Water's Edge Read online

  Hope raised her eyebrows. “I don’t sell my body to men for pleasure. What do you mean, I’m like her?”

  “You’re young. You like the sports and gym and that. You also like to be looked at, at least I assume you do because you tend to show off your figure. You’re fast paced, not like me. So what’s her bag in all this, what’s she getting?”

  “Maybe excitement, sir. Definitely money. There was nothing up there except that her clothing was expensive. All show, all image. Even the posters. I wouldn’t have any posters around my lover. I want him to be focused on me. But she wanted to set a mood. So there’s insecurity there too. She’s actually pretty different to me.”

  “So I see, McGrath.”

  “I hope so, sir. You may not like my brashness when it comes to clothing and maybe you won’t like my openness in forming relationships but I hope you understand I am not someone creating a show because I’m shallow underneath or need something.”

  Macleod stared at her. “That’s really well put, McGrath. You’re certainly showing yourself to being a deeper person than I thought. But don’t kid yourself, we all need something.”

  Chapter 5

  The short ride to the police station was in silence. Macleod was chewing over what he had seen, especially the ledger book with the large sums of money, large certainly for some mere back rubbing. Sara Hewitt’s boyfriend was at the station and distraught so it would be good to interview him now while his guard was down. Invariably in these situations the killer was generally someone well known to the victim and the out of the way but romantic setting for her dispatch could be boyfriend related. Still, an open mind had to be kept.

  The station staff were very accommodating and two cups of tea were provided on arrival before they entered the interview room. The room was plain and simple, with the obligatory desk before the interviewee who in this case seemed rather snappily dressed. Macleod recognised some of the latest fashions from Glasgow on the young man who according to records was twenty-three.

  Iain Angus MacDonald had been born and bred on the island, or so the desk sergeant had said. His mother was a councillor, something rare enough on the island and quite a local celebrity. Her husband had died some time previous but this had not stopped her local activities and campaigning. The hour was now past seven and Macleod wanted to get this interview over and done with tonight. He had asked the uniformed officers to carry out door to door around the massage shop, see what anyone knew and some of the Glasgow staff were setting up an incident room. This would be a long night.

  Macleod and McGrath sat down behind the desk and looked at the young man with his head hung low. Offering a hand across the table, nothing was given in reply and Macleod opened up the conversation.

  “I’m DI Macleod and this is DC McGrath, up from Glasgow to investigate this tragic incident. I’d like to thank you for coming in to talk to us, Iain, at what must be a hard time. If you don’t mind, could I ask how long you had known Sara?”

  The face lifted and two resentful eyes looked back. There had been tears and the young man’s face was sagging, pain wrought from every feature.

  “Two years. We’d been together two years.”

  “Did you spend much time at her flat above her shop?” asked Hope.

  The man nodded and sniffed. “She’s only had it three months. We used to take it in turns stopping at hers or mine. She never liked to be there if she had clients, I don’t think she...,” -Iain sniffed again – “wanted me around if clients were downstairs. Said it wasn’t professional with someone stomping around upstairs. Besides she had no TV. My place was better for a night in.”

  “So you weren’t often at Sara’s?” probed Hope.

  “Hers was in town, so that was what we used if we had been out. Saturday night at the club and then walk back to hers. Was less than fifteen minutes. I’m out of town and that would be a scramble for the taxi. God, she wore some hot outfits on a Saturday.”

  Macleod fought to ignore the blasphemy. “Can you tell us a bit about Sara? We’ve seen her flat and she seemed to like to dress well.”

  The man rolled back his neck and looked at the ceiling. Sitting in a shirt, he seemed to be sweating despite the room not being particularly hot. His hair was dark but neatly cropped, and Macleod thought he could smell a scent from him. He was certainly well groomed.

  “Sara always looked good, real good. She didn’t care what people said. She always said that a good looking woman should not be afraid to look sexy and sweet. There was no baggage that this island brings. The guys were jealous seeing her on my arm.”

