Divine had provided such colour and warmth that night. She’d made Maggie laugh about her life in Florida. She even made her involvement with crime in that part of the US sound amusing. Then she’d spoken about the Everglades, the sunsets over the Keys, the lazy flight of the brown pelicans; listening to her, Maggie was spellbound.
‘Come over, why don’t you?’ Divine had said. She’d brushed away all the excuses about Lorimer’s job. Maggie remembered the gentleness of her voice and the way she’d looked into her eyes. ‘I’m talking about you, Maggie, just you. Don’t you want to spread your wings just a little?’
Maggie stretched out her hand for the envelope and drew it towards her. The pages of the white form were stapled together at one corner. She flicked through the contents speculatively. There was a closing date for this application. It was ages away but still she felt an urgency to do something now. She should discuss it with him first, surely? Almost as soon as the thought had come into her mind she dismissed it. No. This was for her to decide alone. It was her future. Her career.
There was no knowing whether they’d take her anyway, another little voice reasoned. Besides, hadn’t there been an element of fate in seeing that leaflet on the staff room noticeboard?
It hadn’t taken her long to collect the necessary references, either. Things had fallen swiftly into place as if it was meant to be. But she still hadn’t told a soul outside the school. Well, except for Divine.
Maggie pulled herself to her feet and strode through to the kitchen in search of a pen. She cleared a space and spread the form out on the table. A few minutes later it was completed. All she had to do to finish this application for a teacher exchange was to sign her name at the bottom. Then the wheels would be put into motion and she might just find herself flying out to the US for an academic year while another teacher came to take her place. Would he miss her? Would she feel differently about things when she came back? Questions reeled through her mind as the pen hovered over the last page of the document. Where was he now? a voice demanded. Away. As usual. Maggie bit her lip. Then suddenly she knew what she had to do.
The pen flew over the dotted line with a flourish and Maggie sat back in satisfaction, smiling at the two words: Margaret Lorimer. It was like looking at the name of a new and exciting stranger.
Chapter Twenty-One
Solly and Lorimer strode towards the narrow staircase that led to the hotel foyer and thence to the bar. The hum of talk was as thick as the cigarette smoke that hung like a hill mist in the airless room. In one corner a large individual in jeans and grubby t-shirt battled against aliens in the shape of a games machine. From his curses it sounded as if the aliens were winning.
‘What’ll you have?’
‘Oh, why not a local malt, eh?’
Lorimer grinned. There was something about being with Solly tonight that made him feel as though he were on holiday. It wasn’t a feeling he was very used to, he thought as he pushed his way between the rounded shoulders of two burly seamen. Lorimer caught the barman’s eye and gave his order then, turning to see where Solly had gone, he watched as the man weaved his way to a vacant table by the window. His beard nodded up and down as he responded to some friendly remark from a total stranger. There was a touch of the exotic about Solomon Brightman that drew eyes to him, thought Lorimer. On his own patch, Lorimer knew he was pretty easy to identify as Plain Clothes. But that didn’t seem to apply up here. He studied the faces around him, noting the weather-beaten complexions of the fishermen and trawler men who slouched against the bar.
There was a knot of older fellows dressed in shabby jackets and tweed bunnets. Lorimer pigeonholed them as local worthies. Maybe they’d be good for information after a dram or two, he mused, the policeman’s train of thought taking over. Behind them Lorimer’s eyes made out the paler faces of a group of skinny boys lounging in a dingy corner. They were likely drinking up the week’s giros, if he read them aright. He’d no illusions about the unemployment difficulties in these parts but as he watched them his thoughts turned to those other youths who had left the islands to find work.
Inevitably his mind turned to Kirsty.
As Lorimer carried back the drinks to where Solly was sitting he glanced this way and that, watching for a stare or a wondering eye to catch but nobody seemed the least interested in him. He was just another tourist passing through. So it was with some surprise that he felt a tug at his sleeve.
‘Mind if I join you?’ Lorimer turned to see Rowena Evans, an insouciant grin on her face. Lorimer hesitated. Was the girl underage or not? Her manner suggested that she was quite used to coming into the hotel for a drink but that meant nothing. He followed the girl’s eyes towards their table where Solly sat reading the Gazette. So that was her little game, was it? Well, Solly was more than a match for a warm-blooded teenager.
‘Why not. We’re just over here.’ Lorimer stepped aside to let Rowena slither through the gap between the tables.
‘Oh, hallo,’ as soon as he caught sight of the girl, Solly rose to his feet, the newspaper slipping on to the floor.
‘Here. A local malt, you said?’ Lorimer put down the drinks as Rowena slipped into the chair opposite Solly. ‘What about you, Rowena?’
‘Oh, just a diet coke, thanks. I’m driving,’ she replied, a twinkle in her eye as if she had already guessed Lorimer’s thoughts. As he left the pair at the table Lorimer wondered if Rowena Evans had deliberately chosen to come to the hotel knowing that Solly and he were staying over. Or was it just a coincidence?
‘You’re a criminal profiler, Dad says,’ she began. ‘Does that mean you have to interview lots of really nasty folk?’
Solomon laughed. ‘I don’t really interview people much at all during an investigation. That’s up to the investigating officer and his team. In this case, Detective Chief Inspector Lorimer.’
Rowena turned to glance at Lorimer who was patiently waiting his turn at the bar once more. She shrugged. ‘So what do you do, then? Weren’t you up here to question Sam and Angelica?’
Solly’s smile died on his lips. The girl’s eagerness to find out about his professional techniques seemed feigned suddenly. Had John Evans put his daughter up to this, perhaps?
‘Rowena, this is a murder investigation. A young woman from Harris died in pretty horrible circumstances and we are all trying to find out everything we can about the world she came from and the people who knew her. Anybody from the clinic who had met her might be of help,’ he told her, his voice deliberately grave.
‘So you don’t think it was Sam or Sister Angelica?’ Solly stared at the girl, not answering, until she dropped her gaze and flushed.
‘Sorry. I’m being a nuisance, aren’t I?’
‘You haven’t known these two patients very long, Rowena. Why all this solicitude for them?’
‘What?’
‘Solicitude.’ Solly stopped. The girl wasn’t one of his students; perhaps this was a term she might not understand. ‘Do you care about them a lot?’
‘Are you kidding?’ Rowena gasped with laughter. ‘I just want to know if I’m sleeping across the landing from a murderer!’
‘And do you have any reason to think you might be?’ Lorimer broke in, placing a bottle of Coke on the table.
‘Gosh, you gave me a fright. I didn’t hear you coming!’
‘Nervous type, are you?’ Lorimer joked, trying to make light of the girl’s reaction.
‘No, not usually.’
‘But you’re worried about the present house guests?’
‘Well, sort of. Not Angelica, really. She’s all right. Sam’s a bit creepy, though. Dad says he’s been through hell and back. I suppose I should feel sorry for them all. They’ve been so ill and all they want up here is a bit of peace and quiet. Well, they get that OK, I can tell you. This place is dead. OK, so I’m going with my pal to a disco tonight but that doesn’t happen very often.’
‘Sam Fulton. Is there any reason to feel a threat from him other than your own imaginings?’ Solly asked.
