‘He dives?’
‘Aye,’ said Donald. ‘He was a professional, very much in demand, I believe, specialist stuff. He was on North Sea rigs for years. He had an idea that he could get divers to use the hotel. He could take them to places that were good for dives, wrecks and suchlike. We had some here the other day, but he got pissed and was rude to them, and off they fucked.’ He shook his head in disgust. ‘Why?’
‘Oh, no reason.’
‘I heard someone say you were staying a week or two. What are you going to do to occupy yourself?’
‘I was told that I should go and see the Corryvreckan, while I’m here.’ She felt a sudden urge to see the place where Eva died.
‘My brother’s got a fishing boat. If you don’t want to ask Big Jim, get him to take you.’
Hanlon looked at him in surprise. ‘I thought you were from Fife?’
‘Aye, we are, but John moved here a couple of years ago, lives on Islay. It’s why I moved up here. We’ve got plans to open our own place. I was talking to the Hart brothers about it. The guys with the boat. They’re keen to invest.’
‘Is that why they were here? To check you out?’
‘Aye, well, partly. I knew them from London. They part-owned a place I worked in. I’ve cooked for them quite often. They ken me well.’
‘They told Big Jim they were interested in buying the place?’ Hanlon remembered what McCleod had said.
‘That’s what they said,’ Donald agreed.
‘Whereabouts are you thinking of a restaurant?’
Donald looked shifty. ‘You’re staying in it. I want to buy the hotel off Big Jim.’
Hanlon nodded. ‘So not the Harts, then?’
‘No, it was just to get an idea of what he would want for it. He wouldn’t want to sell it to me, he’d rather die. He hates me.’
‘You think it’s viable?’
‘It would be for me,’ Donald said smugly. ‘Out of season I would make it pay as a residential cookery school. There’s good money in that these days. I’ve done the market research, done the costings.’
Hanlon thought, That does sound plausible.
‘What’s Big Jim’s problem with you?’ she asked.
Donald frowned. ‘I don’t really know – jealousy? Because I’m a success and he isn’t? I don’t care, but if he knew, he’d go crazy. He’s got a hell of a temper, let me warn you now. And he’s handy with his fists. I saw him knock a drunk fisherman out a while ago in the bar. No, he thought the Harts wanted to pump money into the place. Nobody would be stupid enough to do that – the guy’s a mess.’
‘What makes you think that he’ll sell up?’
The chef smiled; it wasn’t a nice smile. ‘When I hand my notice in, which I plan to do any day now, he’ll be fucked. The business will go tits up. He’ll be desperate.’
Hanlon nodded. Then changed her line of questioning.
‘What’s Kai’s story?’ she asked. ‘He doesn’t look like he belongs in a hotel.’
Donald laughed. ‘I ken what you mean. I was a wee bit puzzled too. But Kai came from a really good restaurant in Glasgow, The Sleeket Mouse.’
‘Funny name for a restaurant,’ she said.
‘Not if you’re Scottish,’ said Donald, shaking his head. ‘You should read your Burns.’ He nodded at his bookcase, which was mainly filled with cookery books. ‘I’ve got a book of his poems over there. You can borrow it.’
No, thanks, thought Hanlon.
‘Anyway, they just missed out on a Michelin star. He worked there, Assistant Bar Manager.’
‘Really?’ Hanlon was mildly incredulous. Kai seemed perfectly efficient but not that good, OK for the Mackinnon Arms but not the kind of man you’d employ in a high-class, metropolitan restaurant.
‘I know what you mean,’ Donald agreed, recognising the tone in her voice. ‘I was suspicious myself. I know a couple of chefs in Glasgow, mates. I got one of them to check, just in case Kai was being a wee bit creative with his CV. But, no, he was definitely there, shite tattoo and all.’
I’d quite like to have a look at that restaurant, Hanlon thought. Kai was seriously interesting to her. She liked him very much in the role of a suspect in the death of Franca.
Donald looked at the clock on the wall. ‘Anyway…’ It was clear from his tone that she was being asked politely to leave.
Hanlon stood up. ‘Well, it was nice talking to you.’
‘You’re police, aren’t you?’ Donald said.
‘Yes, why?’
‘Well, since I am seriously thinking of buying the Mackinnon Arms with my brother, I could do with this business having the drownings cleared up. Maybe it was just an accident, but if not…’ he suddenly looked serious ‘… I really want to help you, if I can, to get to the bottom of how those girls died.’
Hanlon frowned. ‘Donald, it’s nothing to do with me.’
‘Of course it isn’t…’ He sounded as if he didn’t believe her, that somehow she was part of the investigation. ‘People won’t want to eat in a place that’s associated with murder.’
‘Even the psychics?’ she teased.
‘Oh, God, we had a party of eight of them over the other weekend, don’t remind me… no. They want a historic ghost from way back. They don’t want anything to do with current murders.’
‘No one has said that it’s murder, yet.’
Donald gave her a look that said, really?
‘Well, remember the offer’s there. You need any help, I’m your boy.’
‘Thanks,’ she said. ‘I won’t forget.’
Hanlon opened the door and stepped outside. It had stopped raining, but the weather was still blustery.
‘At least it’s stopped stotting down,’ said Donald, looking up at the sky.
There was a bicycle, a man’s off-road bike, under a tarp.
‘Is that bike yours?’
She looked at Donald; he grinned shiftily. He had a peculiar charm all of his own. She looked at his gut hanging over his belt. She doubted he’d get very far on the bike up one
