Old Sins, page 28
‘Good morning, Shirley! How are you today? Can I fetch you a cup of coffee?’
‘Thank you, Antony. That would be very kind,’ she said as she went to sit on his other side. She could see that the plate and mug set at the fourth place hadn’t been used.
‘No, no, Antony, sit down. I’ll get it. Do you want toast, Shirley? Or granola?’
Again, Maia had spoken without actually looking at her, but clearly they were meant to play nicely. ‘Not cereal, thanks,’ Shirley said. ‘But I could do with some toast.’
‘I’m sure you could. Better make it two slices, Maia,’ Antony called after her, ‘the poor lady didn’t get her supper last night.’ He smiled at Shirley. ‘One of these occasions when it was the demon drink talking and we all just forget about it the next morning – isn’t that right?’
‘Oh yes,’ she said feebly. She certainly wouldn’t forget it and she didn’t think for a second that he would either, but she had to be grateful to have initial awkwardness smoothed over. ‘What are you going to do today?’ she asked.
‘I’m driving up to a shoot in Scourie later, but Maia’s going to walk me up to the harbour first to see what they’ve done there. When last I was here there was only a track, but I hear it’s a surfaced road now. Such a beautiful morning for a walk, too.’
The sun was indeed streaming in and though the leaves were disappearing fast, a few of the trees in the garden were still showing the rich reds and golds of autumn. ‘Beautiful,’ she echoed, but in her present mood the bare branches spoke of decay and darkness.
And where was Sean? Sleeping off his hangover – or more likely up checking on his wolf. She didn’t like to ask, but she heard the phone ring and when Maia came back with her breakfast she said, ‘That was the police to say the tracker should be here this morning. I haven’t seen Sean, but I guess he’ll be trying to get the creature cooped up first. At least it means that one way and another the nonsense will be over, Antony.’
She smiled nervously at Antony, who said, ‘Good,’ but didn’t smile. He stood up. ‘I’ll just go and pack up my things. Set out in half an hour, say? Would that suit you?’
‘Of course,’ Maia said. ‘But you’ll stay to lunch?’
Shirley knew she’d been planning on that, and the disappointment showed as Antony said smoothly, ‘I think not, this time. If you’re going to have to deal with all the fuss with dogs and policemen you don’t want me here getting under your feet.’
And being around when Sean, stricken and further enraged, came back would not be a good idea, he didn’t say. But Shirley could see that even Maia recognised that it made sense.
‘What a shame – I’ve got a lovely fish pie in the fridge. But I’ll pop it in the freezer and you can drop in on the way south.’
‘Excellent idea,’ he said heartily, but Shirley was fairly sure there’d be another excuse. Antony was plainly someone who liked to steer clear of trouble. He turned to her. ‘Shirley, dear lady, I’ll take my leave. As always, it’s been a delight to see you.’
She realised as he came across that he was planning to kiss her hand, so she grabbed his firmly and shook it with vigour. ‘Enjoy your walk. You certainly couldn’t have a better day for it.’
He looked a little put out at having his gallantry sidestepped, but he smiled and said, ‘Au revoir!’
Shirley gave him a gracious nod, thinking childishly, ‘Not if I see you first,’ as he went out.
There hadn’t been any more wolf problems overnight and they’d informed DCI Strang this morning that a vet and a tracker dog were on the way now, so the risk he’d taken had paid off – a considerable relief. Not only that, he’d drawn up a press statement about Ranald Sinclair’s arrest after Murray and French had left the previous night and submitted it to Edinburgh; the authorisation had come through this morning as well, so before he drove to Inverbeg he could get PS Erskine to distribute it to any reporters and tell them that was all they would be getting before he arrived.
It looked like being a purposeful day. By now DC Murray should be showing round Danni Maitland’s photo in Lochinver. First, he’d get hold of Sean Reynolds and if at the same time French got somewhere with establishing exactly what he did last Monday they might be able to put real pressure on him. It was perhaps too much to hope that there would be enough progress on both fronts for an arrest on suspicion, but at least the news of Ranald Sinclair’s arrest must have taken some of the heat off them.
