Dark Suits and Sad Songs (12 page)

‘Lead on, Hamish. This is a piece o’ nonsense, but we might as well enjoy it as best we can.’ Scott put his arm around the old man’s shoulder as they walked to the fishing boat. ‘Maybe I’ll enjoy this light duty malarkey more than I thought.’

‘So you saw someone on deck, Alice?’ said Daley. ‘Can you describe him?

‘Yes,’ Alice answered confidently. ‘He was kind of big. Ugly. He was bald or with a shaven head – one of the two. I saw him quite clearly.’

‘Do you think you’d recognise him if you saw him again?’

‘Yes,’ Alice answered quickly. ‘I’ll never forget his face. He was laughing at us as his boat sailed away. We could have drowned, and all he could do was laugh. I hate him.’

‘Alice!’ her mother chastised.

‘It’s OK, Mrs Taylor. I understand your daughter’s sentiment. In fact, this could be most helpful. Would you mind coming up to the office, Alice? There’s a picture I’d like you to take a look at.’

Have I found my man in the street? Daley wondered.

17

Scott swore as he clambered onto the fishing boat. Hamish, already aboard, held his hand out to support the detective as he manoeuvred himself off the pier and over the gunwale of the vessel. The tide was full, and the boat sat high in the water.

‘Where’s this Norrie character, then?’ said Scott, looking about the deck for any sign of life.

‘No, he’ll no’ be up here, he’ll be doon there,’ Hamish replied, gesturing over the far side of the boat as he tried to relight his pipe in puffs of pungent smoke.

‘Eh?’ said Scott, as he struggled over the nets, fish boxes and coils of rope scattered across the deck.

‘That’s Norrie’s boat doon there.’ Hamish puffed on his pipe, scattering a cloud of midges that had been bothering them since they came aboard. To exaggerate this effect, Hamish removed the pipe from his mouth and puffed out yet more tobacco smoke into the still air. ‘Aye, Mr Scott, the curse o’ Scotland, these wee bastards. Did I tell you the tale o’ why they came tae plague oor fine nation?’

‘Never mind that,’ exclaimed Scott, looking over the side of the fishing boat. ‘What the hell is that?’

‘That’s the
Grey Gull
. A fine wee craft she is tae.’

‘“Wee” being the operative word. You pointed this boat oot when we were at the head of the quay.’

‘No, no, indeed I did not. This is the
Winter Star
. It belongs tae the MacDonald boys. For whoot reason would I tell you this was Norrie’s boat?’

‘You distinctly pointed tae this boat wae your bloody pipe, just a few moments ago,’ said Scott, looking askance at the small wooden vessel that bobbed alongside the larger fishing boat.

‘Weel, jeest how was I tae point tae this boat when she was doon here oot o’ sight? I pointed in the general direction o’ the boat we were efter. It’s no’ my fault you grasped ontae the wrong end o’ the stick wae such gusto.’ He smiled, a look of satisfaction writ large over his face.

‘And while we’re at it,’ said Scott, ‘just how dae you intend tae get aboard that . . . that tub.’

‘Ach, noo that’s the easy bit. Norrie! Would you fling me up the rope ladder.’ At this, a hatch popped open on the deck of the
Grey Gull
, and a plump-cheeked man sporting a greasy Breton cap stuck his head out and squinted into the golden sunlight of the summer evening.

‘I might have known, nae show without Punch, Hamish,’ said Norrie. ‘We’re having a wee bit o’ engine trouble. Nothing terminal, you understand. I’ll be finished in ten minutes or so. Jeest yous two enjoy the sunshine. Me an’ Kenny will be oot in a minute.’ With that, the hatch closed again.

‘Brilliant,’ said Scott, ‘just brilliant. Here I am aboot tae surrender mysel’ tae the ocean blue again, this time aboard the pride o’ the Toy Toon fleet, and tae make matters worse, the engine doesnae work, plus I’ll have tae perform fuck
knows what acrobatics, just for the privilege of getting aboard.’

Alice walked the short distance from the County Hotel to Kinloch Police Office with Daley and Rainsford. They had asked her many questions about what had happened in the early hours of the morning, and seemed most keen to hear as much as she could tell them about the ‘laughing man’, as they now referred to him. She was troubled, though. Before the police had arrived, her father had warned her not to mention her theories about the sinking of their boat, for fear of making a fool of herself, or sending the police out on a fool’s errand. But she was sure what had happened was down to more than reckless irrresponsiblity and she just couldn’t dislodge him from her mind. The face, the laugh; all of it made her shudder.

