Chapter Eleven Dealing Trouble
Isla
Isla paced back and forth in the police station’s waiting area, her eyes fixed on the door behind which Finlay was being held. She had arrived the night before, frantic and worried, but the officers had refused to let her see him.
“I’m sorry, miss,” the desk sergeant had said, his expression firm. “He’s being processed. You can’t see him now.”
Mrs. Keith was dead. Killed by a poisoned dart planted in Finlay’s house. And no one believed they were together, especially that hard-headed Officer Rory.
Isla returned this morning determined to get some answers. But again, she was met with resistance. “I’m afraid he’s still being held for questioning,” the same sergeant said, his tone unchanged.
Isla’s frustration boiled over. “But I was here last night, and you said that. Now it’s morning, and you’re still not letting me see him?”
The sergeant’s expression softened slightly, but his answer remained firm. “I’m sorry, miss. You’ll just have to wait.”
Isla’s eyes stung with tears as she turned away, her mind racing with thoughts of Finlay, alone and frightened in his cell. Benjamin Blackwood. She recalled him asking her to call him. She turned toward the sitting area, and from the corner of her eyes, she spotted Elliot.
She rushed toward him. “Elliot, he has rights.”
He stopped, turning around to face her. “You care about him,” he murmured.
“It doesn’t matter. What matters is that he was with me. He couldn’t have hurt Mrs. Keith.”
Elliot’s eyes moved from left to right, scanning their surroundings. “Come with me.” He grabbed her arm and took her out of the station. “Look, Isla. There is mounting evidence against Finlay.”
“What evidence?” she shot back. “We didn’t even know Mrs. Keith was killed or that a poisoned dart was used. Finlay’s neighbour, Bonnie, said she saw Angus and Callum arguing at his house. Doesn’t that count for anything?”
“I’m sorry, but it doesn’t. Go home, Isla, and let us do our jobs.”
“But you are doing it wrong, can’t you see? You have the wrong man in custody, and the real killer is out there, driving his scrap metal jeep around town!” she yelled.
Heads turned their way. Shakespeare whined. His ears laid back, and his tail tucked. She looked down at her faithful companion. She had totally forgotten he was still with her.
Get yourself together, she scolded herself.
“I’m sorry, Elliot. I’m sorry.” She shut her eyes, letting her head fall back as a frustrated groan escaped her lips. “Let him call his lawyer,” she said, walking away with Shakespeare beside her.
“He has. Isla, just let this go, please, I beg you,” Elliot called after her.
Isla turned to look at Elliot. “I wish I could.” And then she marched to where her truck was parked.
Twenty missed calls. That’s how much she had called Callum, but he wasn’t picking up his phone. Every call ended with the beep of the answering machine. And so, Isla decided to go to his house. It was dangerous. She was about to go into a suspected killer’s house.
Suspected killer? She debated inwardly. It was Callum. He knew Mrs. Keith pulled out of the deal, and now she was dead. The same way Angus pulled out and ended up bleeding to death. She was going to prove it. Motive or no motive.
This wasn’t a Netflix series with a laid-down blueprint. This was real life. Callum had to be the killer. Maybe he has a mental problem?
She shuddered as a shiver worked down her spine.
Isla’s phone chirped. It was Ailsa. She put the phone on speaker. “Hello?”
“Have you found him yet?” Ailsa asked.
“No, I’m heading to his house now.”
“Is that a good idea? Why don’t you come down to my office, and let’s think this through,” Ailsa suggested.
Isla shook her head, even though her friend could not see her. Her mind was made up. “No,” she answered bluntly.
“Come on, Isla, what if he is really the killer? Then you are just going to confront him?”
Isla was quiet, so she continued, hoping to take advantage of it to convince her otherwise. “Look, I don’t know how true this is, but I heard that he was spotted at Finlay’s house that evening.”
“Of course. To plant the murder weapon. He did this, Ailsa, and they want to pin it on Finlay. Callum was the anonymous tip. He planted the darts and called the police. I think he is sick, Ailsa. It’s the only explanation for this madness.”
Ailsa sighed. “And I believe you. But I don’t want you to go, so please come to my office, and we’ll figure this out together.”
“Okay. Okay, I am turning around.”
“Good, I’ll be expecting you,” Ailsa replied, hanging up.
But Isla wasn’t turning around. She came to a stop in front of Callum’s cottage.
Her plan was to get a recording of him saying something incriminating and then deliver it to the police.
She climbed down from her truck, unleashing Shakespeare.
“Go, boy, go…” She patted his side as he ran into Callum’s property.
She took a long look at Callum’s cottage. The weathered wooden boards creaked in the wind, barely holding the small, crumbling dwelling together. A patchwork of rusty corrugated iron and thatched straw covered the roof while overgrown weeds choked the doorway.
Isla knocked on the front door, but there was no answer.
She tried the handle a few times, but the door wouldn’t give way.
She checked under his doormat and under the dried-out flowerpots for a key, but there was none.
