Chapter 42
Having been woken from a deep sleep, and hearing the Liverpool accent, Erling had initially thought it was Rory calling him, before registering it was in fact DS Gowan on the phone.
As Gowan’s words began to take on shape and a terrible meaning, Erling told him he would head for Kirkwall immediately. Ringing off, he realized that he hadn’t instructed Gowan to secure the scene, plus all the other rules that had to be followed in the current circumstances.
But, he reasoned, as he threw on his clothes, DS Gowan was a seasoned officer and should know the drill by heart.
Just as he was about to leave, he remembered that he’d told DS Green he’d deliver her to Auld Mackie’s this morning.
He then messaged her to tell her that he’d had to go into the station earlier than expected.
And could she get Magnus to drop her at Auld Mackie’s via Langwell, where she would find the diary in his porch.
Fetching Ivor’s diary from his vehicle, he stashed it, as promised, behind the coat stand in the porch.
Now, cresting the hill, he was met by the view of a restless Scapa Flow under a blood-red sky, prompting memories of last night’s endeavours. Which also made him wonder whether this morning’s terrible discovery in Kirkwall might in some way be linked to what had happened on Cava.
The young woman found drowned in the harbour earlier this morning had yet to be identified. DS Gowan had been of the opinion she’d ended up there because of drink or drugs, or more likely a mixture of both.
If drugs had been involved and they were in any way linked back to the Mowats . . .
Erling felt a wave of anger engulf him. Might Leo Strachan have been right? Had something stronger than what they’d been dealing with up to now found its way into Orkney, either via the suspected younger Mowats or the county-lines gangs already established in Aberdeen and Inverness?
Being early Sunday morning, the road proved quiet, but Erling turned on the siren anyway, wanting to get to the harbour as swiftly as possible.
He met only a couple of vehicles on the way, but was in little doubt the dwellings he passed would register that an incident had happened, and likely in Kirkwall.
Drawing up outside the Kirkwall Hotel, he found the area at the harbour cordoned off and an ambulance in attendance. The body, Erling suspected, was already inside, awaiting his arrival.
He noted two officers from last night’s team and a figure he recognized as Leo Strachan talking with DS Gowan, who was still in his clubbing gear from the previous night.
Both men now turned towards him and Erling registered Leo’s distress and what looked like real anger on DS Gowan’s face. Bracing himself for the possibility that he might know the victim, Erling made his approach.
‘What’s the story, Detective Sergeant?’ he said quietly.
‘An elderly man, staying in a front room on the second floor of the hotel, spotted the girl behaving oddly on the pier and called 999.’
‘Time?’ Erling said.
‘Around forty minutes ago. I was informed of the emergency call and arrived a few minutes before the ambulance. Leo was with me. Between us we pulled the female from the water and carried her onto the pier, then the paramedics took over. They pronounced her dead shortly after that.’ He nodded towards the ambulance.
‘Leo didn’t know her, and the ambulance team didn’t recognize her either, although I think I may have seen her earlier in the club. ’
‘Any ID?’
‘None, sir. No bag or phone on the body. Her outfit didn’t have any pockets either.’
Erling acknowledged all of this, then headed for the ambulance. It would be quicker should he be able to identify the victim, but . . . he stopped himself there. Regardless of her identity, she was someone’s daughter, and her family would have to be informed, likely by him.
He immediately recognized the two men with the ambulance. Alan Renton was the paramedic and lived out Evie way. The driver, Sandy, was from Kirkwall. They greeted him in a sombre manner.
‘My sergeant said you didn’t recognize her?’ he checked.
‘No,’ Alan said, with a shake of his head, ‘although they don’t look the same when they’re out clubbing, so I could be mistaken.’
Erling climbed into the back of the ambulance and took a seat beside the girl.
If she was eighteen at all, it wasn’t by much, he thought.
Not long in the water, her face was like someone passed out after a night on the town, make-up smeared, although the false eyelashes still clung to her lids.
She wore dangly earrings and a nose ring, which looked like it was clipped on.
Her hair was long and dark with a pink streak.
What little clothes there were consisted of a very short skirt and a top that barely covered the small breasts.