Daley sat behind his desk, Alice beside him in another chair. Rainsford had been despatched to get coffee, a task Daley knew the detective felt was well beneath his pay grade.

‘Now,’ said Daley, booting up the laptop on his desk. ‘I would like to show you something.’ In a few moments, the machine burst into life and he found the file which contained the grainy CCTV footage.

Alice sat forward on her seat to get a better look. Suddenly, into frame, walked a man clad in black. Daley saw the girl’s eyes widen.

‘Hang on, Alice. I’ll rewind this and stop it at the point where we have the best glimpse of his face under that hat.’ Daley pressed a couple of buttons and the short clip rewound and paused, this time stopping just over two seconds in. The
stocky man had raised his gaze in order to cross the street; it was a side-on view, but the best they had.

‘That’s him, that’s definitely him!’ The teenager stood in her excitement. ‘There’s no way I’ll forget that face – ever.’

‘You’re absolutely sure?’ asked Daley. But the look on Alice’s face was enough to persuade Daley she was genuinely convinced that this was the same man who’d left the family for dead as their yacht sank.

‘There’s something else I want to tell you,’ Alice said, her voice tailing off, as though she’d said something out of turn.

‘Yes, by all means.’

As she was about to speak Rainsford pushed the door open; the look on Daley’s face was enough to make him grimace and back out.

‘Don’t worry, Alice. If you know something else, no matter how stupid or trivial you think it is, just tell me. Nobody’s going to make a fool of you or tell you off. I promise.’ He smiled at the girl, trying to put her at ease.

‘Just before the Navy found us, I saw another boat,’ said Alice nervously.

‘Yes.’

‘Well, it was as though they just floated there, for ages, doing nothing.’

‘What was the boat like?’

‘That’s just the thing, it was too far away to make out, but, well, you know.’ She shrugged her shoulders.

‘Know what?’

‘Well, I just kind of felt that it was the same people who’d hit us, and they were just out there watching.’

‘What made you think that?’

‘Oh, I don’t know. Just, like, a feeling. Do you know what I mean?’

‘Oh yes,’ answered Daley, who had solved many crimes over the years based on just that
feeling.

‘I told my dad, but he says it’s ridiculous.’

‘What, about the boat?’

‘No. Well, not just that,’ she said, sounding suddenly unsure. ‘Before we sank – the second time, in our little dinghy – there was a noise, and a piece of rubber hit me in the face.’

‘Why do you think that was?’

‘Oh, my dad just thinks that the dinghy got damaged in the collision and sort of burst, like a balloon. There was a whooshing noise, then a kind of pop.’

‘And after that the piece of rubber from the dinghy hit you in the face. Is that correct, Alice?’

‘Yes.’

‘And you think, what, that someone did this deliberately?’

‘I think someone shot the boat and sunk it. I’m sorry,’ she said, blushing, ‘this sounds like the kind of thing you would expect a stupid wee girl to say.’

‘Tell me, Alice. I know you saw this man, on board his boat. Did he see you?’

‘Yes.’

‘How can you be so sure?’

‘He looked right at me. I called to him for help, and then he started to laugh.’

‘Good,’ said Daley, smiling at the girl again. ‘You’ve been a great help, Alice. Thank you.’

The girl smiled back at him and tucked a strand of hair
behind her ear. She was bright, clever and pretty; she was lucky to be alive. Daley’s blood ran cold.

Scott was grim as the small craft chugged out of Kinloch harbour, billows of dirty blue smoke issuing from its diesel engine into the still air. At least the sea looked calm; Scott rubbed his chin, reflecting with a shiver on some of his recent nautical experiences.

‘Aye, a fine night for a wee sail, Mr Scott, is it no’?’ said Hamish.

‘I’m no’ part fish, like you lot seem tae be,’ answered Scott. ‘Where I come fae, the closest we like tae get tae the water is putting it in oor whisky. Aye, an’ stop calling me Mr Scott, it’s Brian. Fuck me, Hamish, you’ve known me long enough now.’

‘Just so, Brian. Talking of whisky, you’ll be wantin’ a wee dram, just tae keep the cold oot, you understand. I take it you have drinking vessels aboard, Norrie?’

‘Indeed I do,’ replied Norrie. ‘In fact, you could say this is a drinking vessel, itsel’.’

‘Very good,’ said Scott. ‘All the fun o’ the fair here, I can see.’

‘Noo, I’m no’ wanting you tae think that all we do at sea is booze, Brian,’ said Norrie wistfully. ‘Under normal circumstances, I would be sober as a judge, fair scanning the horizon for hazards, weather and the like. But since Mr Daley was so kind as tae commandeer the boat for your research purposes, I’m happy tae partake in a sensation or two.’

