Her happiness was infectious. I found myself envying Strachan his marriage. It made me uncomfortably aware of how much Jenny and I had been drifting apart lately.
‘Here you go,’ she said, sliding the omelette on to a plate. ‘Help yourself to bread and butter.’
I sat down and started to eat. The omelette was delicious, and I’d just finished the last mouthful when the kitchen door opened, letting in a blast of wind and rain. The golden retriever shot in, dripping water, and bounded excitedly over to me. I tried to fend it off one-handed.
‘No, Oscar!’ Grace ordered. ‘Michael, I’m sure David doesn’t want muddy paw prints all over him. Oh, and look, you’re as bad, you’re tracking mud everywhere!’
Strachan had followed the dog inside. With him was the man in the army-surplus peaked cap I’d seen ushering the pupils into the school the day before.
‘Sorry, darling, but I still can’t find my bloody wellingtons. Oscar, behave yourself. You’ve blotted your copybook with Dr Hunter enough as it is.’ Strachan pulled the dog from me and gave me a grin. ‘Glad to see you’re up and about, David. This is Bruce Cameron.’
The other man had taken off his hat, revealing a shaved head of ginger stubble, thinning in the classic shape of male pattern baldness. He was short and slight, with the scrawniness of a marathon runner and an Adam’s apple so prominent it looked about to break through the skin.
He had been watching Grace since they’d come in. Now he looked at me with the palest eyes I’d ever seen. They were an indefinable non-colour, with the whites visible all the way round, so that he seemed to have a permanent stare.
I saw him take in my empty plate. An expression that could have been anger flitted across his face, then was gone.
‘Thanks for taking care of my shoulder last night,’ I said, offering my hand. His was thin and bony, and there was no return pressure when we shook.
‘I was glad to help.’ The voice was a surprise, deep and booming, a stentorian shock coming from such a slight frame. ‘I gather you’re out here to take a look at the body that’s been found.’
‘Don’t bother asking him anything about that,’ Strachan cut in easily. ‘I’ve already had my wrist slapped once for quizzing him.’
Cameron looked as though he didn’t appreciate the advice. ‘How’s the shoulder feeling?’ he asked, but without any real interest.
‘Better than it was.’
He nodded, managing to seem bored and self-satisfied at the same time. ‘You were lucky. You’ll need to have it X-rayed when you get back to the mainland, but I don’t think there’s any serious ligament damage.’
He made it sound as though I’d only have myself to blame if there were. Reaching into his pocket, he took out a small bottle of pills and set them on the table.
‘These are ibuprofen. Anti-inflammatories. You might not need them now, but you will when the last of the sedative’s worn off.’
‘Sedative?’
‘You were rambling and your shoulder muscles were badly in spasm, so I gave you one to calm things down a little.’
That explained why I didn’t remember him working on my shoulder. And why I’d slept through most of the day.
‘What was it?’ I asked.
‘Don’t worry, I’m licensed to prescribe drugs.’ He glanced at Grace, with a half-smile I thought was meant to be self-deprecating but just looked smug. He’d made no offer to examine my shoulder, but then I was starting to think I wasn’t the real reason for his visit anyway.
‘Even so, I’d still like to know what it was,’ I said.
I didn’t want to seem churlish, but ever since I was almost killed by a deliberate overdose of diamorphine I’ve never liked being given drugs without knowing what they are. Besides, Cameron’s patronizing manner was starting to grate.
For the first time he seemed to fully register my presence. The look he gave me wasn’t friendly.
‘If you must know, I gave you ten milligrams of diazepam and anaesthetised locally with novocaine. Then I administered a shot of cortisone to reduce inflammation.’ He stared at me superciliously. ‘Does that meet with your approval?’
Strachan had been listening with amusement. ‘Did I mention that David used to be a GP, Bruce?’
He obviously hadn’t. Cameron blushed, and I regretted pushing. I hadn’t intended to embarrass him. At the same time, I wondered how Strachan knew. Not that it was a secret, but I wasn’t sure I liked relative strangers to know so much about my past.
He gave me an apologetic smile. ‘I did some checking up on the Internet. Hope you don’t mind, but I’m congenitally nosy when it comes to anything that affects Runa. And it is all public record.’
He was right, but that didn’t mean I liked his digging into my background. Still, he had taken me into his house the night before. I supposed he was entitled to display some curiosity.
‘I’ve been showing Bruce where the pens are going to be for my new project. Runa’s first fish farm,’ Strachan went on. ‘Atlantic cod. Organic, eco-friendly, and it’ll create at least six jobs. More, if it takes off.’ His enthusiasm was almost boyish. ‘Could be a real boost for the island’s economy. I plan to make a start in the spring.’
Grace had begun to debone a chicken, cutting the flesh with the practised ease of a chef. ‘I’m still not sure I’m keen on having a fish farm at the bottom of the garden.’
‘Darling, I’ve told you, there’s nowhere else sheltered enough on the island. And we’ve got the sea at the bottom of the garden anyway. It’s full of fish.’
‘Yes, but they’re visitors. These’ll be house guests.’
Cameron gave a sycophantic laugh. I saw a flash of irritation on Strachan’s face, then the rap of the door knocker came from the hallway.
‘We’re popular this afternoon,’ Grace said. She reached for a towel to dry her hands, but Strachan was already on his way out.
‘I’ll get it.’
‘Perhaps it’s one of your policeman friends,’ she said to me, as voices carried from the hall.
I hoped so. But instead of Duncan or Fraser, it was Maggie Cassidy Strachan had in tow when he returned.
‘Look who’s turned up,’ he said, with the faintest touch of irony. ‘You know Maggie, Rose Cassidy’s granddaughter, don’t you, Grace?’
‘Of course.’ Grace smiled. ‘How is your grandmother?’
‘Oh, muddling along, thanks. Hello, Bruce,’ Maggie said, receiving a grudging nod in return. She turned to me with a grin. ‘Nice to see you still in one piece, Dr Hunter. I heard about your adventure last night. You were quite the talk of the bar.’
I bet I was, I thought ruefully.
‘So what brings you out here, Maggie?’ Strachan asked. ‘Hoping for an exclusive with Dr Hunter?’
‘Actually, it was you I wanted to see. And Mrs Strachan as well, obviously,’ Maggie added smoothly. She was looking at him with open-eyed candour, the picture of sincerity. ‘I’d like to write a feature on you for the Lewis Gazette. With Runa being in the news now, it’s the perfect time. We can talk about what you’ve done for the island, take a few photos of you both at home. It’ll make a great spread.’
Strachan’s good humour had faded. ‘Sorry. I take a lousy photo.’
‘Oh, come on, darling,’ Grace cajoled. ‘Sounds like fun.’
Cameron’s bass voice rumbled out. ‘Yes, I think it’s a great idea, Michael. I’m sure Grace is very photogenic, even if you aren’t. And it’d be good publicity for the fish farm.’
‘That’s right,’ Maggie said, pushing home her advantage. She gave Strachan the full wattage of her smile. ‘And I’ll bet you take a great photograph.’
I noticed Grace’s eyebrow go up at the reporter’s blatant flirting. Although Maggie wasn’t conventionally pretty, there was an energy about her that was undeniably attractive.
But Strachan seemed immune. ‘No, I don’t think so.’
‘At least think about it for a day or two. Perhaps-’