Deadly Still

CHAPTER NINE

Torquil was riding the Bullet when his phone went off in his pocket. He immediately slowed down, coasted into a layby and switched off the engine. He slipped his goggles up and answered. It was Lorna calling him from Stornoway about the post-mortem.

‘Are you all right, darling? Was it awful?’

‘It was really horrible, Torquil, seeing a young lad like that being cut open.’

‘Who performed the post-mortem?’

There was a pause as she consulted her notes and read from them. ‘A Dr Giles Lamont. He’s a forensic pathologist with the Crown Office and Procurator Fiscal’s office in Oban. He came over and did the post-mortem in the hospital PM room.’

‘What was his verdict?’

‘Well, you know the score, he was emphatic that the post-mortem is just the start of the process.’

‘So it was inconclusive?’

‘No, far from it. Young Jamie had a kidney trouble, which may have contributed to his death. He showed me. His left kidney was healthy looking, but the right one was tiny and hadn’t developed. Dr Lamont thinks it may never have been a functioning organ. He diagnosed it as renal dysplasia. He said it is not that uncommon and that because the left one worked, he would never have had any symptoms.’

‘So how does that contribute to his death?’

‘It’s complicated, but it has to do with what happens to the methanol in the body. An enzyme called alcohol dehydrogenase in the liver breaks all types of alcohol down. Ethanol, that’s ordinary alcohol, gets broken down into relatively harmless compounds. Methanol though, gets broken down into formaldehyde. That gets broken down by another enzyme called aldehyde dehydrogenase into formic acid. That is nasty toxic stuff that poisons the liver, the kidneys and the nervous system.’

‘And that was a problem because he only had one working kidney?’

‘That’s right. The formic acid is removed from the body by the kidneys and it would have been poisoned by the formic acid. That would have caused a vicious cycle because the formic acid would mount up very quickly and affect his brain and nervous system. Dr Lamont said he’ll need to have blood, stomach contents, urine and other body fluids tested for methanol, formaldehyde and especially the formic acid.’

‘It’s as well that Ralph McLelland took bloods when he confirmed death. So was the respiratory paralysis the cause of death?’

‘It’s complicated, so bear with me. He was pretty sure it was asphyxiation, but there are two possible reasons for that. It looks like he had what they call a pulmonary aspiration, which means he had inhaled vomit. There was vomit in his lungs and in his trachea, probably enough to cut off his airway. That means he may have choked on his vomit. Death can occur very quickly when that happens. His brain had little haemorrhages that he called petechiae and his lungs were also covered in them, which he said is suggestive of asphyxiation. So, poor Jamie either stopped breathing and had a fit as a result of the respiratory paralysis or he inhaled vomit and choked, causing him to have a fit.’

Torquil clicked his tongue. ‘I see, complicated indeed. But one way or another the methyl alcohol is the indirect cause of death.’

‘That’s right. As I say, we’ll know more after all the lab work and the microscopy has been done.’

Torquil sighed as he took out his notebook and pen and jotted down all the salient points. ‘Send me a copy of all this will you, darling. It will help until we get the full report.’

‘OK. I’ll email them across in a few minutes. Where are you?’

‘I’m by the roadside. I was on the Bullet, but I’ll be going straight to the station now and I’ll get it then. So, did you have a chance to visit Catriona McDonald?’

‘I did, and I talked to both the consultant nephrologist and the ophthalmologist. It’s early days, but she should recover her vision. Catriona’s mother was with her when I saw her. The poor kid feels grotty and she’s understandably really emotional, as is her mother. Catriona just can’t remember much at all. She’s devastated about Jamie and upset that Vicky has not turned up yet.’

‘Was it just a post exam adventure?’

‘It was. Apparently Vicky and Catriona had told wee porkies about where they were. She said that Jamie just does what he wants anyway. Jamie had brought the peatreek bottle and Vicky and she had brought the cola and the nibbles. She thinks they all just got drunk and passed out. In the morning she woke up, couldn’t see anything and stumbled outside. That was when Morag found her, I think.’

She paused, then: ‘Any news about Vicky?’

‘Nothing yet, but I’m expecting Morag to call soon.’

‘Well, like they say about no news.’

