Crisis (40 page)

‘I promise,’ said May.

‘One more thing. You must destroy the entire
contents of your freezer. Burn everything.’

‘There’s not much in it anyway,’ said May Buchan.
I’m going to have to move out of here very soon. The
Sproats will be wanting the cottage. They’ve been
very good about letting me stay on here so long. Oh
my God …’

‘What is it?’

May stood for a moment with her hands
up to her mouth. She said, ‘I’ve just realized …’

‘Realized what?’

‘
I would probably have given the meat away to
friends before I left here.’

‘
Thank God I came,’ said Bannerman.

Bannerman’s euphoria at having made progress at
last was tempered on the way back to Stobmor
by the fact that he still had to make one of the
pieces fit, and that piece was Colin Turnbull. Could
Turnbull have eaten infected meat too? And if so,
where had it come from? What was probably more
important, was there any more still around? He
had been assuming that the original infected sheep
presented no problem because they had been buried
in lime but maybe more than one had found its way
into the freezers of Achnagelloch? He would have a
word with MacLeod about it. The people respected
their GP. A word about the possible dangers of eating
sheep meat which had ‘fallen off the back of a lorry’
would be heeded. As for Turnbull, it seemed unlikely
that he would have dined alone on illicit meat and it
would be stretching coincidence a bit far if Turnbull’s
wife should turn out to be vegetarian too.

Thinking of Turnbull’s wife made Bannerman real
ize that he would have to speak to her and judging by her behaviour yesterday, he wasn’t exactly her
favourite person.

As he entered the main square at Stobmor he was
still thinking about how best to approach her. He got
out of the car and saw a bus pull up across the street.
Shona got down from it.

Bannerman suddenly felt good, as if the sun had come out. He smiled broadly and called out ‘Hello
there!’

Shona crossed the street, smiling and Bannerman
wrapped his arms around her. ‘It’s so good to see
you,’ he said.

Shona laughed at his obvious pleasure and asked,
‘Have you suddenly become a film star or haven’t you
noticed that it’s raining?’

Bannerman lifted the dark glasses and Shona
gasped. ‘What on earth have you been doing?’

‘It’s quite a story. Come on inside.’

‘
They went into the hotel and Shona registered.

‘Will the adjoining room be all right?’ asked the
clerk.

Tine,’ said Bannerman, choosing to ignore the
smirk on the man’s face.

‘Will there be anything else?’

‘
I’d like some ice,’ said Bannerman.

‘Ice?’

‘Yes, lots of ice. Have it sent up to my room
will you?’

‘Yes sir, if you say so.’

Bannerman turned to Shona and said, That’s
given him something to think about.’

‘Me too,’ replied Shona, with a quizzical look, as they headed for the stairs.

Bannerman filled Shona in on everything that had happened.

‘But will the specimens be all right packed in ice?’
she asked.

‘I can’t ask the hotel to put them in their freezer,’
replied Bannerman.

‘But if it was well wrapped?’

‘
I can’t risk it,’ replied Bannerman. ‘We can’t put
infected material like this anywhere near foodstuffs. I’ll just have to keep changing the ice until we leave
for Edinburgh in the morning. A polystyrene box
would help with insulation. Any ideas?’

‘Lots of things are packed in polystyrene these
days. Why not ask the desk clerk? He might be able
to come up with something.’

Bannerman phoned down to the desk.

‘A polystyrene box?’

‘Yes, and more ice.’

‘I’ll see what I can do.’

A few minutes later the clerk appeared at the door
with an armful of polystyrene and a full ice bucket. This was the packing from a new microwave oven,’
said the man. ‘Will this do.’

‘Nice and thick,’ said Bannerman. ‘This will do
perfectly.’

Bannerman closed the door and saw that Shona
was smiling broadly. ‘What’s up?’ he asked.

‘
That poor man was obviously wondering what we
were up to,’ said Shona.

‘Really?’ said Bannerman. He turned and looked at
the closed door, wondering if the clerk was outside
listening. ‘Use the polystyrene!’ he said suddenly in a loud voice suffused with mock passion.

Shona had to cover her mouth.

‘Now the ice! Oh God yes, the ice!’ ‘More polysty
rene! My God that’s wonderful.’ Bannerman moved
around the room feigning the sounds of sexual
ecstasy while Shona collapsed on the bed in fits of
laughter. ‘You’re crazy!’

‘Not usually,’ said Bannerman, suddenly serious.
‘I think it comes with being happy.’

Shona got up and came over to him. Then long
may you be crazy,’ she said softly. She reached up
to kiss him.

‘Mind my nose,’ said Bannerman.

Bannerman fashioned the polystyrene packing into a container for the sheep samples and packed ice
around it before sealing the package with adhesive
tape. ‘Perfect,’ he said, admiring his handiwork.
That just leaves Mrs Turnbull to deal with, then
we can have a nice quiet dinner, a good night’s sleep
and we’re off to Edinburgh.’

