lads are on it now.’
‘And this girl, the one who jumped in, did you get a description?’
‘We did,’ said Ryan, ‘but it’s vague. Black jeans. Denim jacket.’
‘And the one who ran off?’
‘That was Miss Jackson.’
Munro clasped his hands behind his back, walked slowly to the cell and took another peek at Sophie before returning to Ryan.
‘And the doctor,’ he said. ‘He’s given her the all-clear?’
‘Sorry?’
‘The medical examiner. Are you telling me she’s not been checked over?’
‘No, I mean, at least I don’t…’
‘Get him now, you blithering fool! If she’s been assaulted or drugged, you’re wasting valuable time!’
‘Sir.’
‘And open the blasted door, I need to speak with her. Now!’
* * *
Munro gently closed the door behind him, unzipped his jacket and squatted beside the bed.
‘Sophie,’ he said, almost whispering. ‘Sophie, it’s James, from up the way. Can you hear me?’
Sophie, as if roused from a pleasant dream, opened her eyes, blinked as she tried to focus, and smiled.
‘Hello, Mr Munro,’ she said. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘Och, I was just passing, thought I’d pop in. How are you feeling?’
‘Tired. My head’s mince.’
‘I’m not surprised. That was some night you had from what I hear.’
‘That’s what worries me,’ said Sophie, her docile expression turning to one of angst. ‘I’m not one for the drink, Mr Munro, you know that.’
‘I do indeed. Listen, if you’re up to talking we can have a wee chat, if not, I’ll leave you be and come back later.’
‘No, you’re alright,’ said Sophie, sitting up. ‘It might help.’
‘Good girl. So, first things first, are you needing anything? Some water? A cup of tea? Something to eat perhaps?’
‘No. I’m fine.’
‘Okey-dokey,’ said Munro, ‘in that case, let’s crack on. Now, here’s the thing, once we’re done here, I’ve asked a doctor to come by and give you the once over, just to make sure you didnae take a wee bump to the head. He’ll also take a blood sample, are you okay with that?’
‘Aye, I suppose so, but why does he need a blood sample?’
‘Nothing to worry about, it’s just a precaution. Now then, obviously you didnae have anything to drink last night?’
‘No, just orange juice.’
‘And you were feeling…?’
‘Aye, I was feeling okay, I think. Then we had one more drink before we left.’
‘We?’
‘Me and Jess.’
‘And then?’
‘That’s just it,’ said Sophie. ‘There is no then. The next thing I remember is waking up here. I’m scared, Mr Munro, did I do something wrong? Have they arrested me? Because if they have…’
‘Calm down,’ said Munro, raising his hand with a reassuring smile, ‘you’ve not been arrested and you’ve done nothing wrong. We just need to find out happened.’
‘What about Jess?’
‘Och, she’s probably home, tucked up in bed. Look, I’ll give her folks a wee call in a moment, then I’ll telephone your father and let him know we’re on our way. Just a couple of more questions first. Tell me, you and Jess, did you happen to meet any lads along the way?’
‘No. Not that I recall.’
‘So, nobody tried to chat you up or offer to buy you a drink?’
Sophie shook her head and frowned.
‘No,’ she said. ‘I think Jess was chatting to someone when we left but I’m really not sure.’
‘Dinnae worry. Okay, last question, your father says that you and Jess were off to see a band at the Palace Theatre. Did you not go?’
Sophie, her cheeks flushing, bowed her head.
‘No,’ she said shamefully. ‘I’m so sorry, Mr Munro, really I am. Jess made it up, she said it would be a good cover for me. Her mum’s not bothered what she does but if my Dad…’
‘It’s not worth fretting about,’ said Munro. ‘Let’s just say, least said, soonest mended.’
Munro gently closed the door and beckoned the doctor to one side.
‘Take a blood sample,’ he said as he handed him a business card. ‘I need you to check for Benzodiazepines as quick as you can. Send the results here for the attention of DI West, and this is my number on the back. You’re to call me as soon as you have the results. Do I make myself clear?’
