The phone went dead and Kirstie Macroon picked up again, as a photograph of Dunshiffin Castle now took up the backdrop behind her.
‘As you have just heard, Mr McArdle feels that the situation in West Uist is becoming highly dangerous and he has asked for police protection. This is Kirstie Macroon for Scottish TV. We hope to have more information on the lunchtime news.’
Wallace turned the sound down.
‘The wee fool,’ cursed Douglas, his brother. ‘What does Calum Steele think he’s playing at, giving out information like that on national news?’
‘Och, he’s a journalist, Douglas. You know well enough what he’s like.’
‘Well I think he’s a pain in the backside,’ persisted Wallace.
‘He’s worse than that, I’m afraid,’ said Torquil. ‘He may not realize it, but he may have just signed someone’s death warrant. Jock McArdle sounded as though he was preparing to pull up his drawbridge against a siege.’
chapter seventeen
Nial Urquart’s hair was dripping wet from his shower as he came into Katrina’s small sitting-room, a towel wrapped around his waist. Katrina was sitting in a silk dressing-gown with a mug of coffee in her hand as she watched the news flash on Scottish TV.
‘I thought you were going to make a great big fry-up after all our exertions of the night?’ he asked with a grin, as he slumped down beside her and wrapped an arm about her shoulders. ‘And right afterwards I’m going to sort things out with Megan.’
‘Just a minute, Nial,’ she said, raising a finger, her eyes wide with alarm, ‘This is important. There was a fire on the Wee Kingdom last night – and a death.’
‘A death? What? Who?’
Together they watched and listened to Kirstie Macroon’s conversation with Calum Steele.
‘Thank God it was none of the Wee Kingdom folk,’ whispered Katrina. She turned and looked at Nial. ‘This isn’t good, Nial. You ought to be there for Megan.’
But he was still watching the news as Kirstie Macroon talked to Jock McArdle, before signing off. ‘The bastard!’
‘Who?’ Katrina asked, bemusedly. She noted the sudden gleam of anger in his eyes.
‘McArdle! Him and his kind who profit out of suffering. It’s all his fault. And now he’s wanting police protection. Bastard!’
‘It must have happened very late last night. I think you had better get in touch with Megan. She’ll be frantic – as well as furious with us.’ She bit her lip. ‘It must have been awful. What did Calum Steele say, it was like a beacon, like the—’
She suddenly stood up and switched off the television. ‘Come on, Nial, we’ve got to get going. I’ve got a couple of visits to make then I have an operating session scheduled for this afternoon, and you need to go and talk to Megan.’
She disappeared into her room returning a few moments later after having thrown on a jumper and pulled on jeans and trainers. Nial watched her gather her case, a water bottle and then open a cupboard under the stairs and pull out a rifle bag.
‘Crikey, have you got to put some poor beast down?’ he asked with a humourless grin.
‘She nodded. ‘Always a possibility. Look Nial, could I borrow your boat?’
‘Sure, the keys are on the bedside table. It’s in the harbour, well-fuelled and ready.’
Katrina ducked back into the bedroom returning swiftly. She leaned over and kissed him on the lips. ‘I need to rush. You talk to Megan. No, better still, you go and see her.’
He watched her through the window as she drove off in her van. He started humming as he flicked on the electric kettle and loaded a couple of slices of bread into the toaster.
‘But first things first,’ he mused to himself, as he reached for his phone.
Torquil finished his call then pocketed his mobile phone. ‘That’s Calum Steele sorted,’ he said with a scowl.
‘How was he?’ Morag asked.
‘Peeved and a bit non-plussed. He feels that he has pulled off a major coup and performed a public service, and he was surprised to hear me say that I may be pressing charges on him as a police nuisance.’
‘And will you?’ asked Lachlan.
‘Of course not, but I just wanted to rattle him a bit, and get him off our case.’
Ralph McLelland had stood up and was packing his bag. ‘I feel a bit guilty there actually, Torquil. He collared me at breakfast and pumped me for information. I didn’t think he’d be straight on national news with it.’ He shook his head guiltily. ‘And I’m afraid I’ve got to be off. I have a surgery soon.’
Once he had gone, Torquil addressed the others. ‘Right, we’ve got a number of leads to follow up. First—’
He was interrupted by the phone ringing on the station counter. Morag went through to answer it. They waited until she answered it and came back.
‘That was Nial Urquart,’ she volunteered. ‘He says that he’s worried about Katrina Tulloch, the vet. She’s just left her flat in a hurry – he’d stayed the night he told me – and she’s taken some sort of a rifle. He says she looked preoccupied and went off as soon as she heard that news bulletin this morning.’
‘Calum again!’ said Torquil. And then after a moment’s thought, ‘But what could there be in that news bulletin to worry her?’
‘There’s more,’ said Morag. ‘She’s taken the keys of his boat.’
‘We’d better get after her and see what’s going on,’ said Torquil.
‘We’ll go,’ said Wallace standing up. ‘Shall we take the Seaspray?’
Morag stood in his way. ‘No, with respect, I think I should go. I know her better than you. She’s a woman and I’ve talked to her already. I know she’s a bit confused at the moment.’
Torquil nodded. ‘I agree; Morag should go.’
‘And I’ll keep her company, shall I?’ suggested Lachlan. ‘Better two people in the Seaspray catamaran.’ Then as she was about to remonstrate, he added, ‘Remember that Ewan went missing after going off on his own.’
‘Uncle Lachlan is right, Morag. Away you go. We’ll sort out the rest of the tasks.’
Vincent was feeling exhausted and guilty after a sleepless night. After taking Megan back to her croft he had listened to her rant about Nial Urquart’s betrayal. He had wiped her tears away, and together they had speculated about the cause of the fire. At about five in the morning they had drunk a couple of whiskies and each become aware of the chemistry that had been threatening to bubble to the surface for several months.
She kissed him and he recoiled.
‘Katrina, I’m old enough to be your—’
She silenced him with another kiss. And then another.
‘But what about you and Nial?’
‘There is no me and Nial now.’
And then they moved to the bedroom where they stayed, cocooned from the world by their love-making, until the cockerel and the geese roused them back to reality, and the ever-increasing problems that surrounded them. But now their love-making was like a drug and the hours seemed to drift by until Vincent finally heaved himself out of bed and started to pull on his clothes.
‘I don’t want you to go, Vincent,’ Megan pleaded, and she insisted that he stay for breakfast. As she prepared food and boiled the kettle, Vincent settled down on the settee and turned on the television. As they ate, they watched the morning farming programme, which was interrupted by the news bulletin from Kirstie Macroon. They sat and watched in horrified silence.