  “So your relationship was more physical than platonic?” asked Hope.

  “What? We were having a lot of sex and stuff yes. As for the other word, I’m not with you.”

  “Was there more to the relationship than sex?”

  “Of course there bloody was. What sort of a shit question is that to ask? I wasn’t just banging her and then pissing off.” Iain was shaking his head and staring at Hope as if she had committed the greatest insult. “You’re just like my mother, that’s all she thought we were about. I’d thought you’d be a bit more understanding rather than this old fart here,” he pointed at Macleod, “considering the figure you cut.”

  Hope went to speak but Macleod cut across her. “This old fart would like to know your whereabouts last night and since then, just to eliminate you from our enquiries you understand. Really don’t want to burden you any more than we have to at this time.”

  “I was at home last night.”

  “On your own?”

  “Yes. Well, Alistair called in at about eight and we had a beer but then he headed off.”

  “Alistair who?” asked Macleod.

  “Alistair Mackenzie, my pal. Lives further down the village.”

  “That’s Back, yes?”

  “Aye. I was watching that new series on Netflix, the one about the murders in Edinburgh. You two would probably like it.” Macleod raised his eyes. “It was good. Then I went to bed, got up this morning and went into work at the garage, I heard some vibes on the grapevine and couldn’t get her on her mobile. So I called your station.”

  “So you hadn’t spoken to her last night?” asked Hope.

  MacDonald shook his head. “She did send me a text, just a few.”

  “How did she sound?”

  “Honestly, a wee bit pissed. She also sent me a photo.”

  “What time was all this?”

  “Oh, about eleven.” He sniffed. “She used to send me pics like that when she got pissed. Got a whole stack of them. Doesn’t seem right looking at them now.”

  “Can we see this picture?” asked Macleod.

  “It’s kinda private.”

  “Mr Macdonald, your girlfriend has died and I need to explore every avenue to find out why. You currently have in your possession a photo that relates to her movements prior to her death so I would like to see it. I don’t want to come down heavy handed in your time of grief but my priority is solving the reason for her death. So please, if you would be so kind as to hand over your phone.”

  The man opposite began to weep again but he placed a hand into his pocket and produced a mobile phone. Handing it to Macleod, he sat back in his chair and looked away from the pair of them.

  Opening the phone, Macleod merely stared at it, before handing it to Hope. He clocked her grin as she worked her way into the text section and gave a little intake of breath as the picture was displayed.

  The selfie showed a smiling girl devoid of any clothing above her waist. She had an attractive face with long blonde hair and a buxom body. Macleod forced himself to not tut and looked beyond her to the background of the picture. He saw a lochside, he saw water. The date stamp said the time of sending was 23:11.

  “We need to take that picture for analysis, Mr MacDonald.”

  “Bloody hell, you can’t parade that everywhere.”

  “I don’t intend to parade it anywhere, Mr MacDonald. I intend to get my team
to begin an analysis of the background and identify it so I know where your girlfriend was at eleven minutes after eleven. So kindly allow us access to this one picture and I’ll make sure they distribute it within the station with her more exposed parts covered.”

  MacDonald nodded and handed over the mobile. Macleod handed it to Hope and indicated she should leave the room to sort out the picture and send in another officer. The man opposite him was obviously grieving but Macleod needed answers and he also needed to be sure the grief wasn’t brought on by an action of MacDonald’s. Just because you kill someone does not mean you do not feel grief.

  “You said she had had the flat only three months.” MacDonald nodded. “So I assume she was only in the business of being a masseur for three months.”

  “That’s right, she’d had the business going three months but she had been doing the massage and other techniques before that. College course. She was good at it mind. Nothing better than having her hands taking out the tension and knots of the day. Of course I got a more private effort.”

  “Private?”

  “Yeah, I was her man. She didn’t wear much when she massaged me. You know. Was really..., oh God, she’s...”

