‘Actually, I’m a bit hungry at the moment,’ began Bannerman tentatively. ‘I don’t suppose you could …?’
‘I could do you bacon and eggs.’
Bannerman waited for the mention of an alternative but none came. That would be wonderful,’ he said. ‘I’m most grateful.’
‘Not at all,’ said the woman. ‘We like to make people feel welcome.’
Bannerman’s attempts at holding a conversation with Mrs Ferguson, during his meal, all failed. It wasn’t that she was hostile, just uncommunicative. She did it in such a natural way that Bannerman concluded that he should take nothing personally from the monosyllabic replies. This was the way the woman must behave towards everyone. Tiring of fruitless attempts at small-talk, he got round to the purpose of his visit. ‘I’m looking for a woman called Shona MacLean,’ he confessed. ‘Have you any idea where I might find her?’
‘Follow the crowd, I should think,’ snapped the woman.
I’m sorry?’ replied Bannerman.
That woman is never short of visitors.’ Mrs Ferguson swept crumbs from the table as if they were an invading swarm of killer ants.
Bannerman felt uncomfortable, as he always did in close proximity to domestic frenzy. ‘Does she stay near here?’ he ventured.
The white house with the red door. Appropriate if you ask me.’
Thank you,’ said Bannerman, excusing himself and going upstairs. He tried to see outside from the small window but inky blackness cloaked the village. He would have to wait until morning.
A cold, uncomfortable night was followed by a shave in tepid water and a greasy breakfast of more bacon and eggs. Bannerman packed his bag and said his goodbyes to Mrs Ferguson.
‘I trust we’ll be seeing you here again some time,’ said the woman with as near as she ever came to a smile.
‘I hope so,’ smiled Bannerman, thinking it would be shortly after hell froze over. He walked down the street to the white house with the red door. His knock was answered by a good looking woman in her late twenties; she was wearing jeans, which emphasized her narrow waist and rounded hips, and a shapeless grey tee shirt with a dolphin on it. Her fair hair tumbled round a smiling face that made Bannerman want to smile in return.
‘Hello,’ she said. ‘You’re a new face round here.’
‘I’m looking for Shona MacLean,’ said Bannerman.
‘You’ve found her,’ replied the woman. ‘What can I do for you?’
‘I hope you can help me find Lawrence Gill,’ said Bannerman.
The smile faded, and the woman said, ‘I haven’t seen Lawrence for years. Who are you?’
‘I’m Ian Bannerman. I’m a pathologist and I’m trying to pick up the pieces of what Gill was working on when he ran off.’
‘Ran off?’ exclaimed Shona MacLean.
‘Frankly, Miss MacLean, Gill’s wife told me that he had run off to be with you.’
Shona MacLean’s mouth fell open and she looked genuinely shocked. This came as a surprise to Bannerman. Up till now he thought that Shona MacLean was lying.
‘You’d better come in,’ she said.
Bannerman was shown into a pleasant room that was furnished brightly with an emphasis on pine and chintz. He sat down on a long sofa that lay along the window wall. Shona perched herself on the arm of a large matching chair.
‘Can you prove you are who you say you are?’ asked Shona MacLean.
Bannerman took out his wallet and extracted credit cards, his driving licence and his hospital ID card, which carried a photograph of him. Shona MacLean leaned forward to examine them and handed them back. ‘Do you have a connection with the Medical Research Council?’ she asked.
Bannerman was surprised at the question. ‘It was they who asked me to carry out this investigation,’ he said. ‘Why do you ask?’ He could see that Shona MacLean was hiding something. ‘You have seen Lawrence Gill recently haven’t you?’ he said.
Shona MacLean nodded.
‘He did come here?’
‘Yes, but not for the reason you suppose. Lawrence and I had an affair years ago, but that was all over. He came here because he needed a place to hide.’
To hide?’ exclaimed Bannerman.
‘He was terrified. He said that people were after him and that they would kill him if they caught him.’
‘But why?’
‘He wouldn’t say.’
‘But he’s on the island?’
‘No.’
‘Do you know where he is?’
Shona nodded. ‘He’s hiding on a neighbouring island. It’s uninhabited.’
‘But surely he can’t stay there for ever,’ exclaimed Bannerman. ‘Won’t he be in just as much danger again when he comes off the island?’
‘Lawrence said not. He gave me a parcel to send to the Medical Research Council in London. He said that once they had it, the game would be over and there would be no point in hounding him any more.’
‘A parcel?’
‘Yes.’
‘Did he say what was in it?’
Shona shook her head.
‘Describe it.’
Shona indicated a squarish box with her hands. ‘About a foot square I’d say.’
‘And you sent this parcel off?’
‘I took it to the post office in Cairnish.’
‘When?’
‘The nineteenth.’
‘Can I use your phone?’
‘Of course.’
Bannerman called the MRC in London and asked to speak to Milne. He asked about the parcel.
‘It hasn’t arrived,’ said Milne. ‘What was in it?’
‘I don’t know,’ replied Bannerman. He put down the phone and said, ‘It’s had plenty of time to get there.’
‘I’ll check with the post office,’ said Shona.
Bannerman sat down again while Shona called the post office in Cairnish. She began by exchanging pleasantries with someone called Kirstie. ‘If s about the parcel I brought in on the nineteenth,’ said Shona. “The one for London.’
Bannerman watched the expression on Shona’s face change to one of concern. ‘Dr Gill did?’ she exclaimed. ‘But that’s impossible … No, no, nothing wrong Kirstie. I must have misunderstood something. Don’t worry about it. See you soon.’ Shona put down the phone slowly and Bannerman waited with baited breath for her to speak. The post office say that Lawrence came in later that day to recover the parcel. He showed them proper identification and Kirstie returned the parcel to him.’
‘Is that possible?’ asked Bannerman.
Shona shook her head and said, ‘Lawrence went to the island that day and he’s still there. The boat hasn’t come back, so it couldn’t have been him … but whoever asked for the return of the parcel had Lawrence’s ID … How could that happen?’
Bannerman felt sure that Shona was as capable as he of answering that question.
The implications of what they had just learned hung above Bannerman and Shona like a guillotine. Whoever had been after Gill had found him.
‘You know what was in that parcel don’t you?’ said Shona, thinking she could read the look in Bannerman’s eyes.
‘No,’ replied Bannerman, truthfully, but his mind was lingering over the missing brains. Is that what had happened to them? Had Gill tried to send them to the MRC in London? But why? And who had stopped the parcel being collected? And why, again? All of a sudden he felt afraid. The questions were coming thick and fast and he could think of none of the answers.
SIX
Bannerman followed Shona down the stone steps leading from the harbour wall to the water. He held the little white boat while she got on board and clambered up to the stern to prime the outboard engine.
‘I hope you’re a decent sailor,’ she said. ‘It might be a bit rough out there.’
‘I’ll do,’ replied Bannerman.
Shona pulled the cord for the fourth time and the engine spluttered into life. She gave it a moment or two to warm up and settle down into an even rhythm, then cast off the securing ropes. Bannerman pushed the boat clear of the side and they were off. Gulls wheeled overhead as they cleared the harbour mouth and headed for the open sea with the boat picking up motion as its bow took the waves head on.