The Pirate Club: A Highlands and Islands Detective Thriller (Highlands & Islands Detective Book 6) Read online

  G R Jordan

  The Pirate Club

  A Highlands and Islands Detective Thriller

  First published by Carpetless Publishing 2020

  Copyright © 2020 by G R Jordan

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

  This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

  G R Jordan asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

  G R Jordan has no responsibility for the persistence or accuracy of URLs for external or third-party Internet Websites referred to in this publication and does not guarantee that any content on such Websites is, or will remain, accurate or appropriate.

  Designations used by companies to distinguish their products are often claimed as trademarks. All brand names and product names used in this book and on its cover are trade names, service marks, trademarks and registered trademarks of their respective owners. The publishers and the book are not associated with any product or vendor mentioned in this book. None of the companies referenced within the book have endorsed the book.

  First edition

  ISBN: 978-1-912153-88-6

  This book was professionally typeset on Reedsy

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  Contents

  Foreword

  Acknowledgement

  Epigraph

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Read on to discover the Patrick Smythe series!

  About the Author

  Also by G R Jordan

  Foreword

  This story is set in the idyllic yet sometimes harsh landscape of the Hebridean Islands, located in the north-western part of Scotland. Although set amongst known towns and villages, note that all persons and specific places are fictional and not to be confused with actual buildings and structures that exist and which have been used as an inspirational canvas on which to tell a completely fictional story.

  Acknowledgement

  To Susan, Harold, Evelyn, Pete, Joan, Jean and Rosemary for your work in bringing this novel to completion, your time and effort is deeply appreciated.

  Epigraph

  Now and then we had a hope that if we lived and were good, God would permit us to be pirates.

  Mark Twain

  Chapter 1

  The tide lapped on the beach, giving a moment’s shimmer to the wet sand before the water sank through the grains and was then replaced by a second wave of froth. Her feet began to sink into the thick gloopy surface, and she felt the chill coming up her leg. Damn, this was good. There was no one on the beach and thankfully the weather had abated from last night allowing her to enjoy this time away from her domineering mother.

  How am I hanging with my mother when I’m forty-five years old? The question sat before her as she watched a seagull lift before the tide splashed its feet. If only I could be as free as it is, she thought, if only I could cut the strings and fly. But with her mother’s weak chest, she knew that was not going to happen. And when her mother wanted to come to Barra to chase old dreams from her earlier days, she could not let the woman follow that path alone. Instead, she, Karen, must take her moments as they came, and last night’s was breathless.

  The fisherman had eyed her up from across the hotel bar. At first, Karen had not even thought about it, but the man was incessant. If she had been wearing something stylish, hell, maybe even something sexy, she might not have been so surprised, but instead she had been in her floppy jumper and long skirt. Mother had been wittering beside her as he looked on from across the room and was oblivious to the eyes she and her mystery man were flashing at each other. Casting a roving eye over his worn but strong body, Karen’s mind had drifted off from her mother’s talk of prescriptions and doctors and had instead drifted to a beach like this.

  When her mother’s drink had become empty, she had taken the chance to step up to the bar, ordering from right beside him. As he took in her full figure, she had tried to stand a little provocatively and thought she had failed when her hair came untied at the rear and fell across her face. But he had pushed it back with a gentle hand. When he tried to speak, she had put up a quick hand which sent a sad expression across his face. But she had written him a note on a bar napkin and left it in front of him. ‘Eleven o’clock right here,’ it had said.

  She’d barely hoped he would stay but after mother was safely tucked into bed and Karen had used the excuse of cramping legs and the need for a walk, she had escaped. But not before she had changed into her racy underwear and special top. It was a little more daring and revealed more cleavage than her mother would have contemplated suitable from a ‘decent’ young woman. Young, as if! It had been six years of looking after her and in that time, Karen had enjoyed one kiss. And it had not been a passionate one, instead delivered by George from accounts at a bus stop on a cold Monday evening. In truth, he was wetter than the weather had been.

  Her fisherman had taken her outside into his car, leaving Castlebay, the main settlement on Barra, and had driven over the causeway to Vatersay, the small island with its perfect beaches, just like this one at Traigh Siar. She loved the Gaelic names; it gave it all a little more mystery. But there had been no mystery to his intentions. Not that he was anything but a gentleman. They had exited the car and walked along the beach before he stopped and made his move. Abandoning herself to him, she allowed him to enjoy her as she revelled in her first encounter of a worthy nature in so long. It had been two in the morning when she had sneaked back into the shared room, her mother snoring loudly.