  Macleod watched the man burst into another bout of sniffing and crying. If he was a liar, he was a damn fine actor. Macleod wasn’t looking forward to the next part but it had to be done.

  “Did Sara do any extras for customers?”

  The man stopped sniffing. His eyes became wild and he stood up from his seat, beginning to clench his fists. “What are you talking about? Extras. You dirty bastard. What the hell is that mean to mean? She just massaged people. Men and women. There was nothing else. There was only me that she did anything special for.”

  Macleod remained seated and held up a hand, trying to calm down the man opposite. It was in these moments that any bluff was usually let down and so he decided to push the issue. “I was looking through her books and it appears a number of gentleman seemed to pay over the odds for her services. I was just wondering if she...”

  “What? Was banging them on the side? Letting them have the whole thing? Massaging special areas? You think she was a slut?” At this MacDonald leaned across the table and drew himself up to the detective, raging in his face. “She was no slut. Me, you got that, me. I was the only one who gave her it. Understand!”

  “Sit down,” Macleod said quietly. “I said sit down. I need to understand why these men are paying extra money. I doubt the massage justifies these numbers and I need to know what she’s at. If it’s drugs, it’s drugs. If it’s looking after their dogs, then it’s looking after their dogs. Whatever it is, I need to know because someone killed her for some reason. So anything unusual, I need to know why.”

  “Okay,” said MacDonald, unclenching his fists before pointing his finger at Macleod. “But you understand she was no slut. She told me, she only did that stuff with me.”

  “Did you buy her the posters above her bed?”

  “What posters?”

  “Oh nothing, just saw a few posters above her bed. Just wondered.” MacDonald looked at him strangely but sat back down and buried his head in his hands. Then he raised his head again.

  “Look all Sara had was me, her gym and her massage business. We were thinking about settling down but we needed more. That’s why she was working in the shop on odd days.”

  “What shop?”

  “MacLennan’s. Little DIY store. She knew nothing about DIY but it paid. Better than her lifeguard job anyway.”

  “Where was that job? The lifeguard one.”

  “Here in town at the sports centre.”

  Macleod thought to himself, that’s two places to check out. I think I’ll do a little gym work in the morning. Can pick up the DIY store afterwards.

  There was a knock at the door and Hope entered and handed MacDonald’s mobile back to him. The man hardly looked at her and Hope leant in close to whisper to Macleod that MacDonald’s mother was waiting outside.

  “Mr MacDonald, thank you for your time and candidness. I believe your mother is outside and you’ve had a rough day, so I intend to stop this interview right now and let you go and rest.” Macleod stood up and waited for MacDonald to react. As the man stood up, Macleod put out his hand and shook the man’s right hand before thanking him for his assistance.

  “My sincerest condolences, Mr MacDonald.”

  “Just get the bastard that did this, okay.”

  “I fully intend to. If you will follow me.”

  Macleod led the man out through the corridor to the front reception area where a middle aged woman sat in a long skirt with leather boots just showing underneath. She wore a green blouse with a flower motif and her auburn hair was tied up behind her. A leather bag was slung over her shoulder and she showed deep concern when MacDonald emerged from behind Macleod.

  “Oh Iain, how awful.” The woman placed her arms around the man but he showed little to acknowledge her efforts.

  “Good evening Madam, I am DI Macleod and behind me is DC McGrath. Are you going to take care of Mr MacDonald, he’s had quite a shock?”

  “My apologies, Inspector, my name is Marie, Marie Smith, councillor for the Back area. Iain is my son. I’ll take care of him. Time to go home, Iain.”

  Macleod smiled. “Good, he could do with some understanding company. Just for our records would you state your full name. Sorry, just formality.”

  “But of course, it’s Marie Hannah MacDonald-Smith, but I usually just go with Marie Smith since my husband passed on.”

