‘I’ll be all right,’ she said.
‘So what happens now?’ Hanlon asked.
‘DI Campbell will head the investigation. I imagine that he will find that Big Jim shot Kai and then killed himself. There’s plenty of evidence that the balance of his mind was well disturbed before this incident.’
Hanlon nodded. That was certainly true. She could easily imagine a drunk Big Jim emerging from one of his beach drinking sessions, seeing Kai walk up the forestry road, deciding to follow him, a drunken argument followed by a murder, then turning the gun against himself.
After all, she’d warned Harriet herself about Big Jim’s behaviour, told her to get the guns away from him.
But although it was easy to picture, it all seemed somehow too convenient. Too many loose ends tidied up. And there were other things that aroused Hanlon’s suspicions. For example, she only had Harriet’s word that Big Jim was suicidal. Was he? Homicidal, certainly. She’d seen that, but self-harming?
And once more, Donald’s words came back to her. Harriet would now be free to run the hotel as she pleased without Big Jim screwing things up, being rude to guests, misplacing bookings, sexually harassing staff.
‘And where was DI Campbell when all of this kicked off?’
‘At home with his granny. It was his day off.’ At home with his granny, thought Hanlon. Not in the office or on the mainland.
‘Why wasn’t he sent to investigate?’
‘Because I was rostered as Duty Officer, not him. I told you, I was working, he wasn’t.’
‘But, Catriona, he could have killed Kai, then Big Jim. Made it look like a suicide.’
McCleod shook her head. ‘Why would he have wanted to? There’s no motive, is there? Not that I can see. He was supposed to meet Kai there on Thursday, for a start. I can’t go to my bosses and say, “I think DI Campbell killed Kai McPherson on the say-so of a woman suspended from duty pending investigation by the IOPC.” There’s no proof.’
‘Oh, but there might be,’ Hanlon pointed out, slightly needled by McCleod’s attitude. ‘The voice-recorder, that should throw some light on the proceedings. When we play that memory stick, we’ll know who Kai’s last visitor was.’
McCleod smiled. ‘That’s why I took this with me. It was hanging up on a nail in the bothy. It’s the spare key for the back door.’
She handed Hanlon the key.
‘You can go and retrieve it from wherever you hid it. I’m going to be on the mainland at Area for the next few days. DI Campbell will be interviewing the hotel staff, co-ordinating the investigation.’
Co-ordinating or making sure it goes nowhere, thought Hanlon. A falling-out amongst thieves was foremost in her mind.
‘I wonder if Harriet has an alibi,’ Hanlon said.
McCleod nodded. ‘Do you know, I was kind of wondering that too. If there was a drug-smuggling operation organised from the Mackinnon Arms, it’d be her I would put money on to be running it. Big Jim might just have been an ignorant patsy. He certainly fucked up running a hotel. Well, I guess we’ll see…’
She looked sharply at Hanlon, her small, fierce face frowning. ‘Don’t go anywhere near the bothy for the next couple of days. There’s a mobile forensics unit coming tomorrow. Give it another day or maybe two to calm down, then go and get it. Then we’ll know.’
‘What will you do with the information on the recorder once we get it?’ Hanlon asked.
‘Well, it depends what it is,’ replied McCleod, frowning. ‘I’m not a believer in crossing bridges until I come to them. We’ll talk about that when we know what’s on it – for all we know the thing may have malfunctioned.’
‘What if the crime scene guys find it?’ Hanlon wondered.
‘Good,’ said McCleod emphatically. ‘I don’t mind if they do. They’ll think it belonged to Kai, then whatever’s on it will be out there, and Campbell, if you’re right…’ she still doesn’t trust me, thought Hanlon incredulously ‘…will be screwed.’
‘OK,’ Hanlon agreed. ‘I’ll go on Friday.’
‘What are you going to do for the next couple of days while I’m in Oban?’
‘I thought I’d stay here tomorrow and go to Glasgow on Thursday.’
‘Why?’ She’d originally intended to visit Tremayne on Islay to say hello and make sure that everything was OK for her impending stay. But her ex-boss would have wanted to know everything that was happening and she simply wasn’t feeling up to delivering any kind of in-depth report.
‘I think I’ve had enough of Jura for the time being. I want to go and do some sightseeing, go to the Burrell collection and whatever else there is to do in Glasgow.’ She looked at McCleod, who seemed disappointed. ‘Why do you ask? I’m not a suspect, surely?’
‘No, no, I was being selfish. I was hoping you would babysit Wemyss – he loves you. He’s a dog of great taste… Never mind, I’ll ask Donald.’
‘Poor Donald,’ Hanlon said. ‘He never gets the girl, just a dog.’
‘I wouldn’t worry about Donald,’ said McCleod dismissively. ‘He does OK with waitresses.’
She sighed. ‘Well, I’d better go, I’ve got a lot to write up by tomorrow…’ She held out her arms and Hanlon stepped forward and they kissed.
‘I do have half an hour…’ McCleod said.
‘And I’ve got a bed upstairs,’ Hanlon said.
24
Wednesday morning dawned clear and bright. At 8 a.m., Hanlon was sitting on a ridge, screened by a rhododendron bush, next to a Scots pine, looking down on a modern bungalow through a pair of old Zeiss binoculars that she had borrowed from McCleod.
She had found out the address from McCleod the night before. The DS had got a text from Campbell to ask her to co-ordinate with the forensic people the following day; he was going to be working from home and could be contacted on his grandmother’s landline. Hanlon had felt a sudden urge to find out a little more about the life of the policeman