‘You’ll no’ want tae breach any o’ the rules wae an’ officer o’ the law on board, Norrie,’ observed Hamish, looking suddenly less sanguine. ‘Aye, an’ forbye, I’ve only got the
one bottle, so your sensation might no’ be a’ you were hopin’ for.’

‘Not at all, Hamish, not at all,’ said Norrie. ‘Young Kenny here spent half the winter up in Glasgow at the nautical college. Though you might no’ believe it, he’s even got letters after his name noo. He’ll be in charge o’ the boat the very second the first drop o’ whisky passes my lips.’

‘Oh aye,’ said Hamish. ‘Well, wae the meagre store we’ve got on board, I’m thinking you’ll manage fine tae navigate yoursel’.’

‘Noo, Hamish, never let it be said that I’m backwards in coming forwards when it comes tae refreshment.’ He reached under the bench he was sitting on and produced a well-worn canvas satchel. ‘I brought two o’ my best friends with me,’ he said, holding up two bottles.

‘Things are looking up,’ Scott said with a smile.

At this, Kenny, the other member of the crew, a thin youth with bad acne and an anxious expression, tapped his captain on the shoulder. ‘You’ll remember I failed they exams, Norrie.’

‘Ach, but you’re some boy for the jokes, right enough,’ answered Norrie. Then, in an aside to the young man, ‘Kenny, son, there’s mair tae life than exams. Jeest you keep your hand on your ha’penny. Aye, an’ if you canna think o’ something intelligent tae say, jeest don’t say anything.’

They sailed past the island at the head of the loch, then out into the sound, Kenny staring out to sea, reflecting upon the fact that the only letters he had after his name were ‘Navigation and Seamanship – FAIL’.

18

As he watched the yacht sink, he had cursed himself for being so stupid. He was angry with Pavel too, but what would that achieve? His companion had never been the same after the horrors he’d been put through. He’d been chained for months on end, naked in a freezing cell. Beaten and starved every day until, in the end, his captors had resorted to extreme torture. A hessian sack filled with pepper had been tied onto his head for hours at a time, which made his eyes and nose stream and hampered his breathing so much that he had passed out repeatedly, only to be brought back to consciousness with kicks and punches or a deluge of icy water. He’d been burned with cigarette ends, electrocuted and half drowned.

Then, bored, and certain they had extracted as much useful information as they were going to get, they’d strapped him to a table and cut out his tongue. He had been abandoned in the street, trussed hand and foot.

The villagers had brought Pavel to him. Slowly, so slowly, he had brought the broken man back to life. But scars remained; lacking a tongue, he would never speak again, and his mind had been irreparably altered. Gone was the strong, decisive man he had once known, the man to whom he owed his life. Could he blame this broken man for allowing himself
to be seen as they sailed away from the sinking yacht? No, he could only blame himself. Had he solved this problem? Was the girl dead? He had to find out.

He sighed as they left the inlet in the old fishing boat. They had so many things to do.

Norrie checked the lobster creels, marked by fluorescent pink and orange buoys, cursing his luck as one by one they came up empty. They were sailing just off the tip of Arran now, not far from where the strange lights in the sky had first been sighted.

Though the sea had grown restless, Scott discovered that whisky was the cure to his seasickness. Though he had spent the day dreading this trip, now he was feeling mellow – happy, even – as they bobbed from creel to creel. The night was warm and the view stunning; a purple hue hung over Arran and the distant mound of Ailsa Craig. As the short summer night approached, even the gulls had ceased their cries. The sea lapped at the side of the vessel as Norrie found yet another empty creel and cursed.

‘It’s jeest as well the polis are paying for this wee jaunt,’ he mused. ‘It’s clear we’re having nae bloody luck the night.’

‘Och, as you say, you’ve been commandeered. Sit on your arse an’ have another swift one,’ said Scott. ‘This is a fool’s errand, anyhow. Aye, an’ I’m the fool.’

‘Don’t be so rash, Brian,’ said Norrie. ‘If you’d been here the other night you wouldna be treating this as lightly. I’ve been at sea a’ my life an’ I’ve never seen anything like it. Jeest weird it was. Is that no’ right, Kenny?’

‘Aye, sure is,’ said Kenny. ‘Like somethin’ oot o’ the movies, honest tae fuck.’

‘Well, whatever.’ Scott remained unconvinced. ‘It’s got me oot o’ the road an’ away fae my gaffer, so power tae it.’ He poured the dregs from the first bottle they’d opened into Norrie’s tin mug and raised his own in a toast. ‘Here’s tae lights in the sky, boys. Cheers!’