‘Hell, no! He’s not that kind of guy. He’s more... cerebral, if you know what I mean. No way would he have been involved in whatever happened to Younger.’
‘Well, let me tell you what happened to Younger. He was murdered, Brannan. Someone attacked and assaulted him at the summit of Binnein Mòr and pushed him into the Corrie of the Two Lochans, where he broke his neck in the fall. And something Sita found during the post-mortem made her a target, too.’
‘Well, whoever killed Dr Roy, it couldn’t have been Joe. He didn’t get back from the plant till after two, and I’ve been with him all afternoon and half the night.’
‘Why?’
Brannan sighed deeply. ‘Trying to persuade him to talk to you.’
‘Why?’ Brodie was insistent.
‘Because he’s probably got a good idea why Younger disappeared.’ He paused and rephrased. ‘Why Younger was murdered. But we didn’t know that this afternoon.’
‘Why would he know anything about Younger’s disappearance? And why would you think he did?’
‘Well, like I said, it was obvious that Joe was some kind of source.’
‘Source of what?’
‘Information.’
Brodie was losing patience. ‘Information about what, for God’s sake?’ His raised voice echoed around the bar.
Brannan shrugged hopelessly. ‘I don’t know. About the plant, I suppose.’
‘Ballachulish A?’
‘Well, what else would he know about?’
‘So he was some kind of whistle-blower?’
‘I wouldn’t know. I really wouldn’t.’
‘So what did he say during all those hours you were with him today?’
‘Just that he didn’t want to get involved. He was scared. Rabbiting on about the safety of his family. His future. I just about got his whole life story.’ He took a mouthful of spaghetti and chewed on it for a few moments. ‘Look, Mr Brodie, I went out on a limb here. I don’t want my hotel dragged into this. But ever since they found Younger’s body, I knew there had to be more to it. That Joe must know something. And I’m sure he does. But he’s just so... so scared.’
Brodie finished the last of his carbonara, then leaned across the table towards Brannan. His voice was low and dangerous. ‘Well, you tell your friend that if he doesn’t talk to me and come clean, I’ll be going after him. Hard. Okay?’
‘Okay, okay. I’ll talk to him again. First thing tomorrow. I promise.’
Chapter Seventeen
A soft knocking at the door slowly penetrated the layers of fatigue that had wrapped themselves around his consciousness. Like a man rising from the deep, he broke the surface and opened his eyes to be greeted by a grey light that filled the room. He turned his head a little to the side. Through the window he could see low-lying clouds, bruised and battered, hanging from a turbulent sky, and big white flakes of snow drifting down beyond the glass.
For the second night he had slept in his clothes. He scratched the whiskers that bristled across his unshaven face and blinked the sleep from his eyes.
The knocking at the door came again. Louder this time. And a voice from the other side of it called, ‘Mr Brodie?’ A voice he didn’t recognise. He sat up too quickly and felt momentarily giddy.
‘Just a minute,’ he growled.
Slowly he swung his legs around to put his feet on the floor and stood up. He crossed to the sink and sluiced his face with cold water, then lifted his head to see the wreck of the man he’d become staring back at him from the mirror with bloodshot eyes.
He opened the door to find a short, thick-set man with a silvering beard standing in the hall. A blue fleece was dragged over a green chequered shirt. He was almost completely bald, and clutched a patterned woollen hat in his hands. Brodie could see the shock in wide-set blue eyes as he took in the state of the police officer who opened the door. Behind his embarrassment, a smile returned to friendly eyes. ‘Mr Brodie.’ Not a question. He thrust his right hand towards the policeman. ‘Calum McLeish.’ Brodie shook it. ‘I’m on the mountain rescue team with Robbie. Electrical engineer. Work up at the hydro plant. Robbie asked me to come over to see if I could repair a severed charging cable.’
Brodie had forgotten all about it. ‘Give me two minutes,’ he said, and closed the door in the other man’s face.
They drove around to the football pitch in McLeish’s dark blue pickup truck, making fresh tracks in thick, wet snow. The sky hung low, still spitting snowflakes into the chill morning air and obscuring the peaks that surrounded them. Through snow-laden trees, he saw the houses of the village grouped around the head of the loch, reflecting in slate-grey water. There was barely a breath of wind to disturb its mirrored surface. And nary a sign of life.
Brodie had tried his iCom before leaving the hotel, but there was still no signal. McLeish had watched, fascinated. ‘New comm kit?’ he said.
Brodie nodded.
‘Very cool.’
But Brodie shook his head. ‘Not worth a damn if there’s no signal.’
When they reached the eVTOL, McLeish jumped down into the snow, his breath billowing about his head as he pulled on his waterproof jacket. He leaned into the back of the truck to retrieve a toolkit from the flatbed and heaved it up over the side wall. Then he stood gazing admiringly at Eve. ‘She’s a fine beast,’ he said. ‘Not ridden in one of those before. Smooth, is it?’
‘Unless you’re flying through an ice storm.’
McLeish grinned. ‘Aye, well, that wouldn’t be very comfortable in anything airborne. Where’s the cable?’
It was buried under the new snow. Brodie grabbed the end at the eVTOL and started pulling it up as they headed towards the pavilion. ‘Don’t these things usually have contactless charging?’ McLeish said.
Brodie grunted, barely able to keep a civil tongue in his head. ‘Do you see a contactless charger around here?’
But McLeish maintained his good humour. ‘Good point.’
Finally the cut end of the cable pulled itself free from the snow, and Brodie crouched down to search for the other end.
‘Is it still plugged in?’ McLeish said.
‘It was the last time I looked.’
‘I’ll go and unplug it, then. Be unfortunate if we both ended up fried for breakfast.’
The very thought of breakfast made Brodie heave, and he stood up, breathing deeply, as McLeish walked over to the pavilion to unplug the cable. When he came back and examined the cut ends, he shook his head.
‘Someone took their life in their hands cutting through this. Must have had well-insulated wire-cutters.’ He looked up at Brodie standing over him. ‘Why didn’t he just unplug it?’
‘Presumably so it couldn’t just be plugged in again.’
‘Aye, right enough, I suppose, if the object of the exercise was to stop the battery from charging...’ He opened his toolbox, set in the snow beside him. ‘I can do a temporary repair to get it charging. But it’ll need to be handled with care, and best keep it clear of the snow. Don’t want water getting in and shorting the thing.’
Brodie stood watching as McLeish stripped back the cable from either side of the cut ends to prepare the wires for reconnection. ‘How long have you been on the mountain rescue team?’ he said.
‘Since I was a teenager, Mr Brodie. My dad was the team leader then. Taught me everything there was to know about the mountains.’
‘So you’re from the village?’
‘Born and bred. Nowhere else I would rather live. Especially in this day and age. I’ve seen some changes in the world in my time, as I’m sure you have, too. Most of them for the worse.’
Brodie nodded. ‘You were part of the team that brought down the body, then?’
McLeish looked up from his repair. ‘I was that, Mr Brodie. I’ve brought a few bodies down from the mountains over the years, but never saw anything like that before. What a helluva job it was getting him out of the ice.’