Solly and Lorimer strode towards the narrow staircase that led to the hotel foyer and thence to the bar. The hum of talk was as thick as the cigarette smoke that hung like a hill mist in the airless room. In one corner a large individual in jeans and grubby t-shirt battled against aliens in the shape of a games machine. From his curses it sounded as if the aliens were winning.
‘What’ll you have?’
‘Oh, why not a local malt, eh?’
Lorimer grinned. There was something about being with Solly tonight that made him feel as though he were on holiday. It wasn’t a feeling he was very used to, he thought as he pushed his way between the rounded shoulders of two burly seamen. Lorimer caught the barman’s eye and gave his order then, turning to see where Solly had gone, he watched as the man weaved his way to a vacant table by the window. His beard nodded up and down as he responded to some friendly remark from a total stranger. There was a touch of the exotic about Solomon Brightman that drew eyes to him, thought Lorimer. On his own patch, Lorimer knew he was pretty easy to identify as Plain Clothes. But that didn’t seem to apply up here. He studied the faces around him, noting the weather-beaten complexions of the fishermen and trawler men who slouched against the bar.
There was a knot of older fellows dressed in shabby jackets and tweed bunnets. Lorimer pigeonholed them as local worthies. Maybe they’d be good for information after a dram or two, he mused, the policeman’s train of thought taking over. Behind them Lorimer’s eyes made out the paler faces of a group of skinny boys lounging in a dingy corner. They were likely drinking up the week’s giros, if he read them aright. He’d no illusions about the unemployment difficulties in these parts but as he watched them his thoughts turned to those other youths who had left the islands to find work.
Inevitably his mind turned to Kirsty.
As Lorimer carried back the drinks to where Solly was sitting he glanced this way and that, watching for a stare or a wondering eye to catch but nobody seemed the least interested in him. He was just another tourist passing through. So it was with some surprise that he felt a tug at his sleeve.
‘Mind if I join you?’ Lorimer turned to see Rowena Evans, an insouciant grin on her face. Lorimer hesitated. Was the girl underage or not? Her manner suggested that she was quite used to coming into the hotel for a drink but that meant nothing. He followed the girl’s eyes towards their table where Solly sat reading the Gazette. So that was her little game, was it? Well, Solly was more than a match for a warm-blooded teenager.
‘Why not. We’re just over here.’ Lorimer stepped aside to let Rowena slither through the gap between the tables.
‘Oh, hallo,’ as soon as he caught sight of the girl, Solly rose to his feet, the newspaper slipping on to the floor.
‘Here. A local malt, you said?’ Lorimer put down the drinks as Rowena slipped into the chair opposite Solly. ‘What about you, Rowena?’
‘Oh, just a diet coke, thanks. I’m driving,’ she replied, a twinkle in her eye as if she had already guessed Lorimer’s thoughts. As he left the pair at the table Lorimer wondered if Rowena Evans had deliberately chosen to come to the hotel knowing that Solly and he were staying over. Or was it just a coincidence?
‘You’re a criminal profiler, Dad says,’ she began. ‘Does that mean you have to interview lots of really nasty folk?’
Solomon laughed. ‘I don’t really interview people much at all during an investigation. That’s up to the investigating officer and his team. In this case, Detective Chief Inspector Lorimer.’
Rowena turned to glance at Lorimer who was patiently waiting his turn at the bar once more. She shrugged. ‘So what do you do, then? Weren’t you up here to question Sam and Angelica?’
Solly’s smile died on his lips. The girl’s eagerness to find out about his professional techniques seemed feigned suddenly. Had John Evans put his daughter up to this, perhaps?
‘Rowena, this is a murder investigation. A young woman from Harris died in pretty horrible circumstances and we are all trying to find out everything we can about the world she came from and the people who knew her. Anybody from the clinic who had met her might be of help,’ he told her, his voice deliberately grave.
‘So you don’t think it was Sam or Sister Angelica?’ Solly stared at the girl, not answering, until she dropped her gaze and flushed.
‘Sorry. I’m being a nuisance, aren’t I?’
‘You haven’t known these two patients very long, Rowena. Why all this solicitude for them?’
‘What?’
‘Solicitude.’ Solly stopped. The girl wasn’t one of his students; perhaps this was a term she might not understand. ‘Do you care about them a lot?’
‘Are you kidding?’ Rowena gasped with laughter. ‘I just want to know if I’m sleeping across the landing from a murderer!’
‘And do you have any reason to think you might be?’ Lorimer broke in, placing a bottle of Coke on the table.
‘Gosh, you gave me a fright. I didn’t hear you coming!’
‘Nervous type, are you?’ Lorimer joked, trying to make light of the girl’s reaction.
‘No, not usually.’
‘But you’re worried about the present house guests?’
‘Well, sort of. Not Angelica, really. She’s all right. Sam’s a bit creepy, though. Dad says he’s been through hell and back. I suppose I should feel sorry for them all. They’ve been so ill and all they want up here is a bit of peace and quiet. Well, they get that OK, I can tell you. This place is dead. OK, so I’m going with my pal to a disco tonight but that doesn’t happen very often.’
‘Sam Fulton. Is there any reason to feel a threat from him other than your own imaginings?’ Solly asked.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Has he actually done or said anything that gave you cause for concern?’
Rowena took a sip of her drink, considering Solly’s words. ‘No. It’s just that Dad seems to be with him all the time as if he’s worried to let Sam out of his sight. Like he’ll take him into town or they’ll both go up the hill with Sula. They even watch T.V. together. I mean, Dad never watches T. V He’d rather sit with his nose in a book.’
‘Me, too,’ Solly said and smiled as Rowena made a face at him.
Lorimer regarded the girl. She was restless on this island, a city girl who had been brought up here because of her parents’ work. ‘How long have you been living at Failte?’
‘Three years next August. I started at the Nicholson just after we came up.’
‘And have you any plans of your own for the future?’
‘Depends on my exam results, doesn’t it? Dad wants me to go to university but I’d rather get a job.’
‘In Glasgow?’
‘No way. I’m off to London first chance I get,’ she scoffed. ‘As far away from Lewis as I can manage.’
‘You’re not happy here, then?’ Solly inquired.
‘Oh, I’m happy enough. Mum and Dad are fine, you know. But I miss my friends from down South. Wish I could cadge a lift with you two or get a flight with Angelica tomorrow.’
Lorimer raised his eyebrows. ‘She’s leaving? Sister Angelica’s leaving the island tomorrow?’
‘Uhhuh. She told Dad she was going back to Glasgow just after you had left. Why?’ the girl looked from one man to the other sensing the impact of her revelation.
‘No reason,’ fibbed Lorimer though his mind was racing with all sorts of possibilities.
‘Oh, here’s my pal Heather,’ Rowena stood up suddenly, waving to a dark-haired girl who was standing looking around the bar. ‘Thanks for the drink. Be seeing you.’ She gave the two men a quick smile as she left, her mind already on her friend and the evening ahead.
‘So,’ Lorimer said, cradling the malt whisky in his hands. ‘Sister Angelica has had enough of the quiet life already.’
‘I wonder,’ returned Solly. ‘Is she regretting telling us about Leigh Quinn?’
‘Or is there some other reason that’s taking her back to Glasgow?’ Lorimer frowned. The sooner they were on that boat back to the mainland, the better. This trip to Lewis and Harris had left him with more questions than answers.