maybe?’ Rhona offered.
‘Kids?’ Mike looked taken aback by her suggestion.
‘Have you seen any kids hanging about the place?’ Erling asked.
It seemed to Rhona that Mike paled at the question. Erling noticed it too.
‘Do local children come round here?’ he asked.
Mike hesitated for a moment, then said, ‘I thought I heard kids playing out here on a number of occasions, but I’ve never actually seen them.’
‘Who lives nearby?’ Erling asked Derek.
Derek rattled off a number of family names together with their offspring.
‘You check with the parents,’ Erling said, ‘see if you can find out if a skull has turned up. If we can’t locate it that way, I’ll have to start a proper
investigation.’
Rhona left them to their deliberations after checking that Derek would come back for them as soon as the light started to fade.
‘How far is the cottage from here?’ she asked.
‘A five-minute walk. I’ll pick up some provisions after I’ve checked about the skull, then come back for you. If you want to knock off earlier, just follow the track eastwards
from the gate.’
‘What about a key?’
‘It won’t be locked.’
Rhona didn’t express her surprise at this, having just spent the previous few days on Skye where many people didn’t lock their doors either.
Back outside, she found Chrissy taking surface soil samples and recording what little vegetation there was to be found in the tarred surface around the grave.
Putting aside the issue of the missing skull, they both got down to work.
10
McNab had made a point of observing the Air Support helicopter leaving its base by the Clyde, taking Rhona and Chrissy on what he had described as a jolly. Rising early from
his own bed, which Freya had not shared the previous night, he’d gone up onto the roof and watched for the distinctive yellow and black shape heading north. After which he’d done fifty
press-ups, had a shower, then cooked himself some breakfast.
His new regime, since he’d laid off the heavy drinking, had led to better health, although he acknowledged that at times the drinking had just been replaced by new but equally
obsessive-compulsive behaviour.
When his time was spent with Freya he could channel his energies into sex. When that wasn’t available, he had to expend them elsewhere. Normally work would help with his terrier-like
tendencies, but with no major case to concentrate on, he was, without a doubt, bored. True, there were always the run of the mill messes to clear up, but a major crime investigation gave him
something to really get his teeth into.
Even as he thought this, McNab poured another coffee and turned his attention to the subject of the old man, now lying in the mortuary awaiting his post-mortem, which was scheduled for this
morning. At least today, he had something in prospect to occupy his thoughts.
A thorough search of Jock Drever’s flat had produced nothing more than a picture of a life without ornament and, apart from the photographs and what Mrs Connelly had told him, very little
of the past. To live that length of time and not to have made any impact, or none to be seen, struck McNab as improbable as well as sad. Some of the bastards he’d locked up had affected
countless lives and destroyed many in the process by the time they’d reached their mid twenties.
We are what we do and where we’ve been.
What had Jock done and where had he been? McNab found himself keen to know, despite the fact that it might have no bearing on his death. He glanced at his watch.
Well, let’s see how he died, first.
Jock’s clothes lay spread out on a white butcher’s-paper surface to catch any transferable evidence such as fibres or hairs. The underwear soiled by death had been
bagged. Dr Sissons, dressed for the job in surgical pyjamas and plastic apron, his shower cap and goggles already in place, acknowledged McNab’s entry, his eyes glancing round as though
expecting more than just
‘Kids?’ Mike looked taken aback by her suggestion.
‘Have you seen any kids hanging about the place?’ Erling asked.
It seemed to Rhona that Mike paled at the question. Erling noticed it too.
‘Do local children come round here?’ he asked.
Mike hesitated for a moment, then said, ‘I thought I heard kids playing out here on a number of occasions, but I’ve never actually seen them.’
‘Who lives nearby?’ Erling asked Derek.
Derek rattled off a number of family names together with their offspring.
‘You check with the parents,’ Erling said, ‘see if you can find out if a skull has turned up. If we can’t locate it that way, I’ll have to start a proper
investigation.’
Rhona left them to their deliberations after checking that Derek would come back for them as soon as the light started to fade.
‘How far is the cottage from here?’ she asked.
‘A five-minute walk. I’ll pick up some provisions after I’ve checked about the skull, then come back for you. If you want to knock off earlier, just follow the track eastwards
from the gate.’
‘What about a key?’
‘It won’t be locked.’
Rhona didn’t express her surprise at this, having just spent the previous few days on Skye where many people didn’t lock their doors either.
Back outside, she found Chrissy taking surface soil samples and recording what little vegetation there was to be found in the tarred surface around the grave.
Putting aside the issue of the missing skull, they both got down to work.
10
McNab had made a point of observing the Air Support helicopter leaving its base by the Clyde, taking Rhona and Chrissy on what he had described as a jolly. Rising early from
his own bed, which Freya had not shared the previous night, he’d gone up onto the roof and watched for the distinctive yellow and black shape heading north. After which he’d done fifty
press-ups, had a shower, then cooked himself some breakfast.
His new regime, since he’d laid off the heavy drinking, had led to better health, although he acknowledged that at times the drinking had just been replaced by new but equally
obsessive-compulsive behaviour.
When his time was spent with Freya he could channel his energies into sex. When that wasn’t available, he had to expend them elsewhere. Normally work would help with his terrier-like
tendencies, but with no major case to concentrate on, he was, without a doubt, bored. True, there were always the run of the mill messes to clear up, but a major crime investigation gave him
something to really get his teeth into.
Even as he thought this, McNab poured another coffee and turned his attention to the subject of the old man, now lying in the mortuary awaiting his post-mortem, which was scheduled for this
morning. At least today, he had something in prospect to occupy his thoughts.
A thorough search of Jock Drever’s flat had produced nothing more than a picture of a life without ornament and, apart from the photographs and what Mrs Connelly had told him, very little
of the past. To live that length of time and not to have made any impact, or none to be seen, struck McNab as improbable as well as sad. Some of the bastards he’d locked up had affected
countless lives and destroyed many in the process by the time they’d reached their mid twenties.
We are what we do and where we’ve been.
What had Jock done and where had he been? McNab found himself keen to know, despite the fact that it might have no bearing on his death. He glanced at his watch.
Well, let’s see how he died, first.
Jock’s clothes lay spread out on a white butcher’s-paper surface to catch any transferable evidence such as fibres or hairs. The underwear soiled by death had been
bagged. Dr Sissons, dressed for the job in surgical pyjamas and plastic apron, his shower cap and goggles already in place, acknowledged McNab’s entry, his eyes glancing round as though
expecting more than just
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