‘Was he in a relationship recently, do you know?’
‘Not that I know of. Women were wary of him ever since last year. One of his students, Heather McQueen drowned when she was doing post graduate work with him on West Uist.’
‘Ah, of course. A tragedy.’
‘There were rumours about an improper relationship.’
‘But nothing like that came out at the Fatal Accident Inquiry,’ Morag remarked.
‘Well, it wouldn’t, would it?’
Morag made careful notes of the conversation and then made a list of bullet points to tell Torquil.
She was just about to phone Ewan to ask him to collect Dr Dent’s effects from the mortuary when she opened her diary and she saw Sandy King’s card inside the cover. She felt her cheeks warm and she smiled.
Before she knew what she was doing she had dialled his number. The call was answered even before she had time to change her mind.
‘Sandy King here.’
‘Oh – er – it’s Morag Driscoll.’
‘Hi, Morag, I am glad you rang. When are you free?’
‘It’s not so easy to say, er – Mr King, you see—’
‘My name is Sandy.’ She noticed the amusement in his voice.
‘Sorry – Sandy! It’s the police training. The formality, I mean.’
‘I was kind of hoping that I could get behind that. Find the informal Morag.’
Morag’s hand went to her hair and she started twirling a strand. Goodness, what am I doing here, she thought? I’m like a wee girl. I should just pull the plug before this gets out of hand.
‘Maybe you can,’ she heard herself say. She hesitated and then added, ‘I have to tell you that I was married. I am a widow.’
‘So I believe.’
‘And I have three kids.’
‘I know. I found that out for myself.’
‘And you still—?’
‘I really want to meet up with you, Morag. So, when can we fix it?’
She paused for a moment, then: ‘Tonight at eight. I’ll get my sister to baby-sit. Meet me at Arbuckle’s; it’s a little wine bar-cum-restaurant just off Deuglie Street which you’ll find at the top of Harbour Street. We can get a glass of wine or a beer.’
‘A meal sounds good to me. Eight o’clock it is. I can’t wait. Bye, Morag.’
‘Bye – Sandy.’
Morag stared at her mobile in disbelief. Was it true? Was she really going on a date with Sandy King, The Net-breaker?
She pinched herself to make sure she wasn’t dreaming.
Then her phone went. It was Wallace Drummond with news that brought her back to earth with a crash.
Ewan had taken details from Alice Rogerson at Aberstyle Farm. She had discovered the burglary herself two mornings previously when she came in from helping her husband with the morning milking. It had been a professional job, clinically performed.
‘They must have known precisely when we were out of the house,’ she told him. ‘And they took my grandfather’s collection of tobacco tins, including one that he had when he was in the trenches on the Somme. That was what hurt most. It was sentimental, you see.’
And apart from that they had taken all of her jewellery and her husband’s Omega watch.
After that he had ridden across to Strathcombe, a hamlet of five crofts where three of them had been burgled the night before. And, as in the Rogerson case, they had been niftily done when the owners were all out tending to their crofts.
‘Professionals are at work here,’ Ewan mused as he pedalled into action. ‘That strikes me that they are not local folk then. No one here on West Uist would have any idea about this burgling. I’ll get the others interviewed then get back and see if I can’t see some pattern that will lead me to the culprit.’
He glanced at his watch and decided the best route towards the next case, which was over on the west of the island.
‘Och it will be best to go past Sharkey’s Boot, I am thinking.’ Then he remembered that Rab McNeish lived on Sharkey’s Boot and he had been about to complain of a theft, until he had been scared away by Annie McConville.
‘Torquil is always going on to me about taking initiative. Well, maybe this is just the sort of thing he meant. Maybe Rab McNeish would like me to investigate his theft. He said it was at his house. Antiques!’
He patted the moped’s handlebars. ‘Come on, Nippy, let’s show that initiative. Sharkey’s Boot it is and McNeish’s half-complaint about burglary.’
He had only gone a quarter of a mile when his phone went and he had to stop to answer it.
It was Morag.
‘Ewan, we need you back right away.’
‘But Morag, I think—’
‘And on your way, stop at the mortuary and get a bag from Dr McLelland. He’s expecting you.’
‘But Morag, do you—?’
‘Be quick, Ewan, there’s a pet. Torquil wants me to meet him and the twins at Dr Dent’s cottage, so I need you to look after the station.’
Torquil tied Crusoe to the drain pipe then unlocked the front door with the key found among Dr Dent’s possessions. He patted the dog then stood and turned to the others.
‘Did Ralph say anything else when you phoned him?’ he asked Morag.
‘Just to take water specimens from this tank that the boys saw and any other possible places where he could have been drowned.’
‘In that case, don’t forget the garden pond there,’ suggested Wallace.
Torquil pushed the door open and gingerly stepped inside, carefully examining the floor for any signs of anything unusual.
‘There are scuff marks on the carpet,’ he pointed out. ‘Take care as you come in, folks, and walk round them. Morag you’d better photograph them.’
‘I have all the forensic gear with me, boss. I’ll start taking shots as soon as you say so.’
Torquil nodded and went into the front room that had indeed been decked out as a laboratory. In an umbrella stand were a series of sticks, canes and the broken gossamer insect net that he himself remembered Dr Dent complaining about.
‘Someone has been in here, right enough. They’ve been through his books,’ said Torquil. Then he pointed towards a desk that was littered with papers, journals and print-outs. ‘And it looks as if his paperwork has had a bit of a going through. The question is, was it before or after he was murdered?’
‘I don’t like the atmosphere in this room,’ Douglas said with a shiver. ‘It has an evil feel to it.’
‘And it sounds as if there is running water somewhere,’ added Wallace.
Torquil crossed to the tank and bent to take a closer look at it.
‘Well, this is the sound of running water. There’s a pump that is keeping water flowing. Look there is one pipe coming in and presumably one flowing out. What on earth can this be here for?’
‘Something to do with his midge studies?’ Morag suggested.
‘Maybe,’ Torquil replied and followed the pipes out of a far door that led into a hall.
‘Right enough,’ he said a moment later. ‘There is a pump here from the bath and back again. The bath is full. We’d better have specimens from both the bath and the tank, Morag. Make sure you label clearly which is which.’
‘What do you think, boss?’ Morag asked.
‘I think this is something to do with his midge studies, right enough. Possibly he needed to simulate flowing water, like a river or stream.’
‘Was he drowned here, do you think?’ Douglas asked warily.
Torquil knelt and looked at the pool of water on the floor round the bottom of the tank. He rubbed his chin.