‘From what you’ve said, she’s not going to be very
pleased to see you,’ said Shona.

Bannerman nodded and said, ‘I think I’ll try getting
Angus MacLeod to approach her first. She was very
upset yesterday but I’m sure she’ll be calmer today.’ He called MacLeod and asked for his help.

‘Are you going to try to persuade her that her
husband’s body should be handed over for post-
mortem?’ asked MacLeod.

‘No I’m not,’ replied Bannerman. ‘Apart from any
thing else, that would be accusing her of complicity
in its removal. I just want to ask her a few questions.
I promise I won’t upset her and there will be no
mention of post-mortems.’

‘
Then I’ll do my best,’ said MacLeod.

‘
There’s one more thing Angus,’ said Bannerman.

‘What?’

Bannerman told him about the infected sheep
which had escaped destruction in the lime pit. ‘Do you think you could make discreet enquiries to see if any more sheep “escaped” from Inverladdie and
quietly warn people off?’

MacLeod said that he would.

Ten minutes later MacLeod called back. He said, ‘Julie Turnbull has agreed to talk to you. I will hold
you to your promise not to upset her.’

‘Don’t worry,’ said Bannerman. ‘When can I see
her?’

‘Seven-thirty this evening.’

‘Her address?’

MacLeod read it out and Bannerman copied it
down. ‘I’m grateful to you,’ he said.

‘Just don’t upset her,’ said MacLeod.

Bannerman left the hotel, assuring Shona that he
shouldn’t be any longer than half an hour. He had dressed casually, hoping that this might help dis
pel Julie Turnbull’s initial impression of him as a
ghoul, hell-bent on stealing her husband’s brain.
Shona had suggested that a suit and tie might be
deemed more respectful but Bannerman decided that
Julie would have seen enough black ties in the last twenty-four hours. He wore a sweater, slacks and a
leather jerkin.

Bannerman followed MacLeod’s directions and
found the house in a quiet street three blocks north
of the primary school where Julie worked. The blinds
were half drawn. There was an air of nearness and
order about the place, an air which extended to
others in the row with one exception. The house which stood three doors away from the Turnbull’s
cottage had two wrecked cars in its drive. Its garden
was unkempt and a motor cycle with its back wheel
missing was propped up against the front wall.
There’s always one,’ thought Bannerman.

Julie Turnbull was wearing black. Her face was
pale and her eyes were ringed with redness. She
took a pace back to indicate that Bannerman should
come in but didn’t say anything until they were in
the living-room. ‘I really didn’t want to see you Dr Bannerman but Dr MacLeod persuaded me that I
should.’

‘I’m grateful to you, Mrs Turnbull,’ replied
Bannerman. ‘Please believe me when I say that
you have my deepest sympathy. I met your husband
on several occasions when I was last here and I liked
him a lot.’

‘What is it you want to know?’ asked Julie
Turnbull.

‘I want to know if Colin knew any of the other men
who died recently in Achnagelloch and Stobmor.’

‘He knew the man who worked at the garage. Colin
had his car serviced there.’

‘Were they close friends?’

‘No.’

‘How about the men from Inverladdie Farm?’

‘He didn’t know them at all.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘He may have known them to nod to in the street, but no better than that,’ said Julie. ‘He steered clear
of sheep farmers whenever he could.’

‘Why was that?’

‘Colin was a clever man, Dr Bannerman. He
worked as a labourer but he had a good brain. He was
bored by constant talk of sheep. He resented the fact
that so much of the life of the town revolved around
sheep and sheep farming. I think that’s what made
him decide to do a part-time degree. It exercised his
mind. It gave him the stimulation he needed.’

Bannerman nodded. He asked, ‘Did you and Colin
ever eat apart?’

Julie Turnbull’s face registered surprise at the
question. She half shrugged her shoulders in bewil
derment and said, ‘No, not that I can think of, except
for lunch of course.’

‘Lunch?’

‘Colin took sandwiches to the quarry.’

‘Who made them?’

‘Me. What are you suggesting Doctor? That Colin was killed by something he ate?’

Bannerman was reluctant to commit himself to a
straight answer. He said, ‘Mrs Turnbull it’s important
that I establish certain details about Colin’s diet over
the past two weeks or so. Please bear with me.’

‘What details?’ asked Julie Turnbull.

‘Sheep products in particular. Mutton, lamb.’

‘
That’s easy, none.’

‘None?’

‘Colin disliked sheep meat. He never ate it at all.’

‘Never?’ repeated Bannerman, feeling failure
descend on him like a lead yoke.

‘Never.’

‘Does this mean that Colin was vegetarian?’

‘No. He liked nothing better than a good steak. He
simply didn’t like mutton or lamb.’

Bannerman tried desperately to think of another
way that Turnbull could have contracted the dis
ease. He knew he would probably not have another
chance to question Julie Turnbull. He asked a broad
general question, ‘Did anything change about Colin’s
lifestyle in the past two to three weeks? Did he do
anything out of the ordinary or different?’