Chapter 5
Being battered by a cyclonic westerly blowing a gale force nine was, for the crew of the Caledonian Isles, just another day at the office but for Duncan – who’d earned his sea legs aboard a pedalo on the placid waters of a boating lake in Girvan – it was a test of faith over endurance.
Keen to avoid the view from the window, which changed rhythmically from that of a leaden sky to a harrowing scene of six-foot swells, he sat cowering in his seat as the ferry pitched and yawed its way doggedly across the Firth of Clyde before finally lumbering into port forty-five minutes later than scheduled and spilling its cargo of pasty-faced passengers onto the dockside, each keen to sample the delights of Brodick’s nearest pub as a matter of some urgency.
Assuming his bravado had jumped ship shortly after leaving the mainland, West – smirking slyly at his malaise – fired up the Land Rover and sped towards the hotel keen to interview the friends of Ella MacCall as soon as possible, thereby leaving the rest of the evening free to fill her face over a glass or two of Arran’s Lochranza Reserve.
Set in seven acres of mature woodland with all the charm of a Victorian manor house, The Ormidale Hotel – despite the inclement weather – was full to overflowing with locals sniggering into their pints at the tourists’ inability to cope with a wee breeze and a flurry or two.
Kelly Baxter, as affable as ever, took one look at Duncan, poured a glass of tonic water, and slid it across the bar with a couple of aspirin.
‘Something you ate?’ she said, winking at West.
‘Aye,’ said Duncan. ‘More than likely. We’ve a couple of rooms in the name of West.’
‘Detective Inspector West?’
‘That’s us.’
‘So, it’s Bobby you’ll be wanting?’
‘Constable Mackenzie?’
‘He’s waiting for you out the back, it’s a nice wee room so you’ll have plenty of privacy.’
‘And the girls?’ said West.
‘They’re upstairs.’
‘Any idea when they’re leaving?’
‘Tomorrow morning,’ said Baxter. ‘Their ferry leaves just after eleven o’clock, assuming the weather doesn’t take a turn for the worse.’
West spun on her heels as a customer snatched a plate from the bar loaded with a homemade steak and kidney pie and vanished into the crowd.
‘Tell you what,’ she said, ‘there’s nothing like a boat trip to work up an appetite.’
‘If you say so,’ said Duncan.
‘Oh, come on
, if it was all plain sailing, it wouldn’t be fun, would it? It wasn’t that bad, just a bit choppy, that’s all.’
‘No offence, miss, but I’ve been held captive for half an hour by a madwoman behind the wheel of a car with no heating and dodgy wipers who obviously passed her test at a demolition derby, then, after twenty years of being an atheist, I finally found God and made my peace before we all ended up like a tin of sardines at the bottom of the ocean. So, with all due respect, aye, it was that bad, and now that we’re back on terra firma I’m in need of a stiff drink. Can I get you one?’
‘Not yet,’ said West, grinning, ‘we need to have a chat with Mackenzie first, and then the girls.’
‘Are you joking me?’ said Duncan. ‘Not even a small one? A wee dram? For medicinal purposes?’
‘Nope. Come on, we’ve got work to do.’
‘Och, I never realised you were such a hard taskmaster.’
‘Sorry?’
‘I said, it’s only a Talisker I’m after.’
* * *
Apart from his training at the police college in Kincardine and a two-year probationary period spent honing his skills with the residents and sightseers of neighbouring Campbeltown on the Kintyre peninsula, native islander Bobby Mackenzie, despite his years, had never left home.
Clad in his yellow hi-vis jacket cradling a lukewarm mug of tea, he glanced up as Duncan entered the room, his face breaking into a sea of weather-beaten wrinkles.
‘Are you okay?’
‘Aye,’ said Duncan, scowling. ‘Why wouldn’t I be?’
‘No reason. It’s just that you look, well, a wee bit…’
‘I’m fine pal. It’s just a touch of indigestion, that’s all.’
Mackenzie stood and proffered his hand.
