Death of a Bore (16 page)

‘You’ll never believe me.’ Angus sat down on the bed and began to cry.

Hamish waited impassively until he had recovered and said, ‘Try me.’

Angus gulped and then said, ‘It was after the murder. I had a day off and I thought I’d play detective and have a look around the cottage and see if I could find anything. You see, I
knew you’d been good about keeping quiet about us going up there, but I thought it’d come out sooner or later and I wanted to see if there was anything I could find.’

‘Wasn’t there a policeman on duty?’

‘No. I looked in the window and saw the computer. I began to think of taking it. I ran into debt not so long ago and I sold my computer. I thought, the police don’t want it;
it’s sitting there doing nothing. I looked around. There was no one about.’

‘How did you get in? I mean, surely the place was locked up?’

‘I thought he might have a spare key somewhere. I searched in the gutter, which is where most folks leave the spare key, and there it was. I let myself in. I wanted to check my
e-mails.’

‘Man, there’s several cybercafés in Strathbane you could have used.’

‘But don’t you see? Nobody wanted that one. It was just sitting there.’

‘Go on.’

‘I read some of my e-mails and then sent some off to friends. But after I left, I kept thinking what a waste of a computer it was.’

‘Surely you must have considered you were contemplating committing theft.’

‘John Heppel wasnae married, and he hadn’t left a will. It would all go to the state.’

‘How did you find that out?’

‘A policeman told someone in the village, and the news went around.’

‘Didn’t come as far as me.’

‘I thought I’d go back and take it. I hadn’t locked the door. So I went back, but I looked in the window first and I saw you there and I panicked. I thought you’d find my
e-mails and know I’d been using it and I’d go to prison. There was an empty wine bottle by the door. I just meant to give you a tap on the head, but I hit you harder by mistake. I took
the computer and ran.’

‘Angus, I am going to have to charge you with assaulting a police officer, theft, removing vital evidence from the scene of a crime, and take you to Strathbane, where no doubt they will
charge you with murder as well. Now, did you erase stuff from that computer?’

‘No, there was nothing on it.’

‘Do you have a criminal record?

Angus hung his head. ‘Yes.’

‘What for?’

‘I was just a lad, fifteen. I hacked into the Ministry of Defence computer system.’

‘There was nothing in the press. I would have remembered.’

‘It was all hushed up. They didn’t want anyone to know how easy I had found it. They took me away somewhere and grilled me for days. By the time they’d finished with me, I
swore to God I’d never do anything like that again. I was living in Dumfries at the time. I moved all the way up here and got a job in the forestry.’

Hamish stared at him for a long moment. ‘Have you the ability to get into the hard drive of that computer and rescue the files?’

‘Yes, but I didn’t!’

‘Wait a bit. I’m thinking. You can’t get on the Internet here. There’s no phone in your room.’

‘I havenae dared touch the machine since I stole it.’

Hamish was in a quandary. He did not think that Angus had murdered John. But if he took him in for assault and the theft of that computer, he knew Angus might also be charged with the murder.
The police would figure that anyone who could attack a policeman must be a murderer as well.

‘When the police asked you where you were on the evening of the murder,’ asked Hamish, ‘what did you say?’

‘The truth. I was at the writing class with the others when Perry burst in with the news John was dead.’

‘And before that?’

‘Here. In this room. I’ve got an old typewriter. It’s over there in the cupboard. I was using that to write.’

‘Can Mrs Dunne confirm that?’

‘She was out all day, and no one else is staying here at the moment.’

Hamish was silent for a few moments. Then he said, ‘I hate you for putting me in the hospital.’

‘I’m awfy sorry.’

Hamish took a deep breath. What he was about to suggest could lose him his job and get him charged with police obstruction if it ever came to light.

‘Have you any holidays owing?’

‘Two weeks.’

‘Take them now. I want you to come to the police station and work hard at getting into that hard drive. If you speak about it to anyone, then you are going to go to prison and I am going
to lose my job.’

Angus wiped his tear-streaked face with his cuff. ‘You’d do that for me?’

