‘Hush now, the best thing to do is to get down to the work. So let’s have all we know about this break-in.’
‘I’ve dusted and there are our prints all over, but nothing new. I don’t think Penny can have been near the things that were stolen.’
‘So whoever did it wore gloves and they knew what they were doing,’ said Torquil. ‘Quick entry then straight to the alarm and cut the wires to the sirens. The things that were stolen, do they make any sense?’ He looked at the list of things that Morag and Ewan had compiled before Superintendent Lumsden descended upon them. ‘It seems a pretty eclectic mix. The worrying thing is that the stuff found on the search has been taken, especially Vicky’s trainer.’
‘Aye,’ said Ewan. ‘Is Superintendent Lumsden right? Have we some nutter on the island? I can’t really think of who else would do such a thing.’
Torquil moved towards the corridor. ‘I’ll give Calum a ring about sending one of his emails out to tell folk that the search has been moved six miles away and ask him to tell folk where to go for the start of the new search. While I do that, Ewan please get the photographs and let’s make sure about the second trainer.’
Penny knocked on Torquil’s office door and came in upon his call.
At his invitation she sat down and opened her notebook. ‘I’ve spoken to Ian Gillesbie as you told me to. He’s had most of the results back and he’s going to email them to me. He also said that Dr Lamont had done the histology on the tissue samples and looked over all of the results on the body fluids, so he suggested that I speak to him directly, which I did. To be honest, he was a bit curt and started off saying that he had wanted to talk to Sergeant Golspie, since he liked to have continuity.’
Torquil shrugged. ‘I guess that you need to like method and order if you are going to be a good forensic pathologist.’
‘Well, he said he’d give me his overall assessment, but would be writing up a detailed report for the Procurator Fiscal. Further to his post-mortem findings he said that Robbie Ochterlonie died as a result of a fall while under the influence of alcohol, both ethanol and methanol. The level of methanol in his blood was really high, probably lethal. The levels in his aqueous and vitreous humours in his eyes were also high. The stomach had probably contained a whole bottle of whisky, of high methanol content. His blood sugar was in his boots, as the result of insulin, since he was a type 1 diabetic.’
‘So he’d injected himself, thinking his sugar was too high and that he could fall into a coma?’
Penny nodded. ‘Possibly injecting too much and then either fallen after having a fit, or had a fit and fallen, sustaining the facial injury and the contrecoup head injury when he hit the floor.’
Torquil whistled. ‘A grim way to go. So what about the peatreek samples from the stills. Did Ian Gillesbie have any information there?’
Penny turned the pages to a marker. ‘Yes. None of them had anything but a negligible amount of methanol. They bore no resemblance to the liquids from the two bottles. Ian didn’t think there was any chance that they came from any of those stills.’
‘So it looks like the deadly still is still out there?’
Penny nodded. ‘Yes, boss.’
‘Ok, let me see the forensic reports when Ian Gillesbie sends them over.’
Calum and Cora wasted no time in writing another digital special, which found its way into the inboxes of people’s emails all over the island.
It read:
THIRD DAY AND STILL NO VICKY
SECOND TRAINER FOUND
SEARCH MOVED
Then followed details of the trainer and its location on the West Coast Road along with the invitation to join the search under the direction of Superintendent Kenneth Lumsden.
One of the first to read the blog, the killer smiled.
Torquil refused Ewan’s offer of tea.
‘I think I need some air, Ewan. I’ll go for a ride on the Bullet and I’ll be back soon. I’m on my phone if you need me.’
It was not long after he had gone that Penny came out of her office, only to be greeted by Ewan bearing a tray with mugs of his strong, near stewed tea. She suppressed a grimace and accepted it with a smile.
‘Did I hear the boss go out?’ she asked.
‘Aye, Penny. He’s gone for some air.’
Morag came through and took a mug. ‘He had that look on his face,’ she volunteered. ‘You’ll get to recognise it, Penny. It’s a pensive one, so I expect he’s gone to do what he does when he has a problem.’
‘What exactly is that?’
‘He’s gone to play his pipes,’ Morag replied.
Which is exactly what Torquil had done. He had ridden the Bullet out to St Ninian’s cave and crunched his way over the shingle to play in the cathedral-like cavern. He was troubled. More troubled than he had been for a long time, not just because of the pillbox tragedy, but because something was not right.
In the cave he began to play his pipes. He played a number of his favourite pieces, just as they came into his head. And as he played snatches of music, almost stream of consciousness fashion, he ran through the words of the songs in his mind.
Then he started to play Loch Lomond:
By yon bonnie banks and by yon bonnie braes
Where the sun shines bright on Loch Lomon’
Where me and my true love were ever wont tae gae
On the bonnie, bonnie banks o’ Loch Lomon’
And as he played, the lyrics running through his mind, he started to get a strange prickling feeling run up and down his spine.
Oh you tak’ the high road and I’ll tak’ the low road
An’ I’ll be in Scotland afore ye,
But me and my true love will never meet again
On the bonnie, bonnie banks o’ Loch Lomon’
He suddenly let the blow pipe drop from his lips and he chopped the bag to silence the instrument. ‘That’s it. The high road and the low road. High and low!’
He left the cave, muttering his thanks to it for granting him enlightenment as he played and jogged across the shingle and seaweed to climb up onto the roadside and the layby where the Bullet was parked.
Stowing his pipes in the pannier he straddled the machine and pulled out his phone to make an urgent call to the station.
‘Morag, I’m coming in shortly, but I just need to go somewhere first. Get the twins to come in, I need the old team together. Let’s do what we do best.’
He hung up before she could question him further. Moments later he was opening up the throttle and accelerating along the headland road, the noise of the engine sending flocks of herring gulls seawards towards the safety of the familiar stacks and skerries.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
‘Where’s Penny?’ Torquil asked Morag when he returned to the station.
‘She’s in her office, boss. The Drummonds are on their way in. What is it? I can see you’ve got that look on your face.’
‘I’ll tell you soon, Morag. Call me when the whole team is here.’
Penny came out of her office upon hearing his voice.
‘Ian Gillesbie sent through the reports, boss. I’ve printed them out and put them on your desk.’