traps.”
“Now you’re talking. I’ll just use the bathroom before we go... all that tea.”
While he went to the sink, I trotted upstairs. I did have to use the facilities, but I was really interested in checking the bathroom. Before I washed my hands, I scrutinized the sink. Both it and the toilet bowl were scrupulously clean. If MacAulay had bled in the bathroom, there was no sign of it.There was a medicine cabinet, but there was nothing in it except a flattened tube of shaving cream, toothpaste, and a toothbrush. No floss. There was a full bottle of prescription sleeping pills and the usual pharmaceutical paraphernalia you’d expect with a man in such ill health. Just as I was about the switch off the light, I saw a wicker laundry hamper tucked in beside the toilet. I looked inside. There was the usual pile of used T-shirts and underwear, but on top of the heap was a tea towel that had been saturated in blood.
Gillies smiled at me when I rejoined him downstairs. He had an infectious smile that softened the rather hard lines of his face, not to mention the ferocity of his black eye.
“And? How was the bathroom?”
“Clean as a whistle.”
On the way to the car, I asked him for a favour.
“Could we stop and talk to the MacLeans?”
“I don’t see why not. You’re a visitor. We’re not doing anything in an official capacity.”
When we pulled into the driveway, both Mr. and Mrs. MacLean came out at once. They appeared to be in their seventies, and had matching soft white hair and tweed jackets. He was still chewing on his dinner.
“We saw the ambulance come. Puir Tormod. They’ve taken him away to Stornoway, I suppose.”
“They have.”
We were still in the car at this point, and Gillies leaned his head out of the window. “If it’s not spoiling your dinner, would you mind if Miss Morris and I had a wee chat with you both?”
They nodded almost simultaneously. “Come on in,” said Mr. MacLean. “We spoke to young Fraser, but I’m not sure how much he really understood. He was in shock, puir fellow.”
Gillies came around and opened the car door for me while I was gathering up my purse. As we went in, he made introductions, but kept it to the fact that I was a police officer from Canada. The MacLeans were quite flustered by the excitement. Mr. MacLean asked me if I had met his cousin who had emigrated years ago andlived in Ontario — or was it Vancouver? No, I hadn’t, I said. The odds were about five-million-to-one that our paths had crossed. But then you never knew.
They took us straight into the kitchen, which, like MacAulay’s, hadn’t changed since the 1950s. More tea was offered, which I declined, but which Gillies accepted. Finally we were sitting down around the Formica table.
“Could you just go over again what you told Constable Fraser? You saw a car leaving Mr. MacAulay’s house on Friday night.”
“Well now, let’s see. Isobel and I had gone up to the community centre in Carloway. There’s always a little ceilidh on Friday nights, and we enjoy going, don’t we, Bel?”
“We do,” said Mrs. MacLean, who was the less talkative. “It breaks the monotony.”
“We must have left there about eleven o’clock, wouldn’t you say, Bel?”
“Five past at the most. And I must tell you now, Tom had only had two glasses of beer. Isn’t that so?”
“It is. I can’t take the drink these days. More than two glasses and my prostate acts up fierce. So where was I?... Oh aye, we were jest approaching on our house. Look, why dinna I draw you a map? Bel, can you bring some paper and pencil?”
Mrs. MacLean got up promptly, as no doubt she had done all her married life when requests came from her husband. While we waited, Mr. MacLean took what appeared to be a single cigarette from his pocket and stuck it in his mouth.
“I’m trying to stop smoking, and these things are supposed to help you. They’re menthol or some darned thing like that. Tastes like mothballs.” He
“Now you’re talking. I’ll just use the bathroom before we go... all that tea.”
While he went to the sink, I trotted upstairs. I did have to use the facilities, but I was really interested in checking the bathroom. Before I washed my hands, I scrutinized the sink. Both it and the toilet bowl were scrupulously clean. If MacAulay had bled in the bathroom, there was no sign of it.There was a medicine cabinet, but there was nothing in it except a flattened tube of shaving cream, toothpaste, and a toothbrush. No floss. There was a full bottle of prescription sleeping pills and the usual pharmaceutical paraphernalia you’d expect with a man in such ill health. Just as I was about the switch off the light, I saw a wicker laundry hamper tucked in beside the toilet. I looked inside. There was the usual pile of used T-shirts and underwear, but on top of the heap was a tea towel that had been saturated in blood.
Gillies smiled at me when I rejoined him downstairs. He had an infectious smile that softened the rather hard lines of his face, not to mention the ferocity of his black eye.
“And? How was the bathroom?”
“Clean as a whistle.”
On the way to the car, I asked him for a favour.
“Could we stop and talk to the MacLeans?”
“I don’t see why not. You’re a visitor. We’re not doing anything in an official capacity.”
When we pulled into the driveway, both Mr. and Mrs. MacLean came out at once. They appeared to be in their seventies, and had matching soft white hair and tweed jackets. He was still chewing on his dinner.
“We saw the ambulance come. Puir Tormod. They’ve taken him away to Stornoway, I suppose.”
“They have.”
We were still in the car at this point, and Gillies leaned his head out of the window. “If it’s not spoiling your dinner, would you mind if Miss Morris and I had a wee chat with you both?”
They nodded almost simultaneously. “Come on in,” said Mr. MacLean. “We spoke to young Fraser, but I’m not sure how much he really understood. He was in shock, puir fellow.”
Gillies came around and opened the car door for me while I was gathering up my purse. As we went in, he made introductions, but kept it to the fact that I was a police officer from Canada. The MacLeans were quite flustered by the excitement. Mr. MacLean asked me if I had met his cousin who had emigrated years ago andlived in Ontario — or was it Vancouver? No, I hadn’t, I said. The odds were about five-million-to-one that our paths had crossed. But then you never knew.
They took us straight into the kitchen, which, like MacAulay’s, hadn’t changed since the 1950s. More tea was offered, which I declined, but which Gillies accepted. Finally we were sitting down around the Formica table.
“Could you just go over again what you told Constable Fraser? You saw a car leaving Mr. MacAulay’s house on Friday night.”
“Well now, let’s see. Isobel and I had gone up to the community centre in Carloway. There’s always a little ceilidh on Friday nights, and we enjoy going, don’t we, Bel?”
“We do,” said Mrs. MacLean, who was the less talkative. “It breaks the monotony.”
“We must have left there about eleven o’clock, wouldn’t you say, Bel?”
“Five past at the most. And I must tell you now, Tom had only had two glasses of beer. Isn’t that so?”
“It is. I can’t take the drink these days. More than two glasses and my prostate acts up fierce. So where was I?... Oh aye, we were jest approaching on our house. Look, why dinna I draw you a map? Bel, can you bring some paper and pencil?”
Mrs. MacLean got up promptly, as no doubt she had done all her married life when requests came from her husband. While we waited, Mr. MacLean took what appeared to be a single cigarette from his pocket and stuck it in his mouth.
“I’m trying to stop smoking, and these things are supposed to help you. They’re menthol or some darned thing like that. Tastes like mothballs.” He
Similar Books
