Chapter 7
They took the Orphir road. It was the longer route to Stromness, but Erling preferred it because of the view across to Hoy, which was very much on his mind.
He wondered how the SOCO team were doing at the locus.
There had been no word as yet, which suggested nothing of interest had been found.
He should be relieved by that, but found himself wishing he could delay the handover of the property to Mr Maitland a little longer.
At least until they might identify the victims found there.
The morning weather had been dry, although the forecast was for intermittent rain arriving soon from the west, accompanied by a rising wind. Despite the foreboding sky, the mayflowers were out in abundance along the verges. A carpet of yellow on either side of the road.
When younger, he’d never paid much heed to their appearance, although he now recalled how much his mother had loved the sight of them. Mayflowers and the kye back out in the fields signalled the return of spring after the long dark winter.
His sergeant had remained silent during their exit from Kirkwall. Waiting, he suspected, for him to speak first after his meeting with the architect and his partner. Which he now did.
‘Maitland told me something interesting,’ he began.
Jo immediately perked up. ‘What?’ she asked.
‘It was Ivor who approached Maitland and offered to sell him the land.’ Erling explained about Maitland’s article in The Orcadian. ‘Plus Ivor led him to believe he was doing so to spite his offspring.’
Jo made a face. ‘It sounds like an episode of Succession.’
Erling, who didn’t possess a TV and only knew what was popular because of his DS, decided not to pursue this comparison. Jo obliged him anyway.
When she’d finished her story, he acknowledged the resemblance of Ivor and his relationship with his children to its fictional equivalent.
‘Kris Mowat was, according to Maitland at least, the only one Ivor had a liking for,’ Erling told her. ‘However, he was not one of the pall-bearers at Ivor’s funeral.’
‘Perhaps because of that,’ Jo suggested.
‘My thoughts exactly,’ Erling said as they entered Stromness. ‘Which makes me even keener to talk to young Kris.’
They found a parking spot near the harbour and cut through onto Victoria Street and the Stromness Hotel. As they walked, Erling found himself questioning why Kris should have chosen to stay in Stromness, since Ivor had ended his days in Kirkwall and had had his funeral in St Magnus Cathedral.
From what he’d heard via PC Tulloch, Kris had been in attendance at the wake at the Kirkwall Hotel. So he hadn’t followed the coffin to its final resting place on Hoy, which seemed odd, if he was indeed the favourite.
Muttering his thoughts out loud on this, he was met by a response from Jo.
‘I suspect he was keen to observe those who didn’t follow Ivor to Hoy, as they were more likely to be his adversaries.
What?’ she added as he threw her a penetrating look.
‘You forget I’m the daughter of a Caithness minister.
There’s nothing I don’t know about feuding families and what goes on at funerals, and at weddings,’ she added with a smile.
‘Including the ones where the wedding cake gets flushed down the toilet.’
Erling was at a loss on how to come up with an Orcadian equivalent, although he was pretty sure there would be one, and Tommy would likely know it. Luckily, they’d reached the steps leading up to the entrance of the hotel.
Approaching the desk, he asked that Mr Kris Mowat should be informed of their arrival. The call from the desk to the room being answered, they were given the room number and invited to go on up.
‘Who told you he was staying here?’ Erling said.
‘PC Tulloch.’
‘And we don’t have a mobile number for Kris Mowat?’
‘No. And I think the voice that just answered the call to the room was female,’ Jo said.
‘Kris brought someone with him to Orkney?’ Erling said. ‘I didn’t spot that at the funeral.’
‘Perhaps he spared her both the funeral and the wake,’ Jo suggested.
The room was on the second floor. They decided against the lift and headed for the stairs instead. Now, standing outside the appropriate door, Erling indicated with a finger to his lips that they should listen before knocking, keen to establish who in fact was in the room.
When all they heard was silence, Erling began to think that the female who’d answered the call might well be there on her own.
It turned out he was right. His firm knock was swiftly answered, the door opening to reveal a young woman looking out at them. His first impression was of fear. Either she was frightened of the police in general or of this visit in particular.
Erling explained who they both were, and that they wished to speak to Kris Mowat, adding a ‘please’ at the end in an effort to allay her fears, whatever their origin.
‘Kris isn’t here,’ she managed, her voice a little shaky.
‘Perhaps you could give him a call and tell him we’re in Stromness and would like a word with him?’ Jo suggested.
Jo’s kindly tone only seemed to make matters worse, as the girl’s face crumpled. A small sob followed, before she managed to say, ‘Kris went out this morning and he’s not come back. I think something bad has happened to him.’
