Coffin Road

Chapter nineteen

When the door to the interview room closed behind the suspect, Gunn stood for a moment, gazing from the window, his mind a firestorm of mixed emotions. He became aware of Detective Constable Smith watching him, and he turned to find himself fixed in the other man’s hawklike stare.

‘What?’ he said, almost defensively, as if there were an accusation in Smith’s eyes.

‘You believe him?’

‘It’s the most unlikely story I’ve ever heard, Hector.’

‘Aye, but do you believe it?’

Gunn thought about it. ‘On balance, probably not.’ But there was still a part of him that found quite compelling the tale that Maclean, or whatever his name was, had told them. And something in the way he told it that had the ring of truth. ‘We need to check out his story about Neal David Maclean.’ He opened his folder on the desk and shuffled through its contents, finding and retrieving the birth certificate. He handed it to Smith. ‘Should be simple enough to check this out. There’s an address written on the back. Let’s see if the man whose birth certificate it is lived or lives there, and if he’s dead, as our man says.’

‘And if he is?’

‘Then we’ll know that at least a part of his story is true.’ He glanced at Smith and saw in his face that his junior officer was dubious of the credence Gunn seemed to be giving the suspect’s story. And as if to justify his thinking, Gunn said, ‘Mrs Macdonald, the lady who owns Dune Cottage, told me that she met our man on the road about a week or so ago, around the time the pathologist thinks the bloke on Eilean Mòr might have been killed.’ He consulted his notes. ‘He was soaked to the skin, she said, and wearing a life jacket. He’d come up from the beach, head bleeding, and was shivering so much he could hardly speak. Her exact words? He hardly seemed to know me.’ He looked up at Smith. ‘All of which would tie in with his claim to have been washed up on the beach, unable to remember what had happened.’

‘Very convenient, if he’d just killed that fella.’

‘Well, to be fair to him, he’s admitting that’s a possibility. Though we don’t have a single piece of evidence, for the moment, to suggest that he did.’

‘Well, it’ll all be out of our hands soon enough.’

Gunn grunted. ‘When does the CIO arrive?’

‘On a flight from Inverness sometime tomorrow.’

Gunn closed his folder. With an average murder rate on the islands of just one a century, it was felt that investigating officers in Stornoway didn’t have the requisite experience. And so any time anything interesting happened, Police Scotland liked to send a more senior officer from the mainland to take charge. Gunn breathed his frustration. ‘It would be nice if we could have this all wrapped up before he gets here.’

‘It would,’ Smith said, though it was clear from his expression he didn’t think it likely. ‘Oh, by the way, our man’s car... It’s a long-term rental, paid for by some company down south. Might take a while to find out exactly who’s behind it.’ He turned towards the door. ‘I’ll check out this bloke Maclean.’

‘While you’re at it, Hector, might as well run a wee check on that couple who’re staying up the road from Dune Cottage.’ He ran an eye over his notes again. ‘Jon and Sally Harrison. From Manchester, apparently. She clearly lied to me about her relationship with our man. And her husband says he’s in concrete.’

Smith chuckled. He knew there was a joke in there somewhere, but he couldn’t think what it was and his smile faded. ‘Will do,’ he said.