  “My condolences, Ma’am.” Macleod turned to McGrath. “Did you get that?” A little stunned, Hope grabbed a notebook from her rear pocket and wrote the name down. “Well, thank you again and we will be in touch tomorrow as you would expect.”

  “Of course Inspector,” said the woman and led her son out of the front doors of the station. Macleod lingered at the door watching the pair get into a red car.

  “Formality, full name, what was all that about?”

  Macleod turned to his partner and sniffed. “It’s a hunch but some of those names in the book, I doubt they were real. Most were not island names when big money was involved. However one recurring set of initials were M and S. Or M and M-S. Or MH and S. There were a number of similar initials. I’ll need to recheck but I think we may have found a client who paid big money. Now I really can’t tell if she was a woman who needed a woman’s touch. But tomorrow, if the name’s check out, we need to find out.”

  “Bit much being involved with your son’s girlfriend.”

  “That’s families for you. Sometimes I’m glad I didn’t have any kids. My wife would have liked them but I’ve seen too much heartbreak caused by them.”

  “Well we can’t have you being any more miserable.”

  The comment was quiet, under the breath and not intended for his ears but it stung. Macleod turned but Hope was already walking back through the doors of the reception lobby. Despite all she represented, the turbulence and casualness of youth, he still wanted to be liked by her. His love had been gone twenty years now. And the hunger for someone, some woman to share things with had him all eyes and feelings for any woman who got onto his radar.

  Steady, he thought, God will provide, He will provide.

  Chapter 6

  It was one in the morning when Hope drove the car into the hotel car park. One of the good things about Stornoway was that you didn’t have to travel far to your accommodation. As the Inspector sought someone out to give them their rooms, Hope collapsed in one of the chairs in the lobby area.

  Looking around she saw a man asleep at a table in the corner. His shirt was hanging out of his trousers and Hope guessed that there had been some function on in the hotel as he was looking rather smart. Beyond the man, there was a shield and arms on the wall and some rather quaint figurines on a mantelpiece above a fire place. The fire had died down but she imagined it must be a welcome sight in the winter months, especially with the winds and rain the
y got here.

  Macleod returned with two keys and they followed the signs on the walls up a flight of stairs to their respective rooms. The corridors were like that of many hotels, the same basic colour on walls without a pattern which always gave Hope the idea she was in a recurring dream in a maze she could not escape.

  “Meet in my room in five minutes for a quick plan for tomorrow. We’ll need to be on the go early I think.”

  Hope nodded. “Mind if I change and come through. I could really do with getting out of these clothes.”

  “Of course,” said Macleod but he seemed rather abhorred at the idea. “Do you want a drink?”

  “Wouldn’t mind a whiskey, Sir”

  “Well that’s a walk to the bar. I don’t think there’s a mini bar in here. And I don’t drink, myself. There’s probably tea if you want it.”

  “Coffee, sir. See you in five.” Hope turned the key and opened her door, dragging her case inside. Throwing it onto her bed, she kicked off her boots and quickly pulled off her top and trousers. Her lingerie followed and she then opened her case looking for something suitable to wear in her boss’s hotel room. She saw there was a balcony window behind some net curtains on the far wall and walked right up to it, peering through the material to see what the view was from outside. There was a street below and despite how she fancied feeling some cool air on her skin, she reckoned a DC standing in the raw was bound to attract attention from any passers-by. Not a wise career move.

  Turning back to her case, she pulled out some pyjama bottoms and her beloved Raiders top, the American football jersey was large on her and had perforated holes as it was the real thing. Despite this it would provide adequate cover. Then she thought of Macleod and how conservative he was. Rummaging again in the case she took her light green dressing gown. It was only knee length but it should show him the correct degree of modesty.

  Hope grabbed her notebook and pen and exited her room to stand in front of Macleod’s. She knocked gently, trying not to wake up anyone else. There was a small cry of “just a minute” from inside and she stood patiently.