Detective Superintendent Ross listened and agreed on Torquil’s conclusions and his proposed plans of action and asked to be kept briefed on all developments.
Both Josephine and DS Ross agreed that he needed to go public on the way the cases were opening up, so Torquil phoned Calum. Both he and Cora were busy writing articles fort the next edition of the Chronicle.
‘It’s bad news, Piper. So you think that poor Robbie was murdered?’
‘Aye, and there is a strong possibility that whoever murdered him is also responsible for poisoning the youngsters at the pillbox. That may mean that they may also have abducted Vicky and be holding her against her will.’
‘Have I your blessing to write it all up, using these terms? As you know, I am not one given to scare-mongering, but this is huge.’
‘You have carte-blanche, Calum.’
‘Then the West Uist Chronicle is at your service. We’ll not let you down, Piper. Oh, and by the way, pass on our best wishes to your fiancé.’
As Torquil put the phone down he realised that Calum had just put in his best man bid. It had inevitably gone out of his mind the last few days and he felt guilty about even thinking of anything else other than the cases in hand, both of which had taken momentous leaps in importance.
His next phone call was to Kirsty Macroon at the Scottish TV newsdesk. As before, they recorded the interview on Torquil’s iPhone, which he then emailed to her.
Following that, he talked with Fearghas Mac an Fhilidh at BBC Alba, the Gaelic language television channel based in Stornoway and after that, with Donald McGregor at the BBC Scotland newsdesk in Glasgow.
Finally, he went back through to the rest room, to find the others clustered around the table tennis table looking at batches of freshly printed photographs of the pillbox, Jamie Mackintosh’s body, Robbie Ochterlonie’s cabin and his body, and all the other photographs appertaining to each case.
‘We were just seeing what we have before we stick them up, Torquil,’ said Morag.
He nodded. ‘Good, we want everything up here. I’ve talked to Superintendent Ross and with Josephine Pengelly and they both agree and know that I’m starting a murder enquiry to run alongside the search for Vicky Spiers. I’m calling this an abduction case. Do you want to tell Lumsden or shall I?’
A half smile crossed Morag’s lips, followed by an emphatic shake of the head. ‘Much as I’d like to, I think I’m in enough trouble with him as it is. Do you mind, Torquil?’
‘No problem. It doesn’t need to be a long call as I’ve too much to do now. I’ll tell him he needs to start knocking on doors.’
Calum and Cora had wasted no time at all.
‘Short, pithy and prompt, that’s what we have to be with these bulletins, Cora. We have to keep ahead of the big TV stations, but remember that we are the main information stream for the island. These little pieces will have everyone eager for the actual paper copy tomorrow. Are you ready?’
‘It’s all loaded up, master.’
‘Then press the button, lassie.’
Moments later, across West Uist the messages, texts and emails beeped, buzzed and rang out, with the three line message in capital letters:
PIPER MCKINNON SAYS ROBBIE OCHTERLONIE WAS MURDERED
HAS VICKY BEEN ABDUCTED?
SEARCH FOR THE DEADLY STILL
As before, readers were given the link to the West Uist Chronicle blog and the details of the cases.
The killer read the West Uist piece with mounting anger. So the plods had stumbled onto something. Planting the second trainer far from the first seemed to have worked. A Super Plod had come over to the island to take over the search, but what could he possibly have found to make the quantum leap about Ochterlonie?
Bugger! Bugger! Bugger!
There was only one thing for it now.
The kid had to be terminated, like the other one.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
‘We need the census records, Penny,’ said Torquil. ‘We need to know who owns or rents every house, barn, shed and chicken shack on the island. Morag, you’ll need to hold Lumsden’s hand on this, so I’ll leave you to liaise with him once we have a listing of all habitations in the area of the first search.’
‘Onto it, boss,’ said Penny, making for her office.
He snapped his fingers. ‘Ah yes, also do some research about methanol. Ralph McLelland said that a lethal dose would be something like 30 mls. And that 10 mls would be enough to affect vision. But normal alcohol counters it, so it would have to be a whole lot more in a bottle to produce that effect. Its making me doubt that these peatreek bottles just happened to contain an unfortunately large amount of foreshot. I’m thinking they were deliberately loaded with methanol. Find out where it can be obtained. Maybe look at where fatalities have occurred.’
Penny stared wide-eyed for a moment then nodded and turned on her heel to her office.
‘Wallace and Douglas,’ Torquil said, ‘I want you to check out Robbie’s cabin. I want you to look for any loose floorboards, hidden panels, anywhere that he might have stored his peatreek.’
‘OK, Piper. And if we find anything?’ Wallace asked.
‘Let me know straight away. I’m going to the Old Hydro to see if the laptop is there. I suspect it won’t be, though. I think the killer or the secret lover will have taken it to destroy incriminating evidence.’
The leg was painful, but Angus was in no mood to allow it to stop him. He’d swallowed several painkillers and washed them down with a mouthful of cold tea. By choice he would have done so with whisky, but he needed to be cold sober. Apart from that, he had lost the taste for the stuff after Jamie’s death.
He had wheeled out Jamie’s mountain bike and rode with some difficulty, but with less pain than he would had he walked. Walking had not been an option, of course, as it was too far from his cottage. The car was also not an option, even if he had gone to collect it, because he didn’t want the sound of its engine to alert the bastard that he was coming. Fortunately, the shop was at the far end of Kyleshiffin and the fog and mizzle were still limiting visibility.
As it was, he arrived at the destination and thought that it looked deserted. The shop had a closed sign on it as did the smokery next door. Nonetheless, he was determined to do what he had planned. He was wearing his work utility belt, with his chisels, screwdrivers and hammer.
He went round the back of the smokery to the sheds that adjoined it. In a matter of moments, he had opened the door and stepped inside.
So I was right! This is where you make the stuff, you evil bugger.
There was a crate of unused bottles and two crates of plain unlabelled bottles full of amber liquid.
He looked at the still and gritted his teeth. It was an old but clearly well worked apparatus, consisting of a large copper pot the size of a washing-machine raised up on a heavy trestle table. A bulbous section at the top led to the spout which fed into a coiled tube that connected with a collecting apparatus of some sort. Underneath the trestle was a large tank, which was itself connected to pipes leading into the shed from the smokery next door.