‘A strange question, but yes, he is.’
‘And he would have access to all sorts of chemicals, like the methanol you put into the bottles of peatreek. The one that the teenagers drank from and the other that certainly had a part to play in Robbie Ochterlonie’s death.’
Helen Beamish’s jaw dropped and then she gave a short laugh and sat forward, resting her hands on the desk. ‘I don’t believe you’ve just said that. It must be the strain you’ve been under, Morag. Your brain has blown a fuse.’ She shook her head, then added, ‘You do realise that I can take legal action for defamation?’
‘I’m right, am I not? That you obtained methanol from Romania.’
Helen frowned. ‘Where have you gotten this nonsensical idea?’
‘Is it nonsensical? All those times when you kept asking me how the search was going I had thought you were genuinely concerned. What you were actually doing was making sure that we were not getting close to finding Vicky. So, tell me now, where is she?’
‘You are mad, Morag. Why would I kidnap a teenage girl?’
‘That’s what I mean to find out and that’s why I’d like you to come to the station with me right now. Inspector McKinnon will want to interview you and take a statement.’
Helen stood too, but as she did so her hand darted into a drawer and pulled out a gun. She smiled. ‘How on earth you worked any of this out is irritating, but I really haven’t time to waste going to the station. I’m not going to make any statement.’ She nodded at the gun. ‘This, by the way, is far more lethal than methanol, so just sit down and have a drink.’
Morag sat as directed, warily eyeing the gun pointed at her chest. ‘I’m not thirsty.’
Helen gave a short laugh. ‘Oh, I insist. You see, I have some very good alcohol that turns peatreek into a very special drink.’
With one hand she opened the drawer further and took out an unlabelled bottle of clear liquid. She pulled out the cork and set the bottle down. She poured some into a tumbler and pushed it towards Morag. ‘There you are. Good Romanian pure methanol. It’s a little sweet, I understand, but mixed with peatreek it is apparently delicious. And very potent.’ Her expression hardened. ‘Now drink!’
‘I could tip it out.’
‘Then it will be a bullet through your head instead. Now drink.’
Morag lifted the glass and took a sip.
‘A proper drink. A good swig, Morag,’ Helen ordered, holding the gun firmly in her hand.
Morag obeyed and grimaced. ‘I don’t like whisky at the best of times.’
‘You’ll find this rather strong, but soon you’ll not care. It’s quite moreish. That’s what Robbie thought when he drank his peatreek that I added this to. He was a seasoned drinker and he loved it.’
‘Were you his secret lover?’
Helen Beamish screwed up her face. ‘I wouldn’t exactly say I was his lover. I had sex with him, but there was no love involved. I had no choice.’
‘I don’t understand. You had regular sex with him?’
‘Several times. Fairly kinky sex actually, but you don’t really need to know the details. Suffice to say that I insisted on only two things. No kissing and always with a condom.’ She waved the gun. ‘Drink again. Another big swig.’
Morag acquiesced, feeling the liquid burn the back of her throat and give a warm sensation as it hit her stomach. She started to feel light-headed.
‘I think if you had regular sex with him that makes you his lover?’
Helen shook her head impatiently. ‘Of course it doesn’t. The bastard was blackmailing me to sleep with him. He found out that I was syphoning off finances from some of the residents. He was quite shrewd actually. He worked out that I had been doing it for years, not just with them, but with lots of clients. All he wanted was for me to be his sex slave, so we would meet in his cabin, drink a little and have sex, however he liked it. He used to smirk and call me his dirty little secret, which I was. Then my actual lover started to get jealous.’
‘Cameron, you mean?’
Helen laughed. ‘Cameron! How ridiculous. We barely ever have sex.’ She pointed at the glass. ‘Finish it this time.’
Morag realised that her hand was starting to tremble. ‘Will … will this kill me?’
Helen shrugged. ‘Not straight away. But you’ll soon pass out, just like Robbie did. Of course, he didn’t know that I’d found where he had his peatreek delivered. The fool stored it outside in his old lobster pots. I obtained a good supply of methanol from my dear brother-in-law. You’ve no idea how simple it was to have it sent over to me. He was quite happy to let me have it from his lab, in exchange for sexual favours whenever I visit my sister.’
‘You are a truly disgusting woman!’
Helen laughed and nodded. ‘That may be true, but men seem to like that.’ Lifting the bottle, she refilled the tumbler. ‘Now drink.’
With a trembling hand Morag raised the glass and drank. She struggled to focus as her vision started to go slightly blurred. ‘But the peatreek didn’t kill Robbie, did it?’
‘No. He was pretty drunk already, but after we had sex he drank more until he passed out. That was when I injected all of his insulin. Then I dragged him through from the bedroom, shoved a nasogastric tube down his throat and poured the rest of the peatreek down into his stomach. There was a bit of regurgitation and then he had a spectacular convulsion. He may have been dead from that, but I like to think it was when I smashed his face on the floor that he actually shuffled off his mortal coil. Then I cleared everything up.’
‘Like his laptop and the used condom?’
‘Of course. There was nothing on the laptop, but I couldn’t risk it falling into anyone’s hands.’
‘And how did the teenagers get hold of it?’
‘Ah, that was a mistake, I admit. I had doctored three bottles and left them in his lobster pot. One of the kids must have found one and taken it, I guess. Otherwise, I have no idea.’
‘But when you heard about the teenagers at the pillbox you panicked?’
‘Bloody right I did. That’s why I sent lover-boy to search for Vicky Spiers. Fortunately, he found her and took her to one of our love-nests. We were planning on keeping her alive, just subdued with whisky until we decided where to take her and release her. Of course, that can’t happen now. She’s being terminated before we go.’
Morag gasped. ‘You murderous bitch!’
‘You just finish that drink. All of it this time.’
Morag raised the glass again. ‘You’ll never get away. This is an island and we’ll block any route.’
‘You mean you would if you were alive. Which right now is not looking likely.’ Helen pointed the gun at the glass. ‘Down the hatch. You know, you really shouldn’t drink on duty. That’s what they’ll say when they find you after the road accident, when you drive over a cliff into the sea.’
Suddenly the door burst open and Cameron Beamish rushed in, a shotgun braced against his shoulder. ‘You filthy cow! Put that gun down. You’re even worse than I thought you were, but I’ve heard everything.’
Helen Beamish did not seem at all fazed. She continued to point the gun unwaveringly at Morag.
‘Well, well, Cameron. Some gumption from you at last. I thought your little fling with Kathleen would be the limit of your capability, but here you are with your father’s old Purdey. It hasn’t been fired in thirty years, so put it down before you hurt yourself. You wouldn’t have the nerve anyway.’
‘Why, Helen?’ he demanded. ‘Why all this, when I gave you everything.’
She laughed. ‘Because I hate you, you snivelling worm. I was going to leave you and let you see how you got on with that tart Kathleen, but I see that I’ll have to —’