Chapter 21 The Wild Girl, Chapter 11
Inspector Melrose dearly wished Roland had not requested the strupak, which seemed to be the local word for a bite to eat.
It had prolonged the visit. They left having extracted a promise from MacLeod that he’d let them know if his daughter turned up.
“Please tell her she’s in no kind of trouble,” he emphasized.
“We just need her help to find out who might have wanted to harm Miss Lucy.”
“I’ll tell her.” MacLeod sniffed. “If and when I see her.” He didn’t sound too hopeful.
“I’m not volunteering to help you look for her in this weather,” Roland said as they drove off. “She’ll have sought shelter somewhere. There are caves in the mountains and sheep bothies. She may even be watching us and stay hidden until you take the ferry back.”
So what next? Melrose asked himself. “I suppose I should question the other villagers,” he said. “Surely somebody would have noticed the events of that night?”
Roland snorted. “Have you ever been on the island at night, Inspector? If there is no moon the blackness is complete. You’re lucky if you can see your hand in front of your face.
We’ve no electric lights, no streetlamps.
Everyone goes to bed soon after it gets dark here.
They close the curtains and shut out the night. ”
“All the same, I should speak with them.”
Roland was staring straight ahead as the windscreen wipers tried valiantly to keep the rain off the glass.
“What we’re going to do right now is to go back to your hotel.
My father asked me to show you the boat and then take you to your hotel.
That’s what I’m doing. If the police can’t provide their own transportation then that’s too bad.
I can’t be expected to play chauffeur to every visiting policeman. ”
Melrose sat staring ahead as cloud and mist shifted and parted. He felt miserable and frustrated. His hat was sodden, his hair was wet, his feet were freezing and he was wishing fervently that he had never accepted this assignment. But then he realized he had had no choice. An order was an order.
They drove in silence back to Kyleakin and pulled up outside the Kings Arms. Melrose thanked Roland and went inside. A pleasing warmth and the smell of something frying, possibly fish and chips, reminded him that he hadn’t eaten since breakfast.
“Well, here you are then, Inspector.” Mistress MacLeod appeared from a side room.
“And it’s what we say here is ‘tha i fliuch.’ A wet day and no denying it.
You look positively soaked. Take your coat and hat and put them in front of the fire while I go and find you a nice cup of tea.
And no doubt you’ll be wanting something to eat? ”
“That would be lovely,” he said. “Thank you very much.”
“What had you in mind? A sandwich?”
“I need warming up,” he said. “Do you have something hot?”
“A bowl of cock-a-leekie then,” she said.
Clearly the frying was for someone else, and he didn’t have the nerve to ask her for some of that.
Besides, a bowl of stew was just what he needed right now.
He spread out his hat and coat to dry, took a seat and waited.
Mistress MacLeod came out, carrying a tray with the stew, a roll and butter and a cup of tea.
“Get those inside you and you’ll not do too badly,” she said, putting the tray down. As Melrose started to spread the butter she lingered. “Well,” she said, “you must have seen the laird. How is he? And his poor wife. Bearing up after the tragedy, I’ve no doubt.”
“They are both deeply shocked,” Melrose said. “Sir Henry’s wife looks positively stricken.”
“They worshipped that girl,” Mistress MacLeod said. “Everyone did. The sweetest thing on God’s earth. Who could possibly have wanted to harm her? You’ll not have uncovered any evidence so far, I’m thinking?”
“I’m afraid not,” he said. “It’s not easy to surmise what happens when a boat capsizes out at sea. It could turn out to be an accident after all.”
“Oh, really?” She looked disappointed. Even as he had said the words he found himself wondering if this would be the case.
Stewart was a humble young man of limited means.
What if he had simply borrowed an old boat, its sail already disintegrating, its ropes rotten and ready to snap, and everything had given way in the face of strong waves?
How easy it would be to come to that conclusion and to go back to Glasgow.
Only one thing stopped him from coming to this conclusion.
Euan Chisholm had vanished, on the night of the tragedy.
And the Wild Girl was nowhere to be found.
One of them either knew something or had to be involved.
He could not go back to Glasgow before he found out the truth.
He had no idea how he would do that. He got out his notebook and made a list:
Need image of Chisholm to show around. Recheck ferries. Find out if his picture has been circulated at mainland ports.
Visit Chisholm’s family on mainland.
Speak to villagers about what they know and what they might have seen.