To his surprise, Murray was not in Lochinver. She was waiting for him at the community hall to report on her eavesdropping in the pub the night before.
‘I thought you should know before you saw Reynolds, boss. Maybe not strictly relevant, but it’s a wee glimpse behind the scenes.’
‘It certainly is,’ he said – and, of course, it chimed with his own impression that Ran hadn’t much of a chance with the very cool Mrs Reynolds, who clearly had bigger ideas. ‘Well done. Great use of initiative.’ He said it straight-faced, and saw Murray grin. He hadn’t always appreciated her using her initiative, but there was no doubt she was developing a fine instinct for investigation.
French had been working on her laptop and came forward to report on progress. ‘I’ve written up our talk with Reynolds and given a note of his workforce to Bob so he can organise working on that, along with a list of general questions about the wolves. I’m hoping I can get strands of information to put together to give us a clearer picture of his activities that day. And there’s feedback from Glasgow this morning about Danni Maitland’s background – I’ve never known a response come back so quickly!’
Strang laughed. ‘Ah, that’s the top priority status JB wangled for SRCS. So?’
French shook her head. ‘A few casual labour jobs, bar work, receptionist – that sort of thing. She’s got one mate with a breach of the peace recorded, after an Old Firm match. No known association with master criminals, I’m afraid.’
‘Too much to hope for. Nothing else?’
‘I’ve been pursuing the other lines we’ve talked about, but nothing of interest so far.’
‘Great,’ he said. ‘I’ll just get off now to find Reynolds and have a go at squeezing him till the pips squeak.’
French was a good officer too, he thought as he left the hall. Her talents just lay in a different direction and without giving it enough thought he’d pitchforked her into a situation that needed skills she didn’t have. It must have dented her self-confidence – and he could only hope that the case against Danni’s killer hadn’t been seriously damaged too. The words, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa, were running through his head as he reached Auchinglass House.
There were two cars parked outside: the silver Range Rover the visitor had arrived in yesterday and a BMW 5 series, but the Discovery he had noticed yesterday in passing wasn’t there. Damn – it probably meant Reynolds was out. He went across to the stable office to check, but the woman working there hadn’t seen him, had no idea when he would be back. He could ask at the house, but he wasn’t hopeful.
The door was opened by a woman in a pink overall – the ‘Ishbel’ Murray had mentioned, presumably. No, Mr Reynolds wasn’t in, and Mrs Reynolds had just gone out. Chancing his arm, he said, ‘I heard there was some sort of trouble here last night?’
For a moment, she hesitated. Then, perhaps making a rapid calculation about the possible cost of disloyalty, she shook her head. ‘Wouldn’t know about that.’
She’d been tempted, though. She had the look of a natural talker and he tried again with, ‘I expect Mr Reynolds has been very upset about his wolf.’
This was safer ground. ‘Oh, he’s been just beside himself! It’s the other wolf, you see – it’s like they were pets!’ She glared at him. ‘It’s not nice if the police go and kill the poor beast – it’s not its fault!’
‘I can promise you they’ll bring a tranquilliser dart. But what’s he planning to do about it?’
‘Well, Maia said he was away out early with his gun to lay a trail of rabbits to get it back into its cage. So that’ll be what he’s doing now.’
‘Right,’ Strang said. In fact, he’d heard a couple of distant gunshots this morning; in a country place like this, it wasn’t unusual someone shooting a rabbit or two for the pot, or even one of the legally protected – and loathed – crows and ravens.
‘When will he be back?’
‘Don’t know about him. Maia’ll likely be back for lunch with her visitor.’
‘Can you tell me who he is?’
Ishbel looked cautious. ‘I suppose that’s all right. It’s Mr Stanton – he’s the heid bummer, I think.’
That was a surprise. ‘The head of what?’ Strang asked.
That was going too far. ‘Don’t exactly know. Sorry – I’m needing to get on with my work now.’
The door was politely but firmly shut. She must have been warned about talking to policemen.