  Karen had not slept and so returned to this scene of triumph, listening to the roll of the sea coming ashore as it brought back the memory of passion and hunger. She wanted it all again—the mystery, the excitement, and the conquest. Looking up the beach, she wondered if her underwear was still about and laughed. It had cost a fortune and had been held back for such a moment as this but had been disposed of in a flash after a quick glance. Karen shivered remembering the cold air on her skin, the goose bumps that accompanied last night’s exertions.

  There’s someone at the far end of the beach, thought Karen, her eyes bleary but peering as best they could along its length. A thought struck her. Maybe she had exhausted him so much he was still sleeping here. Surely not after the cold of the night. And had there not been rain as well?

  Stepping quickly along the sand in her bare feet, her shoes swinging from her hand, she fixated on the figure, hoping her eyes would focus more
clearly before she got close and had to make up some daft excuse why she had made a bee line for this total stranger. And then something skipped in her heart and her stomach felt light. The jacket on this figure was the same colour. And it was a male figure, long coat filled by broad shoulders. His shoulders had been strong and would bare the marks of her nails where she had clung to him in their passion. She ran.

  The sun broke through the grey cloud, lifting the day’s dim filter and she saw something gleam in the man’s back. As she approached, her pace slowed until she began to stumble and became faint. It could not be, this could not happen. He had been hers, had loved her like nothing she had experienced in her last ten years. It was like being back at university and being with her rugby man on that summer night, the man whose name had faded. But this was not to be a one-night stand; she had seen more, seen a way clear from her mother.

  Karen fell to her knees and laid her head on the man’s back, right beside where the dagger was protruding. She sent an exploratory hand to his face and began to sob heartily as the cold of his skin reinforced the silence of his body. There was no heartbeat, no rise and fall of his chest. Her fisherman was dead.

  * * *

  The wind blew onto his cheek and a spit of rain made it feel even colder but Daniel cared not. Here he was free, unburdened by whatever society thought. Back in their south coast home, they would have suffered from stares and even the occasional abusive word from some ignorant passer-by who did not understand love. But here there were so few people, no one to bother them. Especially as it was out of season and the campsite had only the pair of them. Yes, it had been cold, but they had made enough heat together and had spent a wrapped-up night in each other’s arms. Yes, they managed that back home but not without the fear of discovery.

  Watching his secret partner walk past him and across the small causeway towards Sanday, the small island attached to Canna, Daniel enjoyed the view. James was tall and broad, strong in every respect. His dark blue rain jacket was dotted with rivulets of water that descended slowly down until they fell from its hem line. But the rain was refreshing. Everything here was.

  Daniel could have stayed in their tent all morning in James’ arms, but his partner had insisted on striking out to see the small church on Sanday. Not that it looked like some great relic but because he had thought it would make a great shot. Everywhere James went, his camera went with him and Daniel thought it was the secret lover in their relationship, the one he could not quite budge. But it did not matter, for it took them away from that bloody town and its hateful attitudes.

  ‘Hey,’ shouted James, ‘stand there on the bridge, just to the side so I can get the background in, the sea sweeping beyond.’

  Daniel positioned himself as requested and then accepted James’ kiss for his efforts. His tightly curled hair, along with his black skin, was adored by James and he had never felt more appreciated by any other white man. Not that there was any difference between them, they were simply a pair, why could everyone else not see that? His parents, James’ parents, the rugby team at the university. But now was not the time for these thoughts.

  ‘Can you get down to the beach over the side of the causeway. I know it’s rocky, but it will look great. Give me a minute when you get there, just going to change a filter. The sun’s playing havoc with the lighting.’

  Daniel clambered down to the shore at the far side of the causeway, struggling with his small backpack that contained their drinks and snacks for this trip. Setting it down behind him, he looked into the tiny crevices between the sharp stone and sought the myriad of creatures whose lives existed wholly in these forgotten cracks of the world. I wish I could simply fall into one of these cracks, he thought, away from anyone, away from prying eyes. But then again, I’m prying, am I not? Someone will always want to look and comment.

  ‘There’s something behind you, Danny, right on the shore, just beyond the rocks there. It’s in the shot, can you move it?’

  Daniel nodded and spun around looking for the offending item. Being further away, James had obviously failed to see it was a boot and Daniel decided he should simply grab it and throw it. It was a proper hiking boot too, real expensive but would be useless as a single. As he got closer, he could see another boot just beside it and his heart rose as he wondered if the size would be right.

  Then Daniel saw the leg. ‘James, there’s someone here.’

  ‘Stop being bloody paranoid and just get it out of shot.’

  ‘James, there’s someone in the boots, I can see legs.’

