The Elemental (Blair Dubh Trilogy #1) (11 page)

“
It wasn’t her, it was the brambles in her garden,” replied Craig. “It’s like the Amazon up there.”

There was a snigger and he looked up to see Freya with her hand pressed to her mouth and shoulders shaking.

“Sorry,” she giggled.

Craig gave her a mock pout then a wink. It was good to hear her laugh.

“Jesus, my arse is killing me,” groaned Steve.

“
I’ll run you a hot bath then I’ll examine the area,” said Nora.

Steve appeared horrified.
“I can manage,” he squeaked.

“
And how are you going to look at your own backside? Don’t look so nervous, I’ve raised a son and I was married for forty years, I know what the male body looks like. Or if you prefer you can limp about with prickles in your arse?”

She led him still protesting up the stairs while Freya studied Craig with concern.

“Your hands look bad,” she said.

“
They’re okay.”

“
Come on, I’ll clean them up, which is a much more pleasant job than Nora’s got.”

From upstairs there came the sound of running water followed by more of Steve
’s protesting and Nora snapping, “don’t be soft, just get ‘em off.”

Freya released a tinkle of laughter that made Craig grin. It was only when she smiled that he realised how sad she usually looked.

He followed her into the kitchen to find Gary tucking into a plate of biscuits and a mug of tea, dry and warm and not covered in mud or prickles. The sight annoyed him.

“
I’ve finished interviewing everyone,” Gary mumbled through a mouthful of crumbs. “No one saw or heard anything, blah, blah, blah. Got me nowhere so I thought I’d be best coming here to keep an eye on Miss Macalister.”

Craig scowled at him. They were trying to find a murderer and all he wanted to do was flirt.
“And you went to every cottage?”

“
Yep. Whoever killed Catriona must have gone round the back way. No one would have been able to see because the back of her house looks onto the hill.”

Craig thought he was probably right, which annoyed him even more.

Gary frowned. “What happened to you?”

“
Attack of the bloody triffids,” he sighed, slumping into a chair at the table.

Freya rinsed some tweezers in boiling water to sterilise them then produced antiseptic cream and cotton wool from the first aid kit in the kitchen cupboard.

“This will sting,” she warned him before pulling a bramble from the palm of his hand.

“
Ow.”

“
Sorry.”

“
It’s okay,” he said, settling down to watch her work. “You seem very efficient at this,” said Craig. “Have you done a first aid course?”

“
I got quite good at patching myself up,” she replied without looking up from her work.

Craig wished he
’d kept his big mouth shut.

“
There, that’s your hands all done. What about the rest of you? Does your arse need attending to like Steve’s?” she grinned.

Gary
’s lips curled into an evil smile. “Really?”

In response, from upstairs there was a loud,
“ouch,” followed by Nora saying, “stop being such a baby and keep still.”

The three of them burst out laughing, Craig
’s grin falling when Freya cocked an eyebrow at him, eyes dancing. “Well, does it?” she said.

“
My arse is fine thank you. I fell on my knees.”

“
Let’s have a look then.”

“
But I’ll have to take my trousers off.”

“
I’ll cope.”

Craig turned crimson.

“Look, if they’re not sorted they’ll get infected, then where will you be?”

“
You can see
my
knees if you want Sweetheart,” said Gary.

“
Quiet Constable,” said Craig. He looked back at Freya. “Alright, but I’ll try rolling them up instead.”

Grimacing, he rolled up his trouser legs. Fortunately the material had enough give to rise just above his knees. Freya
’s eyes widened when she saw the tattoo curling around his calf and her heart pounded. She wanted to touch it but fought the urge.

As she worked Craig tried not to think about her knelt between his legs but it was futile and he experienced a tightening in the underwear department.

Gary could feel the tension building in the room and was caught between jealousy and amusement. Both of them were blushing furiously.

“
There, all done,” she said when she’d finished tending to the grazes.

“
Thanks,” he replied, rolling down his trouser legs. That single moment with Freya had been more exciting than his entire relationship with Mental Mandy back in Inverness.

Steve limped downstairs wrapped in Craig
’s robe, his hair still damp, followed by Nora clutching his dirty clothes.

“
You’d better not be naked under there,” said Craig in a warning tone.

“
No, your mum leant me one of your t-shirts.”

“
And a pair of your undies,” chimed in Nora. “Don’t look so horrified, he’s no spare clothes. What do you expect the poor boy to wear?”

“
You can keep the lot,” Craig told him.

Nora threw the bundle into the washing machine.
“When they’re dry I’ll sew up the holes for you. Craig, give me your clothes too, I’m not putting on two washes.”

Craig slowly pushed himself to his feet.

“Oh, in my room you’ll find that inflatable donut thing your dad used when he had piles. Bring that down for Steve to sit on,” said Nora cheerfully.

Gary snorted with laughter, sending a spray of biscuit crumbs onto the table, earning himself a withering look from both women.

After delivering the donut to a very humiliated Steve, Craig took a shower. While he was changing into jeans and a jumper his mobile phone rang and he found it heartening that he still had a signal. Hopefully the storm would blow itself out early. It was DI Armstrong with the post mortem results. The line was terrible but he managed to get the gist and went downstairs to tell the others. He wondered whether he should share the results with his mum and Freya  - especially Freya - but the whole village would want to know.

