Morag snapped her fingers. ‘Maybe that’s another link with Katrina Tulloch, the vet? Maybe he fantasized about her?’
Torquil circled Katrina’s name, adding lines to Ewan, Kenneth McKinley and the poisoned dog.
‘It is a spider’s web you have there, Piper,’ said Wallace.
‘You are right, Wallace,’ Torquil mused. ‘But where is the spider?’
chapter thirteen
Guilt had been a constant companion to Katrina for several days, but never more so than now, as she lay half-naked next to Nial Urquart in the long grass of the machair.
‘I love you; you know that, don’t you, Katrina?’ Nial murmured, his lips playing over her throat.
‘Nial, I – I—’ Abruptly she sat up and began reaching for her discarded jeans and knickers. ‘I think this was a mistake. It shouldn’t have happened.’
He caught her wrist and pulled her back down. ‘It was inevitable, Katrina!’
It’s just that I feel so bad, so guilty about—’
‘About Megan? She’s my problem.’
Katrina bit her lip. ‘I meant about Ewan.’
‘Ah yes, of course. But even so, I think we were bound to end up as lovers. There’s chemistry between us.’
And despite herself she had to agree. She had felt it for some time as well, but had done her best to suppress the feelings.
‘How did you manage to find me?’ she asked, as his roaming hands began to work their way under her clothes again.
‘I suppose I knew that you’d be checking out the coast again.’
‘You were lucky then. I had been busy and had to get specimens off on the ferry.’
He chuckled softly as she straddled him. ‘Right now I feel I’m the luckiest man alive.’
Alistair McKinley whistled Shep, his collie, and patted the rear seat of his old jeep. Beside him was his large leather hunting bag full of shotgun cartridges and his old 12-bore shotgun. He started the engine and set off.
As he turned out of his drive he saw Megan Munro waiting for him, arms akimbo. He stopped alongside her, immediately aware of two things. Firstly, she had been crying, and secondly, she was in a belligerent mood.
‘Alistair McKinley, where are you off to with that shotgun?’
‘Megan, lassie, I know that you’ve had a bad time of it, what with Rhona and … your man, yesterday, but’ – he sighed with a hint of exasperation – ‘I’m not feeling that great myself. And where I go with my shotgun, for which I have a licence, is entirely my own business.’
‘It’s my business as well, if you are planning to kill hedgehogs. I’ll stop you.’
Alistair McKinley grunted. ‘Don’t even think of messing with me, lassie. I’ve lost my boy and today I’m in a killing mood. I’m going to do what I need to do to ease my own pain.’ He gunned the engine and engaged first gear. ‘Now get out of my way.’
Megan stood staring after him, her temper seething.
‘So much pain, so much hurt,’ she mused. ‘I’ve got pain of my own, you stupid old man. And I know how I’m going to deal with it.’
‘Shop! Anyone home?’ Calum Steele slapped his hand on the counter of the Kyleshiffin police station.
Wallace Drummond came through, a mug of tea in his hand. At sight of the tubby editor in his yellow anorak, he shook his head as if in disbelief. ‘Dear me, you have a nerve, Calum Steele! Behaving like a hooligan after all that you have been doing.’
The smile that had been on Calum’s face was quickly replaced by a look of injured pride, and then by one of puzzlement, and finally by one of pure irritation. ‘What are you babbling about, you teuchter? I hope you are not referring to my article,’ – the smile momentarily resurfaced – ‘or my television appearance?’
‘I thought it was an interview over the telephone that you gave, not an appearance,’ said Wallace. ‘But I should be warning you, Inspector McKinnon is not pleased.’
‘So it’s Inspector McKinnon today, is it?’ Calum returned sarcastically. ‘Well, is Inspector McKinnon in to have a word with me?’
‘I’m here, Calum,’ said Torquil, coming out of the recreation-room at the sound of the Chronicle editor’s voice. ‘And I’m glad to see you.’
Calum beamed and looked disdainfully at Wallace.
‘Because I was meaning to give you a right royal telling off!’ exclaimed Torquil. ‘Just what on earth did you think you were doing with that piece of drivel about killer eagles? And printing that photograph was just downright irresponsible.’
‘Ir – irresponsible?’ Calum repeated. ‘Me? I’m the most responsible reporter on the island.’
‘Calum, you are the only reporter on West Uist,’ replied Torquil.
‘Aye, reporter, editor, photographer and printer. I am the media on West Uist.’
‘You are a windbag!’ Wallace interjected.
Calum looked thunderstruck and raised his hands beseechingly to Torquil. ‘Did you hear that? I am–’
‘You are a nuisance at the moment, Calum,’ said Torquil. ‘And why did you go and spread this gossip to Scottish TV?’
‘I am a newsman, Piper. The public have a right to know about what’s happening on the island. Even the folk in Dundee and Glasgow have a right to know what’s happening in the real world.’
‘Well you may have shot the gun this time, Calum. We are treating the death of that young man as highly suspicious.’
The telephone rang three times and then stopped as someone answered it in the recreation-room.
Calum’s face registered instantaneous excitement. ‘Suspicious, did you say? Are you talking about suspicion of death caused by an eagle attack – or something else? Come on, Piper. Give me a piece of—’
‘Calum, it’s a good piece of my mind that you are getting now. You need—’
Morag popped her head round the corner. ‘Sorry, boss, it’s Superintendent Lumsden on the line. He says he wants to talk to you straight away.’ She grimaced helplessly. ‘Like right now!’
Torquil gave a sigh of irritation. ‘OK Morag. Could you take over with Calum here.’
Morag nodded and moved aside to let Torquil pass. Then advancing to the desk, she asked, ‘Right then, Calum, where were you with Torquil.’
‘The inspector was ticking him off, Sergeant Driscoll,’ Wallace volunteered.
‘Away with you,’ returned Calum. He leaned conspiratorially on the counter. ‘Actually, he was just telling me that you lot suspect murder. Tell me more, Sergeant Morag!’
Torquil took the call in his office. As soon as he lifted the receiver Superintendent Lumsden snapped; ‘I’ve just come off the phone with your new laird.’
‘You mean the new landowner, Superintendent,’ Torquil interrupted.
‘Don’t mince words with me, McKinnon! The thing is, he’s upset. Not only has one of his employees been involved in a fatal accident, but his dog has been poisoned.’
‘I was aware that he suspects his dog was poisoned, sir.’
‘This is his second dog. He’s feeling angry and thinks there may be a conspiracy against him.’
‘There certainly seems to be bad feeling against him on West Uist. He has hardly endeared himself to the residents of the Wee Kingdom. He has started erecting wind towers before the situation has been clarified.’
‘He’s also fuming about the newspaper and the piece on the news.’
‘I was just having a word with Calum Steele when you telephoned, sir. I understood that you wanted me to telephone you after the meeting.’
‘Well, what was the result?’