Chapter 17
He drove a little away from Elspeth’s house before checking for messages, hoping Jo had had a reported sighting of Kris Mowat.
In this he was disappointed. There was a message, but not regarding Kris.
Rather it was to say that Hugh Mowat had lodged an official complaint regarding the care home’s treatment of his father.
He’d cited neglect and their failure to inform the doctor of Ivor’s mental and physical decline prior to his sudden death.
Erling sat stunned at this. What the hell was going on? Had Hugh found out about his visit to St Magnus House and the content of his conversation with Cathy? Did Hugh have someone in the home reporting back to him?
His plan had been to summon Hugh to answer questions regarding his visit to his father on the night Ivor had died. Instead, Hugh had grabbed the initiative by accusing the care home of neglect.
Although he didn’t know Hugh Mowat personally, he was now aware of his reputation in Orkney.
Big in stature and in business, apparently Hugh didn’t suffer fools gladly.
He also headed up the family firm, which had interests in a variety of areas, including oil, fishing, construction and in two nightclubs.
One here in Kirkwall, the other in Aberdeen, managed by one of his younger brothers.
Erling now revisited what Jo had said after her talk with Rachael. Kris, Rachael had told her, thought the Mowats had orchestrated Ivor’s death when they discovered that he was in touch with his great-grandson.
Such an accusation could have been the result of Kris’s disappointment and anger at arriving in Orkney to discover Ivor’s sudden death, which no one in the family had informed him of. But maybe there was more to Kris’s accusation than that?
Erling contemplated Kris’s origins on his way back to the station, his instinct telling him that this might be playing a sizeable part in the story.
In Orkney, most folk could trace their heritage, legitimate and illegitimate. Betty, Kris’s mother, had left Orkney as a pregnant seventeen-year-old. Did Kris ever discover who his father was? Did anyone in the family know?
Both Betty’s parents were dead now. But what about Betty herself? Was she still alive? Might she be able to throw any light on what was going on here in Orkney?
It was a question Rachael might have the answer to.
He now considered Rachael’s part in all of this. Suddenly brought here by her boyfriend, who had rarely spoken of Orkney or his family here. Apparently she’d not been permitted to attend Ivor’s funeral with him because the Mowat family would be ‘mean’ to her.
Then, after she’d told Kris about the pregnancy and her thoughts about having an abortion, he’d walked out upset and disappeared, leaving her frantic with worry.
How long would or could she stay on in Orkney? And in the hotel? Particularly if the missing Kris was the one paying the bill.
He realized he knew nothing about the couple’s economic circumstances.
According to Tommy’s attempt at a Mowat family tree, Kris was twenty.
Rachael maybe even younger than that. How had they been living up to now?
Were one or both of them in a job? Would a pregnant Rachael have to go back south without an answer to Kris’s disappearance?
If so, what would she do about the child she was carrying? Who was, of course, a Mowat.
Erling had the sudden and chilling thought that it was unlikely Hugh would be happy at the prospect of Kris having a child.
He stopped himself going down that route. His immediate job was to find Kris. But what if Rachael wanted to stay in Orkney until that happened, and didn’t have the funds to remain here?
There were folk he might approach who could put the girl up for a limited time, and the cost would be much less than her stay at the hotel.
Running through them, one seemed the most likely, and that was his father at Home Farm. Tommy’s connection with Ivor through his own father, Sandy, was strong. He was also concerned about Kris. If Erling asked him, Tommy would undoubtedly say yes.
With that thought in mind, he drew into the police station car park.
Jo’s shift was over, yet he suspected she would still be here, waiting for whatever news he would bring back from the care home. And to impart any of her own.
There was a definite look of relief on the face of the desk sergeant when he walked in.
‘Glad you’re back, Inspector.’
‘Why, Sergeant, is anything amiss?’ he immediately asked.
‘We just got a call regarding a body found on Hoy at Lyrawa Bay. DS Green took it. I think she’s in your office, sir.’
‘Thank you, Sergeant,’ Erling said, trying to contain his shock at this announcement.
Opening the door to his room, he found Jo on her mobile, just as his own rang out in his pocket. She turned on his entry and, her expression also one of relief, cancelled the call.
The accompanying ringing in his pocket ceased.
‘Tell me,’ he said in the silence that followed.
‘The body of a young male has been found washed up on the sands at Lyrawa Bay, sir.’
Erling remained silent, not wanting to voice the question currently resounding in his head.