When he called Reynolds’ mobile there was no answer. He now had the interesting question of what organisation ‘Mr Stanton’ might be in charge of to consider, but apart from that he’d nothing to show yet for his ‘purposeful day’. The only consolation was that there was an air-conditioned van parked outside the community hall that told him the tracker dog had arrived.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Maia Reynolds had pictured this walk with Antony Stanton so often, so vividly: the two of them walking in golden autumn sunshine, a blue sky with not a cloud to be seen and perhaps the tiniest edge of frost in the air to prickle the back of the throat like the bubbles in champagne as they scuffed through the fallen leaves, laughing like children.
The weather, for once, had obliged, but the sodden leaves that carpeted the drive of Auchinglass House had been trodden into a squelchy, soggy mulch and thunderclouds gathering overhead would have been more mood-appropriate.
Her dreams had been all she’d had to keep her going between London visits and it was going to have been exciting too, to show Antony what she’d achieved since the last time he was here. In her imagination this was when they would be on their own and could say the romantic things they couldn’t say when anyone might overhear.
The way she’d planned it, he would have come to her room last night; it was more than a year since Sean had been banished to one right at the back of the house, and the guest room allocated to Antony was conveniently to hand. But by the end of the evening, when only Ben Linton’s presence had stopped Antony giving vent to his rigidly controlled fury, there wasn’t a chance.
At least Ben had been a success. He’d shown he had the right ideas, like the one about bringing in supplies through the harbour – Antony had liked that – and now she would have the freedom she wanted for visits to London and even exotic holidays, if he could find an excuse to join her. He hadn’t been keen before on her leaving Inverbeg in the hands of a secretary and she could understand that: Sean wasn’t fit to take over if anything went wrong, but how much longer could she bear living in this hell of little people with their pathetic little concerns, measuring out her life in coffee mornings? She’d served her sentence, surely. Now, just when she had her escape plans in place, Sean had buggered it up.
As she and Antony set off from the house, they heard a gunshot, and then another one. Antony said coldly, ‘If that’s Sean, it presumably means he’s trying to get his stupid rabbits and the blasted animal’s still on the loose. And is it safe to go on walking here if he’s going around with a shotgun?’
‘That was a long way away. You won’t find rabbits in woodland and that’s all there is up this way,’ she said.
‘I’ll take your word for it. But what on earth possessed him, Maia?’
She could read the implication: why didn’t you stop him? ‘I hadn’t the faintest idea he was doing this,’ she said, though it wasn’t quite true. With all the rumours going round, she’d suspected it, and Shirley had too. ‘The infuriating thing is that he’d only to wait. We’d explained it to him quite clearly – the wolves were an important part of the enclosure plan.’
‘Enclosure, right. The sort of rewilding everyone’s in favour of, the sort that brings in pats on the back, not the sort of nonsense that brings the police sniffing around, and no more cheques from the government. What part of that didn’t he understand?’
‘He doesn’t understand anything that isn’t totally wolf-centred. It’s an obsession – there’s no reasoning with him.’
Antony was walking so fast she was having difficulty keeping up. ‘Either that or he’s completely lost the plot. So what happens now?’
‘I don’t know. Quite honestly, after last night I don’t see how I can go on living with him in the same house, now this has erupted into the open.’
Antony stopped. ‘Oh no, Maia. No, no. We need him. He’s the guy who speaks the eco-maniacs language. OK, he lost it last night and we had a big bust-up. People do. It happens. But this puts all our plans back. We’ll have to shut down everything until the police lose interest. Stay out of contact for a bit.’
Maia gasped. ‘But – we’ve just got Ben put in place! I was planning to spend quite a bit more time in London now.’
He walked on. ‘Better not for the moment.’
It was as if he’d stabbed her. She’d never fooled herself that she meant as much to him as he did to her; there were no doubt other women, not to mention his wife, but she’d believed she was special. ‘Beauty and brains – the winning combination’ was what he always said.
‘You mean we can’t meet?’