After Lorna called off, Torquil sat drumming his fingers on the tank of the Bullet. He was worried and seriously doubted the wisdom of the old axiom. In this case, no news certainly didn’t seem like good news.

Nathan Westwood was busy painting in the studio at the back of his Art and Antique Gallery when the door opened and Helen Beamish came in.

‘Nathan, I’ve come about that commission,’ she called through, more to make sure that there was no-one in the studio with him.

A curtain swished and he appeared, wiping a brush with a cloth. ‘Ah yes, I’m interested in that, Mrs Beamish.’ Then lowering his voice. ‘Would you like to come through to my studio to discuss it?’

As she walked past him he crossed to the door and glanced through the window at the misty street to make sure no one was approaching the gallery from either direction. He clicked the latch on the door and turned the sign round to read ‘Closed.’

Once behind the curtain, Helen flung her arms about his neck and kissed him passionately. ‘God, I’ve missed you,’ she said, finally, breaking their clinch.

Nathan nodded in the direction of the chaise longue that he used to make sketches or photograph clients, and which he and Helen used on occasions for urgent or opportunist sex.

She shook her head regretfully. ‘There isn’t time, darling. We have to be so careful now and can’t afford any more stupid mistakes. We’ve both got too much to lose.’

Nathan scowled. ‘Does he suspect?’

‘He suspects something. He’s been watching me closely and I think he’s been following me. I found some high powered binoculars in the garage. They’re new. He lied to me and said he’d come back early because the case had been settled already. Well, I checked and it had, but the day before. I think he came back to the island the night before to spy on me. To spy on us!’

‘Christ! Then we might need to think about —’

She put a finger to his lips. ‘We have to be extra careful and make sure we cover our tracks.’

Ewan had spent the past hour on the phone dealing with islanders worried about Vicky or wanting news about Catriona. He gave them all as much information as he was able to, always maintaining his usual polite manner.

Penny’s door was ajar and she had found herself listening with more than half an ear. Try as she might to just get on with her own work she realised how much she liked his lilting accent and his ever friendly manner. She felt guilty about being so clinical earlier, so she went out.

‘Would you — er — like a cup of tea, Ewan?’ she asked, standing with her hands in her pockets. ‘I’d better get used to making it, since I’m the new kid on the block, so to speak.’

Ewan beamed at her. ‘Oh, that would be grand, Penny. Shall I show you where everything is?’

She toed the floor and immediately wanted to rebuke herself. Stop behaving like a sixteen-year-old. Just make him a cup of tea and then get back to work.

The bell rang and the outer door opened. A moment later Calum Steele came in.

‘Ah, Constable McPhee, the very man I wanted to see,’ he said in a deliberately sing-song manner. He grinned and then seeing Penny behind Ewan, he became serious. ‘You will be the new Detective Constable, I think?’ he said, stepping right up to the counter and extending a hand across it.

‘DC Penny Faversham,’ Ewan introduced, ‘meet Calum Steele, the editor of the West Uist Chronicle. He sniffs out the news like no one else.’

Calum stood straight and puffed out his chest. ‘Oh, we journalists have our ways of picking up information.’

‘Pleased to meet you, Calum,’ Penny replied, shaking his hand. ‘And how exactly did you learn about me?’

Calum tapped the side of his nose. ‘Sorry, it is a golden rule of journalism, DC Faversham, we never reveal our sources,’ he said in his most practised enigmatic manner. Then with a click of his tongue: ‘You’ve arrived on the island in the middle of a tragic happening, of course. I just popped in to see how Angus Mackintosh is bearing up. Is there any news on Vicky Spiers?’

‘Inspector McKinnon took him to see the body and he’s understandably distraught. He insisted on going home. As for Vicky, I have no new information, Calum,’ Ewan replied.

‘Pity. And what about Robbie Ochterlonie? That was a sad case.’ He motioned as if he was about to drink from an invisible glass. ‘Too much whisky, I hear?’

Penny had been warned about Calum by Lorna and understood that he was fishing for information. ‘I’m afraid that we are not in a position to comment yet, Calum. It is an unexpected death and has been referred to the Procurator Fiscal, so we are awaiting the result of the post-mortem examination.’