Jo moved inside, helped the girl to a seat near the window, then took the neighbouring chair by the small table.
Erling, following Jo into the room, closed the door quietly behind him and remained standing there in silence.
‘Why would you think something bad has happened to him?’ Jo asked quietly.
‘He’s not answering his phone. And after the funeral . . .’ She tailed off as though she’d already said too much.
‘He’s upset about his great-grandfather?’ Jo tried.
‘No . . . yes . . . I—’ The girl came to a halt and drew herself up. ‘I apologize. I’m overreacting. He’ll have gone for a walk or maybe a run round the island in the hired car. He sometimes turns his mobile off when he wants to think.’
‘I spoke to him regarding our visit at this time,’ Jo said.
The girl nodded. ‘I know. I’m sure he meant to be back.’
Erling wasn’t sure he believed that and, when he exchanged glances with Jo, it looked like she didn’t either.
‘What about if we just chat until he arrives?’ Jo suggested.
‘I don’t know anything,’ the girl said.
‘Why don’t we start with your name?’ Jo said.
‘Rachael,’ she said. ‘Rachael Everett.’
The voice sounded English to Erling. Soft and likely from the south.
‘And you and Kris are together?’ Jo asked.
‘Yes, but not for long. Maybe six months or so,’ she added.
‘He asked you to come to Orkney for the funeral?’ Erling said.
Her face took on a panicked look. ‘I didn’t know it was for a funeral. He just asked me to come here, because he wanted to deal with some family business.’
‘You didn’t know that his great-grandfather, Ivor Mowat, had died?’ Jo said.
She shook her head. ‘I don’t think Kris knew that either. At least, not when he booked our flights.’
‘And when was that?’ Jo asked.
‘Three weeks ago.’
‘So before Ivor died?’ Erling said.
Rachael nodded. ‘When we got off the plane, we saw the newspaper. Ivor’s face was on the front. Kris was really upset and angry.’
‘That he hadn’t been told?’ Jo asked.
She nodded. ‘The funeral advert was in the paper and he said he had to go, but that I shouldn’t, because they would be mean to me.’
‘He meant his family?’ Jo said.
‘I suppose so. Anyway, I wanted to see where he came from, so he dropped me at the ferry at Houton and I went across to Hoy instead.’
‘This was yesterday, the day of the funeral?’ Erling checked.
‘Yes. I walked up the coast to the famous grave on the hill there.’
‘Betty Corrigall’s grave?’ Jo said.
The girl’s face crumpled a little at the name. ‘Yes. It was really sad.’
‘The Mowat croft house is up that way,’ Erling said, wondering if she’d noted the activity there.
‘I know that now, but not then. Although I saw the red digger that found the body.’
‘Has Kris spoken to you about that?’ Jo said.
She shook her head. ‘But everyone in the hotel is talking about it. It was a mother and a baby they found, wasn’t it?’
Erling’s confirmation of this seemed to distress her even further and she rose and fetched her mobile. ‘I think I should try Kris again. If he doesn’t answer, you can take his number and try locating him yourself.’
As they heard the call ring out unanswered, she handed Erling the mobile and sat back down, her face grown paler.
‘Are you okay?’ Jo said. ‘Can I get you some water?’
The girl stood again and headed for the bathroom, swiftly shutting the door behind her. Moments later they heard the unmistakable sound of her being sick.
‘I’ll go downstairs and try calling Kris,’ Erling said. ‘If he doesn’t answer, I’ll leave him an official message.’
Jo nodded. ‘I’ll make sure she’s all right, then join you.’
The girl reappeared moments after the door closed behind Erling. By the expression on her face, she’d been hoping they both might have left.
‘I just wanted to make sure you were okay,’ Jo assured her.
The girl accepted this without comment and, reaching for her bag, extracted something that turned out to be a biscuit, which she nibbled at.
Jo watched as a little colour came back into the girl’s face.
‘I’m sorry,’ the girl said. ‘It’s my fault Kris went out like that. He was upset when I told him . . .’ She halted there.
‘That you’re pregnant?’ Jo said.
The girl looked at her in surprise. ‘How did you know?’
‘Experience,’ Jo said. ‘So what happens now?’
‘We stay here until the will is read out on Friday. Then we go home.’
‘And home is?’ Jo said.
‘London.’
Jo asked no more, but produced her card. ‘You can reach me on this number. Any time. If I can help in any way, I will,’ she said. ‘As to Kris. Can you email me a photograph? In case we need to put out an APB.’
‘I’ll do that now,’ Rachael said.