‘Christ! Then we might need to think about —’
She put a finger to his lips. ‘We have to be extra careful and make sure we cover our tracks.’
Ewan had spent the past hour on the phone dealing with islanders worried about Vicky or wanting news about Catriona. He gave them all as much information as he was able to, always maintaining his usual polite manner.
Penny’s door was ajar and she had found herself listening with more than half an ear. Try as she might to just get on with her own work she realised how much she liked his lilting accent and his ever friendly manner. She felt guilty about being so clinical earlier, so she went out.
‘Would you — er — like a cup of tea, Ewan?’ she asked, standing with her hands in her pockets. ‘I’d better get used to making it, since I’m the new kid on the block, so to speak.’
Ewan beamed at her. ‘Oh, that would be grand, Penny. Shall I show you where everything is?’
She toed the floor and immediately wanted to rebuke herself. Stop behaving like a sixteen-year-old. Just make him a cup of tea and then get back to work.
The bell rang and the outer door opened. A moment later Calum Steele came in.
‘Ah, Constable McPhee, the very man I wanted to see,’ he said in a deliberately sing-song manner. He grinned and then seeing Penny behind Ewan, he became serious. ‘You will be the new Detective Constable, I think?’ he said, stepping right up to the counter and extending a hand across it.
‘DC Penny Faversham,’ Ewan introduced, ‘meet Calum Steele, the editor of the West Uist Chronicle. He sniffs out the news like no one else.’
Calum stood straight and puffed out his chest. ‘Oh, we journalists have our ways of picking up information.’
‘Pleased to meet you, Calum,’ Penny replied, shaking his hand. ‘And how exactly did you learn about me?’
Calum tapped the side of his nose. ‘Sorry, it is a golden rule of journalism, DC Faversham, we never reveal our sources,’ he said in his most practised enigmatic manner. Then with a click of his tongue: ‘You’ve arrived on the island in the middle of a tragic happening, of course. I just popped in to see how Angus Mackintosh is bearing up. Is there any news on Vicky Spiers?’
‘Inspector McKinnon took him to see the body and he’s understandably distraught. He insisted on going home. As for Vicky, I have no new information, Calum,’ Ewan replied.
‘Pity. And what about Robbie Ochterlonie? That was a sad case.’ He motioned as if he was about to drink from an invisible glass. ‘Too much whisky, I hear?’
Penny had been warned about Calum by Lorna and understood that he was fishing for information. ‘I’m afraid that we are not in a position to comment yet, Calum. It is an unexpected death and has been referred to the Procurator Fiscal, so we are awaiting the result of the post-mortem examination.’
‘Ah, that’s what I thought. Is Torquil in yet?’
Ewan assured him that he wasn’t.
‘Well, tell him if he wants any more help from the Chronicle to give me a bell.’ He nodded to them. ‘Good to meet you, Penny. I look forward to working with you and getting to know you better.’
Once the newspaperman had gone Ewan gave a short laugh. ‘That’s typical of Calum Steele. He came in just to check you out, you know. If you hadn’t been in the office he’d have had some ploy to get introduced to you. He can be a nuisance, but he’s basically a good lad.’
‘Well, now he knows about me, why don’t we take this opportunity while its quiet to do the same. The boss gave me some tasks to do and I’ve got a five minutes to spare, so how about if I make that tea and you can explain to me about his highland hammer and those murder shoes of yours.’
When Torquil arrived at the station he told Ewan and Penny that he wanted to have a meeting with the team in half an hour.
‘What about the search — will Morag be coming back?’ Ewan asked.
‘No, they’ve found a trainer in mud near the old Strathshiffin Road. There’s a good chance it’s one of Vicky’s, so we’ll need to check. Morag will be moving the search area accordingly. I’m bringing the twins in and we’ll skype Morag.’
Once the Drummond twins arrived back, both dressed in their heavy waterproofs rather than police uniforms, Ewan came in with a tray of mugs of tea.
‘Things have moved on, folks,’ Torquil said, sitting behind his desk and referring to his notebook. ‘Firstly, Lorna called me to say she attended the post-mortem on Jamie Mackintosh. The pathologist has to look at slides and get the results of tests back, but he was convinced that he had only one working kidney, which meant he wasn’t able to clear the methanol and all the toxins from his body. He either vomited and inhaled his vomit, or he choked and then had a fit. Essentially, whatever the prime mechanism, he asphyxiated.’
Penny winced. ‘That’s horrible. He drowned in his own vomit.’
Torquil nodded. ‘And if the bottle from the pillbox is be shown to have contained methyl alcohol then whoever supplied it could be facing a charge of culpable homicide.’
Penny whistled and opened the file in her hands. ‘In that case it really is serious, boss. I checked with Ian Gillesbie, the Senior Scene Examiner and the first results are back. The bottle had an extremely high concentration of methanol in it.’ She ran a finger down the page. ‘They also tested the blood samples that Dr McLelland took and they’ll be testing samples that the pathologist takes straight from the body. They’ll be able to see if it matches, although it sounds as if there isn’t much doubt.’
Wallace was sitting with his arms folded. ‘So this was definitely peatreek?’
‘Looks like it,’ said Torquil.
‘How did they get hold of it?’ Douglas asked.
‘Catriona McDonald told Lorna that Jamie brought it.’
‘And where did he get it from?’ Ewan asked. ‘Does Angus have a still?’
‘That’s what we need to find out, Ewan,’ Torquil replied. ‘There must be several home stills around the island.’
He turned to Penny. ‘Illicit distilling used to be common on the islands. Folk had them on farms, on crofts or on one of the many isles around the coast. We need to find them all and have their whisky confiscated and checked for methanol.’
‘Shall I do that, boss?’ Penny asked.
‘No, Wallace and Douglas can do that. They know the island and they probably have a good idea of who could be distilling.’
Wallace harrumphed. ‘It maybe not so simple, Piper. These days all sorts of folk are distilling spirits. Rum, gin, vodka. You can get the tackle on the internet, no bother.’
Torquil nodded, recollecting only too well his conversation with Lorna about whisky for their wedding favours. ‘Aye, Lorna was talking about this. Artisan gin, she called it. She even knows where to get it on the island. I’ll need to find out from her.’ He turned again to Penny. ‘What I need you to do is find out everything about whisky making, especially illicit whisky and how they make peatreek. Also, delve into the medical details. We need to know all about methanol, its properties, toxic amounts, the works.’
Douglas had been sipping his tea and held the mug up reflectively. ‘This is a really strong cup of tea.’
Ewan beamed. ‘Aye, just the way everyone likes it.’
Douglas tapped the mug with a fingernail. ‘That’s as maybe, but I was thinking that the strength is something that can vary, just as the strength of peatreek must vary. There won’t be any quality control over it.’