‘Laddie, if you weren’t any use to me, I’d have you off to Strathbane so fast your feet wouldn’t touch the ground. I need to know what’s in that computer. Pack up a
bag in the morning and report to the police station. I’ll take the computer. I’ll need to put an extra lock on the kitchen door and take away the spare key. Too many people just walk
in. I’ll put a lock on the office door as well. Don’t answer the telephone and don’t come out of the office until you’re sure I’m alone.’

‘Thanks. I don’t know how –’

‘Oh, just shut up, you daft nerd. Give me the computer.’

Angus went and lifted it out. He wrapped it in a plastic shopping bag. Hamish rose and tucked it under his arm.

‘Nine o’clock tomorrow,’ he ordered.

Matthew felt happy as the small boat they had chartered chugged out through the oily waters of Strathbane docks towards Standing Stones Island. Not for the first time, he
wondered why anyone would want to become a policeman. All those dreary interviews, over and over again.

He could see Freda was enjoying herself as well, her pointed face lit up with excitement.

‘Thank goodness it’s calm,’ she shouted to him over the noise of the engine. ‘I’m sure it can get very rough out here.’

Huge stars blazed above them. One never notices stars in the city, thought Matthew.

The island loomed up bathed in bright moonlight. It was really just a small rocky hill but with a circle of standing stones on its crest.

‘I’ll be back for ye in the morning,’ said the boatman.

‘Don’t be late,’ urged Freda. ‘I’ve got to be at work at nine.’

Matthew had an uneasy feeling that he shouldn’t have paid the whole fare in advance. The boatman was a surly, criminal-looking fellow. What if he didn’t come back for them?

Too late now, he thought as he and Freda hoisted rucksacks on to their shoulders and climbed up to the ring of stones, which looked like great black fingers pointing up to the beauty of the
night sky.

After they had found a slab of masonry to sit on and were drinking Freda’s contribution of coffee and Matthew’s of whisky, they chatted about this and that until they fell
silent.

Matthew began to wonder what on earth he could write. And then he began to feel uneasy. He had never considered himself oversensitive or imaginative, but he began to feel the island didn’t
want them there. It was as if dislike were emanating from the very ground.

‘I read up on this place,’ he said, breaking the silence. ‘It used to be joined to the land.’

Freda shivered and edged closer to him. ‘It’s getting colder.’

‘Why don’t we get into our sleeping bags and have another drink?’ suggested Matthew.

‘Good idea.’

They snuggled into their sleeping bags. Matthew could feel that odd dislike strengthening into hatred as he sat beside Freda, wrapped in his sleeping bag. ‘Do you feel anything odd?’
he asked Freda.

‘Like what?’

Matthew gave an uneasy laugh. ‘As if this place hates us?’

‘There’s something creepy,’ said Freda. ‘What was that?’ She clutched Matthew.

‘What? What is it?’

‘I saw something white out of the corner of my eye.’

‘Probably a gull. They never seem to go to sleep.’

‘Maybe.’

‘Oh, hell.’ Matthew took another slug of whisky. ‘The wind’s getting up.’

Freda looked up at the sky. Long fingers of clouds were beginning to stream across the night sky, obliterating the stars.

I can’t write about any of this, thought Matthew. I can’t write about feelings. If I write that the island hated us, the news editor will suggest a visit to the nearest rehab.

‘Do you think,’ said Freda in a trembling voice, ‘that it might be a good idea if we just cuddled up together and went to sleep?’

‘This stone we’re sitting on,’ said Matthew, shifting uneasily. ‘Do you think it might have been some sort of altar?’

‘I tell you what,’ said Freda. ‘Let’s get out of this circle and camp on the beach.’

They struggled out of their sleeping bags and then hauled their belongings down to the beach. Matthew shone his torch and found a flat area of springy turf. ‘This’ll do. Let’s open up
the sleeping bags and make a double blanket.’

Soon they lay clasped in each other’s arms as close as lovers. That odd feeling of hate had gone.

The area of grass they were lying on was shielded by an outcrop of rock. Lulled by whisky and the sound of the sea, they fell asleep.

Matthew was awakened by Freda shaking his shoulder. ‘Wake up!’ she hissed. ‘Listen!’

They could hear faint cries above the steady throb of an engine. ‘If that’s a boat, maybe they can take us into Strathbane,’ said Freda.

‘I’d better have a look first.’