He heard the hurt in her voice and swung round. ‘My darling, that will be a huge sacrifice for me too. You know how I absolutely live for your visits!’ With a quick glance round about, he held out his arms. ‘Come and let me show you how much this means to me.’
She allowed herself to be convinced by the velvety assurance of his voice and came to be kissed. Those doubts might return later, but surely somehow they’d get round it. She’d have to go down to see her father, after all.
It was as if he’d read her thoughts. He said, as he released her, ‘I know Lucas will be disappointed – he’s been really looking forward to seeing you more often. But he’ll understand.’
Yes, he would, Maia thought bitterly. The business had always taken precedence over everything else, but she couldn’t really complain – like father, like daughter.
‘Not far now,’ she said brightly as they climbed the steep hill up to the harbour. But it was Sean’s Discovery they saw first, parked at the entrance to a rough, narrow path leading into the trees.
She stared at it. ‘So is this where he’s got the cage? It’s quite an extensive plantation, in fact – they put it in when Nordic pines were to be the big cash crop, but now it’s all about native woodland so it’s been neglected since. I had it down for felling and selling off, then getting a grant for replanting but Sean would never discuss it – that must be why. He was constantly out checking yesterday to see if the wretched creature had come back.’
They both peered along the path but couldn’t see anything and after a moment Maia turned away. ‘The police will take care of it. And now, look! This is what we’ve done.’ She gestured proudly. ‘Do you remember what it was like before?’
‘Vividly – and the road too! You’ve done a fantastic job, sweetheart.’
The sea was very calm, grey-blue and glinting in the sunlight, the tide just on the turn as they reached the harbour. The row of long-abandoned, crumbling houses was still there but a lot of work had been done to create a good loading area on the quay, with the restored pier curving round to shelter the harbour basin and jutting out into a little bay given its own protection by rugged promontories on either side, angled like encircling arms.
He was beaming. ‘It really couldn’t be better, could it? The farthest outpost of our empire!’ He strode off along the pier.
Maia watched, amused. ‘Monarch of all you survey,’ she called. ‘There’s a couple of cottages here that have been combined to be a store. I’ll open it up to let you see it.’
There was a sudden very loud bang – a gunshot, nearby. If that was Sean, he was too damn close. She ducked automatically, yelling a warning to Antony.
When she turned round, he wasn’t there. He’d probably hit the deck – but where was he? Not on the pier, not on the cobbles of the quay. He couldn’t have moved fast enough, surely, to take cover in one of the ruins?
Then Maia noticed there was something in the sea beside the pier, gently moving with the sway of the waves – a raft of greenish brown wrack? And was that a patch of red dulse in the middle?
No, it wasn’t. It was a jacket – lovat green tweed. Antony’s jacket. And those were his hands, outspread as he floated face down, and there was a great raw red patch on it, spilling blood into the water.
‘Antony!’ she cried. She had to do something, rescue him, but the horror – the horror! Somehow she couldn’t move – and even as she watched he was pulled further out on the retreating tide. She wasn’t a strong swimmer and he was a big man. Her legs were buckling and she heard someone screaming. Even when she realised it was her she didn’t know how to stop.
She had no idea how long it was before Sean appeared out of the trees, his shotgun broken over his arm – two minutes, five minutes, ten – but when he did, he was in a furious rage.
‘Shut up, you stupid woman! If Raksha was anywhere near, you’ll have scared her away by now. What’s the problem? You’re hysterical! Look, calm down or I’ll have to slap you.’
Somehow she managed to get her breath. ‘Antony – you have to get him out.’
Sean looked bewildered. ‘Antony? Where is he?’
‘You’ve killed him!’ she shrieked. ‘Look – there!’ She pointed.
Sean walked across to look and turned a sickly grey. ‘But – I haven’t done anything! I heard a shot, but—’
Maia went very still. ‘Are you going to kill me now too?’
‘No, of course I’m not. I didn’t kill him, I told you!’
A current had caught Antony’s body, moving faster now, further out into the bay and drifting on, sinking lower and ever lower in the water. Sean bent his head and covered his eyes.
