Chapter 34
The weather had stayed on their side throughout their time at the site of the fire and on the beach, but as they continued along the road to Moaness, dark clouds claimed the sky and large drops began to patter the windscreen.
After an hour at the ferry terminal, their only taker was a boy with a dog who asked if they’d found any more burnt bodies, and one of the ferry crew Jo recognized from earlier, who came up to ask if the body on the beach was Kris Mowat.
‘And you are? she asked firmly.
‘Ethan Howie,’ he told her.
When Jo assured him that the victim’s identity had not yet been confirmed, he remarked, with a puzzled look, ‘Who else could it be, then?’
Trying not to despair, she asked if he’d seen Rachael Everett, the young woman who had been reported missing from the Stromness Hotel, and whose photograph had been made available online.
At that, he shook his head. ‘Haven’t seen it. But I heard that Kris Mowat left everything to her, so she’s likely dead too.’
‘Why would you think that?’ Jo demanded.
‘What the Mowats want, the Mowats get,’ he offered darkly, before heading off.
‘Maybe he’s right,’ she said to Ivan as they set off back the way they had come.
‘If the body proves not to be Kris, then I’d say it was him who came for Rachael at the hotel,’ Ivan told her in a determined manner. ‘And they’re hiding out somewhere. Or they’ve left Orkney altogether.’
‘We’re watching the ferries and the airport,’ Jo reminded him.
‘They could still get a boat to take them across the Pentland Firth on the quiet. They might both be in Scotland, or even south by now.’
Jo found herself wishing that were true, while at the same time thinking how easy it would be to bury their bodies somewhere on this empty island, where they might lie undiscovered, perhaps for ever.
‘Do you think Ivor knew or suspected Stella’s body was buried next to the croft house and that’s why he sold the land for the eco-house?’ she asked Ivan.
‘I’m beginning to think that,’ Ivan replied with a nod.
Otherwise the grave would never have been discovered, Jo thought, as she stared out at the emptiness. Hoy was the second largest island in the archipelago with a single road on one side only, and a population of just four hundred souls.
On reaching their accommodation, they were treated to mugs of tea and home baking by a Mrs Maggie Clouston.
It was at this point Jo realized that their landlady was a distant relative of PC Tulloch on his mother’s side.
What the relationship was exactly she didn’t ask, just listened to their chatter and tried to pick up the gist of what was being said.
The call from the boss had come on their way back from Lyness. She’d been dreading its arrival, aware as the time passed for the Scrabster ferry to arrive in Stromness that Gus Gowan was likely now in Kirkwall.
Her relief when she realized that Gus hadn’t exposed her lie by mentioning her in his initial conversation with the boss had swiftly faded as she acknowledged there was plenty of time yet for that to happen.
Unless she asked Gus not to?
That idea came and went, leaving a sickening feeling behind. On no account should she ask anything of her former lover, because he would undoubtedly use it against her.
At this moment she was stopped in her thoughts by Ivan’s voice asking if she was all right.
Noting both Ivan and her host observing her with concern, she shook her head in apology. ‘Sorry, I was miles away,’ she offered, before changing the subject. ‘Would it be okay if I had another scone?’
The topic of food was something PC Tulloch knew and appreciated. The plate of scones was pushed in her direction.
Jo concentrated on adding the butter and jam, as Ivan and their landlady continued to discuss what had happened on Hoy and what Maggie’s thoughts were on the matter.
As she tuned in again, Jo realized that nearly everyone she’d spoken to that morning bar one had echoed the story now being recited.
All blame lay somehow with the Mowat clan.
Ivor had kept them in check, but now he was gone it was a free-for-all.
The younger bloods were the worst. Back in the day Ivor had ruled his sons with a rod of iron.
Those sons hadn’t been so firm with their own offspring. This was the result, she was told.
Now Maggie was talking about Betty. ‘A bonny lass, she was a big favourite with Ivor. He was broken-hearted when she left Orkney.’
It seemed an apt moment to bring up Kris’s parentage, so Jo said, ‘Did Ivor know who Kris’s father was?’
Maggie shook her head. ‘There was a lot of speculation but no one really knew, except Betty, of course, and she chose not to say. She wasn’t seeing anyone local as far as I remember.
It could have been one of the visitors to the island or one of the workers at Flotta.
There were more of them back then. Anyway, whoever it was ruined that poor lass’s life.
But,’ she said, meeting Jo’s eye, ‘Ivor found his great-grandson and that was a blessing . . . until now,’ she added, a catch in her throat.
Ivan came in then to assure her there was no forensic evidence as yet to prove that the body on the beach was Kris. With a quick glance at Jo, he added, ‘You mentioned that Hugh and his brothers don’t keep their sons on a tight rein the way Ivor did?’
‘Aye.’ She looked to Jo. ‘You’ll know that Max Mowat, Harald’s son, was up in court in Aberdeen recently on a drugs charge?’
Jo nodded, then waited, giving Maggie a chance to continue.
‘He got off, apparently, and is boasting about it to anyone who’ll listen. Harald, his father, needs to take him in hand. But maybe Harald’s involved? That club in Aberdeen they run. Who knows what goes on there?’
Ivan came in again. ‘Is there talk here of drugs coming into Longhope or Hoy?’ he said.
‘There’s drugs everywhere now. Used to be drink that was the big problem in Orkney.
You only have to read the Sheriff Court pages in The Orcadian to know it still is.
But most of the time it’s drink and drugs.
So the drugs are getting in for sure. Flotta’s not as busy as it once was with outsiders, but there’s still a lot of coming and going there. ’
It seemed an apt time to mention Mr Maine, his telescope and the boy racers, so Jo did that.
‘I know Tom Maine,’ Maggie said. ‘He definitely didn’t want the eco-house built there to spoil his view, but he’s right about the boy racers.’
‘Do you know who they are?’ Jo asked.
‘My guess would be Max’s son, Ragnar, and his mate Gary, who’s Cameron Mowat’s grandson.’ She met Jo’s gaze directly before adding, ‘And you can be sure if Max Mowat’s up to no good, then they’ll be right behind him.’
There were five vehicles outside the fire station when they got back. When Ivan suggested they work separately again, Jo agreed. Later, when the shift was over, she would tell him what the last woman of the morning had implied about Kris’s parentage.
Back then, she’d thought it more malicious speculation than truth, but as the day had passed and more about the Mowat family had been revealed, in particular during their conversation with Maggie, she was beginning to consider the possibility of it being true.
Willie met them at the door and, with a quizzical look, asked how the day had gone. Ivan gave him a quick résumé, mentioning that their chats with Tom Maine and Maggie had been the most informative.
‘Tom told you his theory regarding the fire-raising?’ Willie said. ‘I haven’t got the forensic evidence to prove it, but I think Tom may be right. Trouble is, the two of them have alibis the night the fire started that puts them on Flotta.’
‘Who vouched for them?’ Jo checked.
‘Another Mowat. Their uncle Albert, no less.’ Willie pulled a face. ‘Are you ready for tonight’s turnout?’
‘Anyone we should know about?’ Ivan said.
Willie shook his head. ‘All upstanding citizens who want this sorted.’
Entering the room, Jo noted that one of the men waiting was the ferry guy from Moaness. The one who’d freaked her out by maintaining that both Rachael and Kris were already dead.
What had brought him here?