‘PC Mackenzie,’ he said. ‘You must be…’
‘No. I’m not. I’m DC Reid. And this is DI West.’
‘Don’t look so surprised,’ said West as she slung her coat over the back of a chair. ‘Apart from being skilled in the art of washing-up, I can also cook, drive a car, and probably drink you under the table. Oh, and I’m quite good solving the odd crime too.’
‘Sorry, miss. I didn’t mean…’
‘Forget it. Now, let’s push on. Ella MacCall. From the top.’
‘Well there’s not much to tell really. In fact, if you don’t mind me saying so, I’m not really sure why you’re here, I mean, was it not just a climbing accident?’
‘Nope, afraid not,’ said West as she pulled up a chair. ‘The poor girl was drugged.’
‘Drugged? Are you sure?’
‘If you want to question the professional findings of the pathologist, Constable Mackenzie, then maybe I should let you lead the investigation.’
‘No, no. Sorry. It’s just, well it’s just a shock, that’s all. I mean, drugged? Here? I think you should have a word with McIver. That’s John McIver, he led the team who brought her down.’
‘We will,’ said West. ‘Later. Now, let’s try again, shall we?’
Mackenzie lowered his eyes, flicked open his notebook, and cleared his throat.
‘Okay,’ he said, ‘we have four girls on a wee break. A Miss Holly Paterson, Miss Kirsty Young, a Megan Dalgleish, and of course, Ella MacCall. They all travelled together from Irvine and arrived on the 6:55 from Ardrossan. Their rooms were booked in advance. After checking in they had supper here at the hotel and then a walk around the town before going to bed. The following day they had breakfast, walked up to the Co-op, to fetch provisions I imagine, then retired to their rooms. They set off again around lunchtime.’
‘Set off where?’ said Duncan.
‘Why, Goat Fell of course.’
‘Was it not a bit late to be heading up there? I mean, they’d have only had four hours of daylight left, five at best.’
‘Aye, right enough,’ said Mackenzie, ‘but if no-one knew where they were going, then no-one could stop them.’
‘Okay,’ said West, ‘apart from their crap sense of timing, was there anything suspicious about them when they arrived? Were they skittish? Edgy? Quiet? Withdrawn?’
‘No, quite the opposite, quite an exuberant bunch by all accounts. Easy going. The only thing that stood out was their clothing, not exactly dressed for the time of year, let alone taking a walk up a mountain.’
‘How so?’ said Duncan.
‘Kagools, T-shirts, trainers.’
‘So it could have been an impulsive thing,’ said West, ‘to climb Goat Fell. A spur of the moment decision not really knowing what they were letting themselves in for.’
‘Aye, maybe,’ said Mackenzie, ‘but to be honest miss, they’d have to have had a screw loose to try it. Let’s face it, it’s not as if they’re from California, they know what the weather’s like.’
West leaned back, folded her arms and stared at the cobwebs hanging from the light fitting on the ceiling.
‘Did they hook up with anyone here?’ she said. ‘At the hotel, in the bar? Did they get friendly with anyone in particular?’
‘Not that I’m aware of, and I have asked. Pretty much kept themselves to themselves.’
‘Okay, so they set off at lunchtime. What next?’
‘Three of them came back,’ said Mackenzie, ‘didn’t even make a mile. They said they got scared when they saw the cloud come down.’
‘And what time was that?’
‘According to Kelly, sometime around four o’clock, or thereabouts.’
‘If they were so scared,’ said West, ‘why did they let Ella MacCall go up alone?’
‘She was adamant, so they say. She didn’t want to leave the island having seen nothing but the inside of a hotel room.’
‘And they didn’t try to stop her?’
‘Holly Paterson says they did, but it was like talking to a brick wall.’
‘So, who called rescue?’
‘Megan Dalgleish,’ said Mackenzie. ‘She used the phone behind the bar and did the usual: 999.’
‘Time?’
‘8 pm, give or take.’
‘Eight o’clock!’ said Duncan. ‘Why the hell did she leave it so late?’
