Chapter 12
Emma finished the chapter. She went over to the desk and picked up the new notebook and pen. She realized she’d need to make notes if she was not allowed to remove the manuscript. She headed the first page Character names/role in story.
Inspector Melrose. First name? James. Parents’ names?
Mistress MacDonald. Owns B and B.
Inspector MacDonald. Runs police station in Portree. Big healthy type.
At this she paused. If everyone on the island was called MacDonald it would soon be confusing to the reader.
She realized that such remote places would have members of the same clan, but she’d talk to Iris about it, see how they could make things clearer.
With this thought came the realization that she was already accepting that she would be working on this book.
On the next page she wrote: Known facts about the murder.
Local laird. His daughter victim? Unknown man victim? Confused. Suspect son of laird across on mainland. Euan Chisholm.
Then she closed the notebook again, anxious now to read on.
The Wild Girl, Chapter 3
The motor car was a new Morris Cowley, looking as if it had not been out of the garage much.
Melrose collected his belongings from the boarding house and paid Mistress MacDonald, as the police chief had suggested he stay nearer to the crime scene, rather than have to make this journey.
Melrose could see why, as the narrow road hugged the rocky shore, winding in and out of sea lochs, then swung inland over treeless hills, covered in windswept grass with streaks of faded heather and dying bracken, before dropping down to the next bay.
He had survived the sea crossing without feeling sick, but after an hour of swinging around bends he felt a little queasy.
He hoped and prayed that he’d make it to their destination without having to admit to his weakness.
He could tell the chief already thought he might not be up to the job, that he was too young and inexperienced, and he was determined to prove the man wrong.
After miles of seeing no sign of life except sheep and an occasional fishing boat out to sea they came to a small hamlet and slowed as they went along the quayside.
Melrose thought that a cup of tea and a bun might be nice and would settle his stomach, but MacDonald showed no signs of stopping.
Melrose was not going to show any sign of weakness by asking to stop.
So on they went, now with the waves breaking on a rocky shore beside them.
From time to time small islands appeared, some green and closer to shore and some just hazy blue shapes in the distance.
Melrose wondered how far along in the journey they were and when he’d get a first glimpse of the mainland.
When he ventured to ask, the chief inspector shook his head. “Not for a wee while yet,” he said.
Melrose stifled a little sigh. He wished he had not had the big, fatty breakfast. That black pudding sat like a stone in his stomach. After more twists and turns in the road they came into the first signs of civilization. Melrose let out that sigh he had been holding. “Is this it now?” he asked.
“Nae, laddie, this is Broadford. And yon mountains behind the town are the Red Cuillin. Quite a challenge if you’ve a mind to climb one.
I was quite a keen climber in my younger days.
Of course the harder climbs are in the Black Cuillin to the west of here.
Some nasty rock faces. There are climbers killed every year on Skye, with the changeable weather we have.
They think our mountains are not that tall, but they are unforgiving, I can tell you. I’ve had a few scares myself.”
“Well, I can assure you that I don’t plan to do any climbing,” Melrose said.
“Are you more of a rugby man or would it be football?”
“I used to play football at school,” Melrose said, feeling inadequate that he no longer played anything other than the occasional snooker or darts. “Now I just follow the Rangers.”
“Ah, a Rangers man. Good. We’ve those around here who follow the Celtics.
Leads to blows in the pub sometimes.” He chuckled.
“My wee son Robbie is verra keen on his football. Practices all the time. Thinks he’s going to be a pro someday.
‘Don’t be so daft,’ I tell him. ‘Ye might be a good player for Skye, but you’ve nae seen the outside world.
’” He glanced across at Melrose. “Don’t get me wrong, I think he is going to be good.
And no doubt he’ll be off the island as soon as he can.
That’s what most of the young folk do these days.
We’ll wind up with only old folk, and then there will be no need for policemen.
They always behave themselves, don’t they?
Too tired to be naughty or too short-sighted to shoot anyone.
” And he laughed at his own joke before asking, “So do you have wee bairns of your own?”
“No, I’m not married,” Melrose said.
“You have a young lady in mind, I’ve no doubt?”
Melrose shook his head. “No one at the moment. There was a bonnie girl a few years ago, but she died. She was a nurse at the Glasgow Royal Infirmary, but she was nursing during an outbreak of typhoid. She caught it and died. I’ve not found anyone since to match up to her.”
“I’m sorry,” MacDonald said, “but then you’re still young. Plenty of time to play the field, eh? I rather wish I hadn’t rushed into it myself, but there was a reason to speed things up, if you get my meaning.” He gave a knowing grin.
While he had been talking the coast of the mainland had come into view.
Melrose took in the range of mountains, clear and blue in the morning light, rising up behind a steep and rocky shore and a jagged promontory jutting into the sea.
As he watched, a ferry boat left the mainland and started across the narrow strait.
They were finally nearing their destination.
“So this is Kyleakin,” MacDonald said. “It’s the ferry port and it has a decent little hotel where we’ll check you in. The village we’re going to is a mile or two beyond.”
Melrose was calculating mentally. “Are you planning to stay down here while I do my investigation?”
“No, laddie. I’m needed back in Portree. I was just driving you down to fill you in on the details so far.”
Melrose noted that the chief inspector insisted on addressing him as laddie.
This might have been to show friendliness, or how people spoke to one another on Skye.
On the other hand it might have been talking down to him because of his age, when in fact he was an equal in rank.
He decided not to be patronized. “In that case how am I to get from my hotel to the site of the crime? I don’t plan on walking a mile or two each day, and you say the primary suspect is from the mainland.