Then she moved to the grimy windows, checking the pane for a key, but was greeted with faded curtains hanging limply, giving a glimpse into a life of quiet desperation.
“Hello?” someone called from behind her.
Isla’s heart skipped a beat. She turned to see a dark-skinned young man in suspenders staring at her with a questioning look.
“If you have come for your money, you came late. He skipped town last night,” the man said.
He ran away.
“What?!”
“Aye.” The man exhaled heavily, causing his shoulders to slump. “He owes me too, and I know I could have stopped him, but…” He trailed off, a sympathetic look crept into his expression. “He is drowning in so much debt. I just had to turn a blind eye.”
Oh God. Isla’s heart sank. She paced a left and right and then halted when Shakespeare ran out from the back and hovered by her side. He didn’t find anything. “Do you know where he went?”
The man shook his head. “Like I said, out of town. I saw him with a backpack.”
Isla thanked the man and walked away. She could still retrace his steps, and so she decided to go where she knew Callum had committed his second crime.
Joan’s house.
Isla parked a few distance from Joan’s house. She scanned the area as she strolled down to the house. There was an ill feeling in her belly. She paused, eyes darting up and about for any movement. Why do I feel like I am being watched?
She pushed through her paranoia and marched to Joan’s door. A few knocks and the door swung open.
The woman’s frown deepened when her eyes landed on Isla and then Shakespeare. “Joan, I’m so sorry. Can I come in?”
Joan lips pressed into a thin lip, and then she sighed and opened the door.
“I am so sorry. Mrs. Keith was a very lovely woman. God knows I’m going to miss her tea,” Isla said.
Joan eyes filled with tears, and she gasped softly.
“Joan, I am so sorry. I know this is not the right time, but I have some questions.”
“Questions,” Joan repeated with a hint of annoyance. “What questions?”
“Please, I just want to know. Was Callum Reid here?”
Joan narrowed her eyes at Isla. “Yes, Callum was here to force Caitlin not to pull out. Isn’t that the handiwork of your friend, the developer?”
Isla shook her head. It wasn’t. Finlay never asked Callum to speak with Mrs. Keith. “No, he didn’t send Callum. Callum came on his own, and now I know why.”
It all made sense. Callum was broke and needed the project completed to pay his debts.
“Tell me, what happened after?” Isla pressed.
“He couldn’t convince her otherwise, so he left.
Then, twenty minutes later, there was a knock, and all I saw was Caitlyn talking to a man in a black cloak.
I went to the kitchen, and the house grew silent…
” She trailed off, her eyes growing distant.
“I come out, and she is lying on the ground, dead.” Joan shook her head, fighting back tears.
“The man in the black cloak. Are you certain it wasn’t Callum?” Isla pressed.
“No, it wasn’t. They found the watch… his pocket watch. It was in her hand,” Joan replied through gritted teeth.
Isla halted, mouth agape. “No, it can’t be. He was set up.” Callum set Finlay up. Her skin paled at the thought. It had to be when he came to the office with the forms.
Tears streamed down Joan’s face. “What do I care?” she sobbed. “This town was perfect until the developer came with his machines. Now her house is gone, and she is gone.” She wiped her eyes, heading back to the front door.
Isla followed her, knowing Joan wanted her out of her house.
“Do you know why I came to Lochraven?” Joan asked. “Because I was tired of the big city. I was tired of London. Everything was ever-changing, and nothing was constant. Everything was fake and had an expiring date. Lochraven is not London. It doesn’t need to be. It didn’t need big changes.”
In that fleeting moment, Isla saw the fear and uncertainty in Joan’s eyes. The same fear that was once in hers.
“No, Joan. You are wrong,” she objected. “Every day we change because if we do not change, we fail to discover who we really are.” She swallowed and then continued, “I once was afraid, but not anymore.” And then a sad, small smile played on her lips.
“Embrace it,” she finished. She turned away, hearing Joan’s door close behind her.
“Come on, Shakes.” She spun to see him sniffing and pawing at a manhole at the corner of Joan’s home. “Shakes?”
He arched his head toward the manhole. A small, black piece caught Isla’s attention. She squatted, picking it up, but the other end was stuck in the manhole. Memories of Finlay detailing Angus’ death and the manhole they had fallen into at the church flooded her mind.
Lochraven used to have an underground system—a bunch of tunnels linking each other. Joan had mentioned a man in a black cloak. Her guts told her that Callum was inside, hiding out. She pulled out her phone and texted Finlay.
I am following a lead at Joan’s house, and I have to go into the manhole. I believe Callum is hiding out in the tunnels.
He killed Angus and Mrs. Keith. He is broke. He killed them because they were delaying his payday.
It has been Callum along, and I am going to prove it. She hit the send button and then slid her phone into her pocket. She lifted the leader, revealing a rusted iron stairway. With one last look, she began climbing down the stairway.
But then strong arms grabbed her legs and yanked her down.
Woof! is the last thing she heard as the sunlight disappeared from her vision.