‘John McIver’s words exactly. He was fizzing, and I can’t say I blame him either.’
‘Was there anything unusual about the body when they found it?’
‘Not that I know of.’
‘And did they find anything? Her phone, maybe?’
‘What do you think?’ said Mackenzie. ‘Listen, no offence, but it was pitch black up there and they didn’t have the chopper. If it wasn’t for the wee doggie I doubt they’d have found her at all.’
‘So, the question is,’ said Duncan, ‘why would a young lass be stupid enough to climb the mountain in summer clothes despite her pals warning her off?’
Mackenzie shrugged his shoulders and drained his mug.
‘Who knows?’ he said. ‘Maybe it was a dare.’
West, apparently bored, disinterested, or preoccupied, rose to her feet and wandered slowly around the room, stopping to peruse a curious assortment of china knick-knacks sitting on the mantel shelf before checking her watch.
‘What time do they stop serving?’ she said.
Mackenzie glanced furtively at Duncan and smirked.
‘Sorry?’
‘Food. What time does the kitchen close?’
‘Nine.’
‘Good,’ said West, as if talking to herself. ‘The girls, how were they when they returned from Goat Fell? Their mood, were they happy? Sad? Worried? Upset?’
‘No to all of the above,’ said Mackenzie. ‘Obviously I wasn’t here but Kelly says they were their usual selves, relaxed as in not really fussed about anything. They had themselves some supper in the bar and then a few drinks.’
‘How old are they?’
Mackenzie puffed his cheeks as he referred to his notes.
‘Three are eighteen, that’s including Ella MacCall, and Holly Paterson’s the eldest at nineteen.’
‘Isn’t that a bit y
oung for a girl to go yomping up a mountain unaccompanied?’
‘Not really, miss. An experienced fifteen year old could do it.’
‘But not an inexperienced eighteen year old, obviously. Was there anyone with them? A guide? A local who knows the path?’
‘No-one,’ said Mackenzie. ‘I’ll be frank, miss, no-one in their right mind would’ve headed up there, not anyone from these parts anyway.’
West, her green eyes glinting in the glow of the single overhead bulb, stared vacuously into space and paused.
‘Next of kin,’ she said. ‘I assume you’ve already informed her family?’
‘No,’ said Mackenzie. ‘She doesn’t have any. According to Holly Paterson she was raised in care from the age of nine. Her parents died suddenly.’
‘Suddenly?’
‘RTC miss. A lorry rear-ended them on the motorway.’
‘And I bet he got off with a couple of years,’ said West as she grabbed her coat. ‘The girls, did they arrive on foot?’
‘They say they took a taxi from the terminal.’
‘And have you checked that?’
‘Sorry? I’m not with you.’
‘Have you checked with the cab company? Have you found out who picked them up?’
‘Well, no. I didn’t think…’
‘Do it now. We’ll be upstairs.’
* * *
The twin room, tastefully furnished with two single wrought iron beds, a dresser, a wardrobe and an easy chair was – save for the glow of a flickering table lamp – as gloomy as the louring night sky. The girls, sitting side by side like subordinate siblings sulking under a curfew, jumped as Duncan, not waiting for an invitation, blundered into the room and hit the lights.
‘Dear God, you look happy,’ he said as a startled Holly Paterson shielded her eyes. ‘I hope we’ve not kept you waiting.’
‘No, you’re alright,’ said Holly. ‘We’ve had Instagram to keep us busy.’
‘In my day,’ said West, smiling as she perched on the edge of the armchair, ‘we had something called books. So, come on then, who’s who?’
‘I’m Holly, this is Kirsty, and that’s Megan.’
‘I’m Detective Inspector West and this is Detective Constable Reid.’
‘Detective?’ said Holly. ‘How so? I mean, did Ella not just freeze to death?’
‘It’s a bit more complicated than that but it’s nothing for you to worry about. So, how are you feeling?’
RANCOUR: A gripping murder mystery set on the west coast of Scotland (Detective Inspector Munro murder mysteries Book 8) Page 4