She would have been cold, he immediately thought. Not inside the club maybe, but definitely once she’d hit the fresh air.
A wave of sadness swept over him and he tasted some of the anger he’d seen on the sergeant’s face. A young life snuffed out before it had really begun.
Taking time to study the face again, he tried to picture this girl alive and walking about Kirkwall in normal attire, or maybe among the seniors at Kirkwall Grammar School when he’d gone there to speak to the pupils.
It didn’t work. If he had encountered her before, then he couldn’t match the girl from then with the image of her now.
Emerging from the vehicle, he asked Alan what he thought might have happened.
‘There’s no obvious evidence of an assault. But undoubtedly drink and drugs were involved.’ He nodded in the direction of the club. ‘That’s why they go there. That and the music. She may have wandered here and fallen in. But where were her mates? The lasses usually go about in groups.’
Giving him permission to take the body to the mortuary for examination, Erling now noted the SOCO team had arrived and were working the area around the harbour. With luck they might spot the girl’s belongings somewhere along the edge or maybe in the water below.
It was first light now and the activity was drawing attention. Erling decided it would be better to get a full report from DS Gowan and Leo back at the station, but before he departed, he was keen to speak to the person who’d made the 999 call.
‘He’s expecting you,’ DS Gowan told him. ‘He’s back in his room. Didn’t want to be badgered by reporters or anyone else. Mr Johnson’s on holiday from America. Didn’t expect to get caught up in a possible murder investigation.’
‘He said that?’ Erling asked.
Gowan shrugged. ‘He said if this happened in LA, it would likely be murder.’
Sending Gowan and the pastor back to the station for the debrief, Erling entered the hotel lobby, where he discovered some of the staff gathered, discussing the goings-on out front.
Explaining that an officer would be posted here to take statements in the adjacent dining room, he asked for Mr Johnson’s room number and headed upstairs.
The room had a fine view of the harbour, although Mr Johnson – Hal, he said to call him – was keeping well away from the window. After introducing himself, Erling asked the elderly American to describe what had happened.
‘I got up from bed to go to the bathroom and took a look out at the harbour. It’s lovely all lit up at night,’ he said, a catch in his throat.
‘I decided to take a photo and went for my phone. I was settling into a shot when the girl suddenly appeared around the corner from Bridge Street.’ He halted for a moment.
‘Her feet were bare, and she wasn’t wearing a coat.
’ He hesitated. ‘I was about to take my picture, but I didn’t want her in it. ’ He looked embarrassed by that.
‘And?’ Erling encouraged him.
‘It was then I realized there might be something wrong with her. She fell to her knees, then got up again and looked up at the building. That’s when I took the photo.
Then she disappeared and I thought she’d likely gone down the walkway to the boats.
That worried me because of the state she was in. That’s when I called 999.’
‘Did you go down there?’ Erling asked.
‘I tried, but I’m not good on the stairs and the lift wouldn’t come because someone hadn’t shut the gate properly further up.
So I was slow getting there. By then two men had appeared from Bridge Street – I pointed to where I’d seen the girl and they went down the walkway and pulled her out of the water. ’
He sat down on the bed as though his legs wouldn’t support him any longer.
‘May I see the photo, Mr Johnson?’
The man handed over his mobile. ‘It’s a bit out of focus but you can just see the girl in it.’
Erling studied the image, which was undoubtedly that of the girl’s face looking up at the hotel. It was a face he didn’t recognize.
‘Did anyone else appear?’ Erling tried.
‘Not that I saw,’ Hal told him.
‘Was she carrying anything, a bag maybe?’
He looked as though he were trying to recall, then his face crumpled a little. ‘I’m sorry, I never noticed.’
Erling offered his thanks and, handing over his card, asked Mr Johnson if he could send him a copy of the photograph.
‘Of course, Inspector,’ he said willingly. ‘I’ll do that now.’
‘How long are you here for, Mr Johnson?’ Erling said as the photo pinged in.
‘I leave today.’ His expression suggested he was relieved about that.
‘Thank you for calling 999 so promptly,’ Erling said as they shook hands.
‘Your officer got here very quickly, the ambulance too,’ he added.
‘Unfortunately, they weren’t fast enough,’ Erling said.