‘Ah, that’s what I thought. Is Torquil in yet?’

Ewan assured him that he wasn’t.

‘Well, tell him if he wants any more help from the Chronicle to give me a bell.’ He nodded to them. ‘Good to meet you, Penny. I look forward to working with you and getting to know you better.’

Once the newspaperman had gone Ewan gave a short laugh. ‘That’s typical of Calum Steele. He came in just to check you out, you know. If you hadn’t been in the office he’d have had some ploy to get introduced to you. He can be a nuisance, but he’s basically a good lad.’

‘Well, now he knows about me, why don’t we take this opportunity while its quiet to do the same. The boss gave me some tasks to do and I’ve got a five minutes to spare, so how about if I make that tea and you can explain to me about his highland hammer and those murder shoes of yours.’

When Torquil arrived at the station he told Ewan and Penny that he wanted to have a meeting with the team in half an hour.

‘What about the search — will Morag be coming back?’ Ewan asked.

‘No, they’ve found a trainer in mud near the old Strathshiffin Road. There’s a good chance it’s one of Vicky’s, so we’ll need to check. Morag will be moving the search area accordingly. I’m bringing the twins in and we’ll skype Morag.’

Once the Drummond twins arrived back, both dressed in their heavy waterproofs rather than police uniforms, Ewan came in with a tray of mugs of tea.

‘Things have moved on, folks,’ Torquil said, sitting behind his desk and referring to his notebook. ‘Firstly, Lorna called me to say she attended the post-mortem on Jamie Mackintosh. The pathologist has to look at slides and get the results of tests back, but he was convinced that he had only one working kidney, which meant he wasn’t able to clear the methanol and all the toxins from his body. He either vomited and inhaled his vomit, or he choked and then had a fit. Essentially, whatever the prime mechanism, he asphyxiated.’

Penny winced. ‘That’s horrible. He drowned in his own vomit.’

Torquil nodded. ‘And if the bottle from the pillbox is be shown to have contained methyl alcohol then whoever supplied it could be facing a charge of culpable homicide.’

Penny whistled and opened the file in her hands. ‘In that case it really is serious, boss. I checked with Ian Gillesbie, the Senior Scene Examiner and the first results are back. The bottle had an extremely high concentration of methanol in it.’ She ran a finger down the page. ‘They also tested the blood samples that Dr McLelland took and they’ll be testing samples that the pathologist takes straight from the body. They’ll be able to see if it matches, although it sounds as if there isn’t much doubt.’

Wallace was sitting with his arms folded. ‘So this was definitely peatreek?’

‘Looks like it,’ said Torquil.

‘How did they get hold of it?’ Douglas asked.

‘Catriona McDonald told Lorna that Jamie brought it.’

‘And where did he get it from?’ Ewan asked. ‘Does Angus have a still?’

‘That’s what we need to find out, Ewan,’ Torquil replied. ‘There must be several home stills around the island.’

He turned to Penny. ‘Illicit distilling used to be common on the islands. Folk had them on farms, on crofts or on one of the many isles around the coast. We need to find them all and have their whisky confiscated and checked for methanol.’

‘Shall I do that, boss?’ Penny asked.

‘No, Wallace and Douglas can do that. They know the island and they probably have a good idea of who could be distilling.’

Wallace harrumphed. ‘It maybe not so simple, Piper. These days all sorts of folk are distilling spirits. Rum, gin, vodka. You can get the tackle on the internet, no bother.’

Torquil nodded, recollecting only too well his conversation with Lorna about whisky for their wedding favours. ‘Aye, Lorna was talking about this. Artisan gin, she called it. She even knows where to get it on the island. I’ll need to find out from her.’ He turned again to Penny. ‘What I need you to do is find out everything about whisky making, especially illicit whisky and how they make peatreek. Also, delve into the medical details. We need to know all about methanol, its properties, toxic amounts, the works.’

Douglas had been sipping his tea and held the mug up reflectively. ‘This is a really strong cup of tea.’

Ewan beamed. ‘Aye, just the way everyone likes it.’

Douglas tapped the mug with a fingernail. ‘That’s as maybe, but I was thinking that the strength is something that can vary, just as the strength of peatreek must vary. There won’t be any quality control over it.’