Speak to other members of Sir Henry’s household—the maid who took food to Chisholm, etc.
Visit governess on mainland.
Arrange for my transportation.
This last item was imperative as he could accomplish none of the others without it. He went up to the front counter. “I’d be grateful if I could use your telephone,” he said. “I have to arrange for the taxi for myself.”
“Young Jock, you’ll be needing then, no doubt?” she said. “Aye. He’s a good lad. Taken over from his father, whose rheumatics are now troubling him. Verra proud of that motor car of his, you know. Keeps it spotless. Lovely just.”
Melrose dialed the number, praying that Young Jock was not at this moment driving someone to a hospital on the other side of the island. The phone was picked up after the first ring.
“Jock’s Taxi Service, Young Jock speaking,” said a cheery voice.
Melrose introduced himself and asked if they could meet.
“I’ll be over in a jiffy,” Jock said, and true to his word he arrived soon after, pausing on the doormat to take off his oilskin and shake the rain from his hair.
“Aye, but it’s a moist kind of day,” he said. He looked as cheery as his voice, a lanky lad with dark hair and dark eyes that twinkled with amusement. He held out his hand.
“Glad to meet you, Inspector, and happy to be of assistance. Frankly at this time of year the extra money will be welcome. We’ve a little one on the way and the wife wants a fancy nursery—a proper cot and swathes and all.
The old family cradle isn’t good enough for her.
” He gave Melrose a knowing grin. “Are you married yourself?”
“I am not,” Melrose said. “My young lady died, unfortunately. I haven’t found anyone to match her since.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Jock said. He crossed the room with Melrose, and they took two armchairs near the fire.
“Life’s not easy, is it? We’ve plenty of tragic deaths on the island, you know.
Not all the babies live to grow up, in spite of our good fresh air.
” He crossed his long legs. “So Inspector MacDonald says that I’m to drive you around wherever you need to go. ”
“That’s right,” Melrose said. “You understand that I’m here to investigate the death of Sir Henry’s daughter and the man she was running away with.
” He broke off as a great blast of wind buffeted the window, making it rattle alarmingly.
“Although I’m not sure that this afternoon is the right time for it. ”
“It’s supposed to get worse by nightfall,” Jock said. “A proper storm they’re saying. My dad could have told them. His rheumatics play up when a storm’s coming in. Better than the weatherman on the radio, he is.”
“So tomorrow morning, if the weather has improved, I’d like to interview the villagers in Dun Akyn,” Melrose said. “And speak to the household members at the castle. I’ve already met the family. Now I’d like to chat with the servants.”
“I don’t think Sir Henry will like that.” Jock still looked amused. “He won’t want his servants speaking behind his back.”
“He’ll have to lump it then,” Melrose said. “This is a police investigation. Sir Henry doesn’t have a say in who I talk to.”
“I look forward to that,” Jock said. “And what else?”
“The important thing is to find Euan Chisholm,” Melrose said. “Apparently he disappeared around the same time as the couple fled in the boat. I have to think he’s a major suspect. You wouldn’t have any information on him, would you?”
“Not recently,” Jock said. “The police from Portree already asked me if he’d used my taxi to get to the ferry. I told them he had not. I transported him to the castle when he arrived several weeks ago.”
“And what was your impression of him?”
“You know what these aristocrats are like. They think God made them and then he rested. This man was definitely more stuck up than most. Thought a lot of himself. He ordered me to carry his bags as if I was his personal servant. Snapped his fingers at me and told me to ‘get on with it, man, and don’t keep me waiting.’ I didn’t take to him so much. ”
“So now it’s imperative that we find him,” Melrose said. “I’ll need a photograph of him to show at the ports.”
“I don’t think you’ll need that,” Jock said. “Everyone in these parts knows the Chisholms.”
“All the same he could have slipped across in some sort of disguise.”
Jock nodded. “True enough, I suppose. Although anyone unfamiliar would have caught the eye of the boatmen. It’s different in summer when it’s tourists and mountaineers coming and going. But this time of year it’s only locals going across to visit relatives or to a doctor’s appointment.”
“Well, that’s something we can do today,” Melrose said. “I don’t like to be sitting idle. Let’s go down to the ferry port and see what we can learn.”
“Right you are,” Jock said. “Best put your waterproofs on, though, or you’ll be drenched.”
Melrose looked out at the swirling rain. “Maybe just leave all this for the morning then.”
“My thoughts exactly,” Jock said.