  ‘What the hell are you talking about, Danny? I have the shot all lined up so just get the item shifted. Quick, the light will change again.’

  Reluctantly, Daniel continued towards the boots, his eyes trying to look with just the peripheral of his vision. He could see a pair of white legs and then a skirt that was billowed up to just below the woman’s bottom. Yes, the legs were too slender for a man. ‘James, come here, now! There’s a person here—she might be in trouble.’

  ‘Every flaming time I get a shot you get spooked by something. There’s no bastard here, Danny. That’s why we came, that’s what you wanted. You and me, alone, and you still make up people coming to look at you. You still go on and on about the . . .’

  James stood with an open mouth looking at the white legs. Stepping forward, he followed them up to the skirt and then to the rain jacket that covered the body. It was yellow but it seemed to have some sort of stain on it.

  ‘What the hell, Danny? Is she all right? Touch her—see if she’s breathing.’

  ‘I’m not. You don’t touch the dead; just leave them, just leave it.’

  ‘She might be in trouble, Danny. Look, I’ll get her.’ James stepped forward and placed a large hand on the woman’s shoulder. She could only be about five-foot-tall, and her blonde hair looked matted and stained as well. With a quick yank, James twisted her body over. As he did the head began to turn but then fell further backwards revealing a cut that had severed through the throat, causing the head to almost flop off completely.

  Turning away, James vomited onto the rocks behind him. Daniel stumbled backwards until his feet caught on rocks and he fell backwards landing inches deep in the receding tide. ‘James! James. Holy God, James. She’s dead, she’s dead!’ But James was still on his knees, emptying whatever was left in his stomach, his eyes full of tears.

  Chapter 2

  ‘Hope! Hope! Are you still in that shower?’

  Hope remained bent double with the water splashing her neck before running down and then either working its way across her sheltered front or dropping down to the floor. She felt so tired. But things had been so busy, what with the Sergeant’s exam and then the promotion. The shower room door was flung open.

  ‘Hope, it’s work. Sounds bad. I think you need to get ready.’ She heard Allinson’s voice and wanted to stand up straight and smile at her man, but she felt lethargic. But it would pass, it always did. ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘Fine,’ said Hope. ‘Just tired.’ With that she brought herself up to her full height and gingerly stepped out of the shower. The lethargy had suddenly passed but her muscles were still somewhat tight, causing her to wince a little.

  ‘You’re not okay, are you?’ Allinson insisted, dropping a towel around her and then wrapping his arms around her, too.

  ‘Stop fussing. What did they say was up?’

  ‘Double murder, apparently. One in Canna and the other in Barra. Macleod wants you in quick and said to pack a bag. I guess our dinner’s off tonight.’

  Hope smiled as she leaned back to whisper in Allinson’s ear, ‘You’ve seen plenty of me this last week. I could do with the sleep.’

  ‘You didn’t complain. Anyway, time for the Sergeant to go to work.’

  The title resonated with Hope, something inside giving her a mix of pride and power. She liked her colleagues, DCs Ross and Stewart, Ross being the calm and polite gent, and Kirsten with her glasses forever being pushed up high
onto that nose. But although she acted like the senior before, now she had the rank and was confirmed the superior officer. She would see the change in Macleod too, his pride in her promotion, feeling like a real unit now, all the correct staff in place. When she was still a constable, he had stuck with her when he could have asked for a sergeant.

  ‘Right, you need to let go and let me get dried,’ she told Allinson and he let his hands fall away. As he reached the door, he turned and simply stood watching her. With the satisfaction of a strutting peacock, she dried herself, basking in his joy at her before wrapping the towel around herself and pushing him out of the door. Fifteen minutes later, Hope was standing with a bag and letting Allinson hold her head to his chest, his fingers ruffling the red hair he had removed from its ponytail.

  ‘Enough!’

  ‘Never,’ he said.

  ‘I need to go,’ and Hope broke off and tied her hair back up behind her head. ‘I’ll ring tonight, wherever I am. We never get a moment, do we?’ This was true in one sense in that every liaison this week had been after ten o’clock at night with work completed. Allinson had faithfully come round to her house and waited for her. He had cooked and massaged and generally been everything she had wanted from him and she had been his willing lover in return. But the experience on holiday, when he had complained about her lack of clothing when sunbathing had changed the relationship. Yes, they had made up afterwards, but they had not resolved it. What would happen next time? In the meantime, they carried on regardless.

  As Hope drove into the car park of the Inverness police station, she saw her boss, DI Macleod, stepping out of his car with a worried look on his face. He was not one for smiling in excess and in some ways his familiar visage was a comfort. As she got out of her car, she saw he had waited by the rear entrance to the station.