I presume you’ve had officers over there checking out his family and friends? ”
“Most of the investigative work was waiting for you to come up from Glasgow,” MacDonald said.
“Frankly we’d have let this be, not considered it a crime, if the laird wasn’t involved.
Sir Henry Hamilton. He’s a big noise in these parts.
Local member of Parliament. It was his daughter who died, you see. ”
“Let me get this straight. There were two murders? I wasn’t told that much before I set out. I heard the laird’s daughter, but did you not say it was a young man from the mainland?”
“Aye. A lower-class man from the mainland and the laird’s daughter. They were running off together so it seems. Somebody made sure their boat would capsize and sink. The jealous suitor would be the primary suspect then, wouldn’t he?”
“That’s the son of the gentry on the mainland who was the jealous suitor, is it?”
“Aye. That’s the one. Nobody’s seen hide nor hair of him since. We’ve sent a description out to all the police stations in the area, but so far nobody has reported seeing him. It’s my belief he got away in a boat, before the tragedy happened, probably in Ireland now, or on his way to France.”
“I see,” Melrose said. His thoughts were racing. How was he supposed to do anything if the main suspect was known and had vanished? Without a police vehicle he couldn’t go chasing all over Scotland. “So you didn’t answer my question about how I’m going to get around if you take the motor car back.”
“Dinnae fash yourself, laddie,” MacDonald said.
“I’ve already arranged with Young Jock MacLeod to have the local taxi at your disposal when you need it.
His father, Old Jock, had the first taxi on the island, and now his son has taken over the business.
He’s not too busy at this time of year. Not many people daft enough to try the mountains when the rain can turn to snow at any moment. ”
When Melrose nodded, he added, “So I’ll drive you over to Dun Akyn. But first let’s get you checked into the hotel, then we’ll go together to visit Sir Henry. As I said, it will make things easier for you if I introduce you. I don’t think he’d take kindly to an outsider butting in.”
“I’m sure he’d be glad to have the death of his daughter solved by a professional detective,” Melrose said.
MacDonald gave a small snort. “Professional detective, is it? I suppose all that Glasgow training gives you the edge over us poor souls stuck in the back of beyond with only our wits and experience to guide us.”
Melrose felt his fair skin flushing. “I did not mean to insult you in any way, Inspector,” he said. “I meant that men like Sir Henry would expect to be sent top-level help, and that means the biggest city within reach.”
“Aye, you’re maybe right on that,” MacDonald agreed. “And you see yourself as a top-level man, I take it?”
“I see myself as competent,” Melrose replied, refusing to take the bait. He still had not made out Inspector MacDonald. At one moment quite friendly and chatty and then next questioning whether Melrose was up for the job.
They had arrived at the point at the same time as the ferry.
Melrose noticed that this one was a proper steamer although flat bottomed to carry motor cars.
The village of Kyleakin itself was no more than a few white cottages lining the waterfront and dotting the hillside above the port plus a couple of larger buildings.
One of these was the Kings Arms Hotel, a long, low building that looked like an overgrown cottage.
“Oldest hotel on the island,” MacDonald said. “I hear it dates from the sixteen hundreds. But no doubt they’ve put in a few upgrades since then. You might even find an inside WC if you’re lucky.” Again he laughed heartily at his own joke. Melrose smiled.
“I’ll leave you to get on with it then,” MacDonald said. “I’ll be waiting in the motor.”
Inside, the reception area was pleasantly warm, thanks to a big, open fire at the back of the lounge.
The counter connected to the back of the bar so that one person could check in guests and then swing around to pour a pint.
At this time of day the pub was closed, drinking hours being strictly observed in Scotland.
A pleasant grey-haired woman greeted Melrose and said she’d been warned that a gentleman from the big city would be coming to help with the investigation.
“Such a terrible thing to happen to that sweet girl,” she said, shaking her head.
“I don’t know what she was thinking, running off with that stranger.
If you ask me, I’d wager he kidnapped her.
Else why would she be leaving that fine, young Euan Chisholm, son of the laird from over across the strait?
She’d not have made herself a better match. ”
“It is indeed perplexing,” Melrose said. “But let’s hope we can get to the bottom of it quickly.”
“But you’re such a young man,” she said. “Will your superior nae be joining you on the case?”
“I am the detective inspector sent from Glasgow,” he said. “I may look young but I can assure you this is not my first murder case.”
“Well then, they must think highly of you to send you to Sir Henry. He’s not an easy man to please, I can tell you.
Spends half his life down in London at Westminster and stops in here quite frequently.
And do we hear it if the beer is too warm or too cold, or if the ferry crossing was too rough for his liking—as if we have the power to calm the waves for him like the Blessed Lord. ”
Melrose decided that islanders liked to talk—make that gossip. He nodded attentively as the woman produced a hotel register and a key.
“Inspector Melrose, is it then?” she asked.
“And you’d be Mrs MacDonald?” he replied jovially.
“Oh no, mo ghaol.” She frowned. “I’m Mistress MacLeod. You’ll find as many MacLeods on the island as there are MacDonalds. And a number of Hamiltons, too.” She looked up with a cheeky smile. “But you’d be the first Melrose we’ve had.”
With that she handed him a key. “Number twenty, at the end of the hall. I’ve put you away from the noise of the bar and close to the bathroom,” she said.
“You’ll be taking your evening meal in the bar at this time of year.
We don’t open the dining room when the summer tourists have gone home.
Breakfast at eight. And if you don’t mind my saying so, I hope you do a good job and find whoever did that to the lovely young lady.
A wicked shame that was. A truly evil deed. ”