Wallace nodded. ‘Aye, but that’s just the strength of the alcohol. There shouldn’t be any methyl alcohol in it at all.’

‘That’s exactly right,’ said Torquil. ‘That’s the point about distilling. The first alcohol to come out of the distillation process is the methanol, because it has a lower boiling point. They call that the foreshot and they throw it away. Penny, I want you to visit the newest proper distillery, its owned by Hamish McNab. That’s a good place to familiarise yourself with the process after you’ve done a bit of research. Speak to Hamish McNab and also have a word with Keith Finlay, his head distiller. Hamish poached him from the Glen Corlin distillery a few years ago. He’s a decent chap and he’ll explain the whole process. We need to know what they do with their foreshot. I’ll be doing the same at the Glen Corlin distillery.’

‘I’m just a bit worried, Piper,’ Wallace stated. ‘There may be a good chance that whoever supplied this peatreek has disposed of their still and of their peatreek.’

‘That’s why we need to move fast and also why we need to keep quiet about this. That means being careful about what we tell the media.’

Ewan snapped his fingers. ‘Calum Steel was in earlier. He came to check out DI Faversham, I think, but he was doing his usual fishing. He asked for you to call him when you have more information, boss.’

Penny nodded. ‘He was also asking about the other death. I told him we were waiting on the post-mortem.’

‘I’ll deal with Calum,’ Torquil replied. He sat forward and touched the mouse on his desk to open his computer. ‘Right, now about Vicky Spiers. Let’s skype Morag.’

The others clustered round behind Torquil as Morag’s image appeared on the screen. They could see the shelves of books behind her as she sat at the small desk inside the library van.

‘We’ve moved the base to the Strathshiffin Road layby,’ she informed them. ‘Douglas has the trainer all bagged up.’

‘It’s on the desk in front of me, Morag,’ said Torquil. ‘It’s an Adidas trainer and looks fairly new. We’ll be checking if it’s Vicky’s with the Spiers straight after this. Any fresh developments?’

‘Nothing new. But the teams are scouring the area inch by inch. I’ve lost a lot, though. I have only a third of the folk that I had yesterday.’

‘Well, we can’t make people volunteer. We just have to be grateful for those who give their time.’ He quickly gave her a recap on the result of the post-mortem. ‘So it’s a possible culpable homicide case now. We’re going to begin searching for illicit stills on the island and also check the two distilleries for how they deal with their foreshot. Do you have any idea of anyone who’s making their own whisky or other spirits?’

‘There is Maisie McIvor on Harbour Street. She makes artisan gin. It’s not an illicit still, though. She has a rectifier’s licence as its all small scale. Lorna and I were talking about wedding favours only the other day.’

Torquil grimaced as he recalled the phone conversation he had with Lorna. He had not realised that Morag and she had already been talking about it. He forced himself to keep his mind on the important matter in hand and not be diverted. There would be plenty of time to think about the wedding later.

‘Aye, Lachlan also mentioned her to me. He said she makes fragrances. But how about anyone else?’

Morag shook her head. ‘I don’t know, I’m afraid. Is there anything else you want me to do?’

‘No, you’ve got your hands full there. Leave the trainer with us to identify and just let us know if anything else turns up. Hopefully it will be when we find Vicky alive and well.’

Penny had gone out of the office to answer her phone during the skype session. She came back in eager to tell the others her news.

‘That was Ian Gillesbie,’ she said. ‘More results. Firstly, the fingerprinting at the pillbox only showed up three sets of prints. It looks likely that they were only from the teenagers.’

‘And the second thing?’ asked Torquil.

‘They tested the bottle of whisky residue from Robbie Ochterlonie’s cabin. It is exactly the same composition as the stuff in the bottle from the pillbox!’

Torquil sat back in his chair and blew air through his lips. ‘That’s no coincidence, then, is it? They must be from the same source.’ He drummed his fingers on his desk. ‘And Vicky Spiers worked part time at the Hydro along with Catriona McDonald. Task number one is to see if the trainer is Vicky’s. Then the second task is to find out exactly where these bottles of peatreek came from.’ He allocated tasks to them. ‘OK people, let’s get started.’