Perhaps sensing this, she said, ‘The first report says the body was badly burnt about the head, so not identifiable.’ She paused. ‘The police launch is collecting it and transferring it to the mortuary at the hospital.’
‘Thank you, Sergeant,’ he responded. ‘The description Rachael gave of Kris when she last saw him. Was there anything mentioned in the way of jewellery, piercings, tattoos and clothing?’
‘I need to check my notes,’ Jo said.
‘Okay, Sergeant. You do that and come back. Who phoned this in?’ he added as she moved to leave.
‘It was Willie Halcro, sir. He said to call him back. That’s why I was trying to reach you.’
‘Right. Thank you. I’ll do that now.’
The formality of their interchange, he knew, was being used to shield them from the horror of the news. Horror at any reported loss of life, but especially if it turned out to be that of Kris Mowat.
When Jo left the room, Erling moved to the seat behind the desk and sank into it, amazed that his legs had continued to hold him up.
It was as though his thoughts on the way here had been preparing him for this moment. A moment he had been trying hard not to think about as he’d focused on how they might help Rachael until such time as they could locate Kris.
Composing himself, he brought up Willie’s number.
The resulting call rang twice before the familiar voice answered.
‘Erling, I’m sorry to be the bearer of such sad tidings,’ Willie said.
‘You think it’s Kris Mowat?’ Erling immediately asked.
‘As I said to your sergeant, the victim was badly burnt about the head and upper body, so not recognizable, but . . .’
‘You think he was maybe caught up in the hill fire?’ Erling said.
‘If he was, I don’t see how he could have ended up in the water at Lyrawa Bay,’ Willie told him. ‘I take it there’s been no notice of a ship fire in Scapa Flow? Or anyone gone overboard?’ he added.
‘There hasn’t,’ Erling confirmed. ‘And just one person reported missing, and that’s Kris Mowat. How long has the body been in the water?’
‘Not long,’ Willie said. ‘But a post-mortem will tell you that and the nature of the burns, and maybe much else besides.’
‘What about any obvious identifiable marks? Any jewellery, piercings, tattoos? And clothing? What was he wearing?’
‘The coverings were mostly fire-damaged. No jewellery as far as I could see, although I didn’t move the body. The tide had brought it half onto the sand, face down.’ He stopped there. ‘I called the coastguard first. They contacted the launch. Then I called the station.’
‘Has the launch picked up the body?’
‘Yes, it’s on its way to the hospital now. I did take some photos with my mobile. I’ll send them through to you.’
‘Thanks, Willie. And can I ask how you found out about the body?’
‘An anonymous call to the fire station. Muffled male voice.’
Erling thanked him again then rang off, waiting for the ping of the incoming images, desperate to view them, yet worried at what he might see.
When they arrived, he decided to transfer them to his laptop so that he and Jo might check them together. He was doing this when his sergeant reappeared.
‘Most of what I took down from Rachael was in the description we circulated,’ she told him. ‘But she did mention a body tattoo, not in plain sight. Also, he was wearing a black ring on the index finger of his left hand. And a black leather band on the left wrist. I’ve sent my notes to your mobile.’
‘Right, let’s take a look at the photographs Willie sent through.’
He turned the laptop and came round the desk to join her.
The first photo was taken from a distance, as though Willie had begun as soon as the body became visible.
Then a selection of shots as he got closer.
The body, as he’d said, lay face down on the sand, the already retreating tide abandoning him.
Had he been lying on the beach when the tide came in or had the tide brought him there?
Closer now, Willie had started to record a video, slowly moving round the inert figure, capturing close-ups as he went.
‘You’ll have seen drownings before?’ Jo said.
‘Too many,’ Erling told her. ‘They come with the territory.’ He halted the video and zoomed in. ‘This one’s not been in the water long. In fact, I wonder if it’s been fully submerged at all. He may have been deposited on the beach at low water and immersed only briefly when the tide came in.’
Erling chose the view that featured the left hand and arm, then zoomed in further.
‘The hands are burnt, maybe trying to put the fire out,’ he said. ‘But that might be a ring on the index finger. I don’t see a bracelet, though.’
‘We’ll have to wait for the post-mortem to check for tattoos,’ Jo said. ‘Especially any beneath the remains of the clothing.’
‘So we can’t say that this is Kris Mowat,’ Erling said.
‘No, but who else is it likely to be?’ Jo said. ‘A partially burnt body lying on a beach below the location of the large wildfire at the Mowat croft?’
Erling had the sudden and terrible image of a burning man running wildly down the hill to the bay, unable to reach the water in time to save his life.