She spun round and fired, hitting him in the chest.
Cameron’s body jolted backwards but he kept his feet. He lowered the shotgun and stared disbelievingly at the expanding patch of blood on his shirt. Then he staggered back against the wall and started to slide down.
Helen stepped towards him. ‘You fool! You ruin everything. Now I’m going to have to make this look as if you lost your bottle and turned a shotgun on yourself. If only —’
She didn’t finish for Morag launched herself at her, grasping her arm and slamming it down on the desk, causing the solicitor to scream in pain and release the gun. Morag followed it up with an elbow to her face that broke her nose and caused blood to gush from her nostrils.
But Morag’s movements were slow and she was staggering after her exertion. Helen Beamish punched her in the face, causing her to fall back into the chair. Then Helen grabbed the gun and swivelled to point it at Morag’s face.
‘You interfering bloody —’
There was a sudden explosion and Helen was thrown across the room in a huge shower of blood as Cameron discharged both barrels of the Purdey.
Morag stared in horror at the mangled body, knowing that the woman was dead. She stood and turned to see Cameron’s head slump down as he passed out, the shotgun falling across his lap. After staunching his wound as best she could she ran through into the sitting room and by the fireplace she shoved fingers down her throat to make herself sick. She heaved copious amounts into the empty fireplace and then pushed herself up and made for the side table upon which were several decanters of spirits.
‘God, please make this work,’ she muttered, pulling out the stopper from the whisky decanter and drinking mouthful after mouthful.
Staggering back to Helen Beamish’s office with the decanter in one hand she felt for a pulse on what was left of Helen’s body, but was unable to detect one. Picking up the telephone on the desk she called the station.
‘Kyleshiffin Police Station,’ came Calum Steele’s voice. ‘How may I help you? I’m afraid all of our officers are busy at the moment.’
‘It’s … me, Calum,’ she said, her voice heavily slurred. ‘Is Torquil there?’
‘No, it’s just Cora and myself. It’s — er — not been busy, but your Superintendent phoned. He wasn’t too happy that I was left in charge. He said he’d have —’
‘Never mind that, Calum. I … need you to ring … Doctor McLelland. And ring the others. I … I need help. One death … one badly wounded patient … and me.’
‘Where are you, Morag. I’ll come myself.’
‘At the … Beamish house. You … stay and mind … the station. You’re very special … you and Cora...’
Morag hung up and took another hefty swig from the decanter before slumping into the chair and passing out.
Vicky swerved to her left, expecting the advancing figure to try to block her so that the man she was fleeing from could catch her. Together they would drag her back to that place and…
But the figure passed her and went straight for her pursuer. She stumbled through a puddle in her bare feet and slipped, landing on her face in the water. She pushed herself up and turned just in time to see the figure from the mist punch the other several times, causing him to fall down in a crumpled heap.
‘It’s all right, Vicky. It’s me, Inspector McKinnon,’ said the man, turning. ‘Just stay there a moment while I handcuff this swine. Don’t worry about him, he’s out cold and can’t hurt you.’
Scarcely believing that she was out of danger, Vicky sat up in time to see Torquil handcuffing the unconscious gallery owner, Nathan Westwood.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
‘We are glad to see you out of hospital, Morag,’ said Torquil as the West Uist team sat in the rest room the day after.
‘I’m glad to be out, boss. I can’t say that I like this hangover, though. Why people willingly drink vast amounts of whisky is beyond me.’
‘You’ll be pleased to hear that Catriona McDonald is being discharged home from the Western Isles Hospital today. Her vision is almost completely back.’
‘What about Vicky? Her parents must be so relieved to have her home.’
‘Ralph says he’s going to arrange some counselling. She’s probably still in shock, but post-traumatic stress syndrome is common after false imprisonment.’
‘I can hardly believe that Helen Beamish could have been so evil,’ Morag said. ‘She had me fooled completely.’
‘And she had everyone taken in, Morag,’ Torquil replied. ‘We’ve looked at the memory stick that Robbie Ochterlonie gave old Stuart Robertson for safe-keeping in case anything happened to him. It was inside one of his ships in bottles on his dressing table. She’s been embezzling and exploiting clients right left and centre for years. She was the murderer all right, but she had her lover, Nathan Westwood, wrapped round her finger. They were stashing money away and he had no qualms about either imprisoning Vicky or indeed, killing her.’
Morag winced. ‘That cold-blooded monster, Helen Beamish, said Vicky was being terminated while she tried to poison me. And if her poor husband hadn’t come in when he did —’
‘He knew that she was having an affair, but he wasn’t sure with who,’ said Torquil.
‘I saw him on the moor on Monday morning,’ Ewan volunteered. ‘Wet weather gear and binoculars. He told me he was bird watching, but he must have been trying to spy on some of those cottages of theirs.’
‘Poor man,’ said Morag. ‘I don’t suppose he even knew about the embezzling. Will he be OK?’
‘Yes, he was taken to the Western Isles Hospital and they flew a cardiothoracic surgeon in. She removed the bullet from his lung and resected it. He’s in intensive care with IV lines and chest drains, but he’s expected to recover physically. As for psychologically, after this, who knows.’
‘Archie Reid is another one in shock,’ Wallace said. ‘He admitted that he’d been supplying Robbie Ochterlonie with peatreek for years, but was terrified that his peatreek could have been involved in either of the two events.’
‘He had taken quite a beating from Angus Mackintosh,’ added Douglas.
‘How did Angus know that he supplied the peatreek?’ Morag asked.
‘Jamie Mackintosh kept a diary. We have it now. In it he made daily notes and it seemed he did all sorts of odd jobs around the island to make cash, including being Archie Reid’s delivery boy. Clearly, he had taken one of the adulterated bottles of peatreek when he and Vicky and Catriona planned their celebration at the pillbox after their exams.’
Morag turned to Penny and Ewan, who were sitting side by side on the settee. She noted their thighs were touching and smiled to herself. They certainly seemed to have hit it off.
‘What happened with Stan Wilkinson?’ she asked.
‘He was the burglar, Morag,’ Ewan said. ‘He wanted his phone back in case we found his pictures of him wearing all those stolen shoes.’
Penny explained that she had realised who he was, with the beard he had grown and his much shorter haircut. ‘I think he’s harmless enough. He just has this shoe fetish.’
‘Aye, when he burgled the place he took all sorts of things to make it look as if it was random. The silly chap took the trainer and the other things from the search, not realising their importance. He said he couldn’t resist my murder shoes.’
‘Superintendent Lumsden took his officers back to Lewis,’ Torquil continued. ‘He was threatening all sorts of reprimands for leaving the station under the management of a civilian, but I sort of suggested that Calum could muster up quite a media storm against him, so all in all, I think it’s going to be passed off, especially now that we have Vicky back. Of course, the Procurator Fiscal is going to open Fatal Accident Inquiries on the deaths of Jamie Mackintosh, Robbie Ochterlonie and now Helen Beamish. We’re going to be busy. Also, since Calum’s last bulletin all sorts of things have come out of the woodwork.’