Matthew made his way up to the standing stones. He could see the lights of a large boat of some kind out to sea. He nipped back to Freda. ‘I’ve got some night-vision binoculars in my
rucksack.’

‘What is it?’

‘Nothing supernatural. A ship out to sea.’

Matthew found his binoculars and went back to the standing stones. He focussed the binoculars on the large boat. He now saw a smaller fishing boat riding alongside it, rising and falling on the
waves. Packages were being unloaded on to the fishing boat.

Maybe it’s drugs, he thought. Maybe I’ve got a story, after all.

A tap on the shoulder made him yelp with terror. He turned round. ‘Freda! You nearly frightened me to death.’

‘We’re safe!’ said Freda excitedly. ‘There’s a boat on the other side coming out to the island.’

‘I think they’re drug runners,’ said Matthew. ‘We’ve got to get back to our stuff and hide it and ourselves.’

Freda clutched him and whimpered. ‘I’m terrified. I want to go home.’

‘Shhh! I’ll look after you. Come on. We’ve got to hide our stuff before that other boat gets here.’

They crept down to their sleeping bags and stuffed them back in the rucksacks. ‘If we hide behind the standing stones, they won’t see us,’ said Matthew. ‘The wind’s
gone down a bit, so we’ll get off all right in the morning.’

They made their way back to the stone circle. Matthew covered their rucksacks with grass and seaweed. He took out his mobile phone and dialled Elspeth’s number.

‘I’m on Standing Stones Island,’ he said. He told her about the boats. ‘I think they’re drug running. Tell the police at Strathbane and cover the story from your
end.’

Elspeth phoned Hamish Macbeth.

‘I may not get to Strathbane in time if that’s where they’re headed, but I’ll call headquarters and they can get the coastguard out,’ said Hamish.

Matthew and Freda stood behind one of the pillars and listened. They heard the boat Freda had seen and then the sound of the other boat circling the island to join it.

‘Damn,’ muttered Matthew. ‘I must see what they’re doing.’

‘Don’t leave me,’ pleaded Freda.

He gave her a quick kiss. ‘Just stay here and you’ll be fine.’

He moved from the cover of one stone to another until he was looking down at the half-ruined jetty where they had landed. He raised his binoculars to his eyes. They seemed to be sharing out the
packages. He concentrated on them.

Cigarettes!

Well, it wasn’t drugs, but it was something.

Freda leaned against a standing stone and wished with all her heart that Matthew would come back. And then she heard weird singing: an eerie chant that rose and fell. Her nerve broke, and she
ran to where Matthew was hiding, shouting, ‘Help! Help!’

Matthew whirled round. ‘Freda, for God’s sake, keep your voice down.’

‘I heard singing,’ she said. ‘Awful ghostly singing.’

‘One of the men’s playing Gaelic tunes on the radio.’

A powerful torch shone on them and a brutal voice ordered, ‘Get your hands up!’

Rough hands dragged them down to the jetty. The men all had their faces covered with black ski masks.

‘I am a reporter with the
Daily Bugle
,’ said Matthew desperately.

The leader, or the man who appeared to be the leader, stepped forward. ‘Get them aboard. We’ll tip them over the side when we’re far enough out.’

Guns were shoved in their backs and they were propelled aboard one of the boats.

They were tied up and placed side by side on the deck. Freda was sobbing with fear.

‘Do we weigh them down with something?’ a voice asked.

‘No, they’ll be dead of cold, and they can’t swim with their arms and legs tied.’

‘Freda,’ whispered Matthew, ‘if we ever get out of this alive, I’ll make it up to you. I can’t tell them about the police knowing, or they might just shoot
us.’

‘They’re going to drown us anyway,’ wailed Freda.

‘Right,’ they heard the leader say. ‘This is far enough. Throw them over the side.’

Hands dragged them to their feet.

And then one of them shouted, ‘Coastguard!’

The boat was suddenly bathed in blinding white light from a helicopter overhead, and across the waves towards them surged two police boats and two coastguard vessels.

‘Do we shoot it out, guv?’ asked one.

‘No, chuck all the guns over the side. Untie that pair. They’ll try to do us for attempted murder, but we can all swear we were just trying to frighten them.’