“
I’ve just spoken to the DI,” announced Craig when he entered the kitchen. “The PM showed Catriona had been badly beaten first but she was alive when she went into the water.”

“
So you’re looking for a man?” said Freya.

“
Not necessarily. A strong healthy woman could have done it.”

“
Damn,” she said quietly.

“
I don’t understand,” interjected Nora.

“
I’m a suspect,” she replied, “which is why Craig brought me here, to keep an eye on me.” There was a challenge in her eyes when she looked at him.

“
I brought you here because you’re a potential victim, the only one I’m certain of,” he retorted.

“
That too. It’s okay, I understand. You’ve a job to do and you wouldn’t be doing it properly if you didn’t suspect me. You can’t ignore the coincidence that this started just after I came back to the village.”

He wanted to tell her that he didn
’t think it was her but he couldn’t, that would be unprofessional so he remained silent.

Freya was embarrassed when he didn
’t give her this assurance and turned to the window, arms folded across her chest.

“
Well,” said Gary, breaking the awkward silence. “What now?”

“
We’ve no forensics, no witnesses, no CCTV. We’ve got sod all,” sighed Craig. He recalled the book titles he’d jotted down and retrieved his notebook from his jacket pocket. “Steve, I need you to take a look at these,” he said, holding the notebook out to him. “They’re books I found in Logan’s study. Can you translate them?”

He flipped open the book and nodded.
“I can but they’re weird things for a man of the church to own.”

“
Why?”

“
They’re about witchcraft. Malleus Maleficarum, Hammer of the Witches. It was written in the fifteenth century to instruct magistrates on how to detect witches. Cautio Criminalis, Precautions for Prosecutors, written by Frederich Spee, speaking out against the witch trials in the seventeenth century. De Nigromancia, Latin manuscript written in the sixteenth century by Roger Bacon. Ceremonial magic concerned with the summoning of demons and spirits.”

“
What?” gasped Nora. “That belonged to Father Logan?”

“
Either that or his mum, but it looked like they hadn’t been disturbed for a while, they were covered in dust,” said Craig.

“
The Grimoire of Armadel. That’s another book on ceremonial magic, but this is a sort of do-it-yourself book. It has spells on how to evoke and gain control over demon-spirits.”

“
What did a father of the Church want these books for?” said Nora, horrified. “Are they collectables because I know he did have an interest in old books.”

“
They didn’t look very old,” said Craig.

“
You can still buy these today off the internet, they’re always bringing out new editions,” said Steve.

“
Well it’s wrong. Who knows what trouble you can stir up,” she sniffed.

“
Would any of these books contain information about the elements or purification rituals?” said Craig.

Steve thought hard.
“I don’t know them that well, I haven’t studied them in detail but I know De Nigromancia includes a purification ritual for the magician to complete before he casts spells, but I’m quite sure it doesn’t involve murdering women.”

Craig looked to Freya for permission before speaking. She understood him perfectly and nodded her assent.

“Freya thinks Logan had a fifth victim.”

He didn
’t think his mother’s jaw could drop any further but it did. “He didn’t.”

“
Think carefully Mum. Were there any more deaths after Rose’s, a death everyone thought was natural?”

Her forehead creased.
“Not that I can remember. Of course there’s been deaths in the fifteen years since the murders but they were elderly people, nothing suspicious about it. There was poor Simon Faulks, but he was knocked down by a bus in Ardrossan and Father Logan himself, but he’d been ill for a while, he had a bad heart.”

“
I’ll ask Martin, he might be able to find out. I found a bunch of files in a cupboard in Logan’s study. Claire’s left it like a shrine to him. The files had parishioners names on them, including Rose Macalister’s. Unfortunately Claire caught me before I had a chance to examine them. Priests aren’t in the habit of keeping files on their parishioners, are they?”

“
Absolutely not. I can’t think what would be in them,” said Nora.

“
Details of what he was told in the confessional?” said Steve.

“
I bloody hope not,” said Nora.

“
Why? Did you have any deep dark secrets?” Craig smiled.

“
Apart from telling your dad the meat in my homemade pies was Scottish, when in fact it came from England.”

Craig gave a mock gasp.

“But plenty of other people had secrets they wouldn’t want anyone finding out about,” she said solemnly.

The lights flickered off again, the washing machine halting mid-cycle and they all waited to see if the power would come back on, the silence punctuated by the rain slanting against the window. The house creaked and groaned beneath the force of the storm and Steve shifted anxiously on his donut, hating the darkness. He couldn
’t wait to get out of this cursed village.

There was a collective sigh of relief when the lights came back on and the washing machine continued with its work, the mundane functional noise comforting.

Craig was dismayed. Now they had more questions than answers and he had no idea how to stop what was inevitably to come.

“
Let’s go through your interview notes so we can see exactly where everyone was at the time of the murder,” Craig told his PC’s.

“
Oooh, exciting,” said Nora.

“
Sorry Mum, it’s confidential.”

“
Aw. Your dad always included me.”

“
We’ve already gone through this and I’m sorry, but this is between me, Steve and Gary.”

“
But…”

“
Craig’s right,” said Freya. “This needs to be done properly if they’re to catch the killer.”