I'll Keep You Safe

Chapter Thirty

Niamh and Steiner lounged in soft chairs looking out at the Minch, sunlight playing in burned-out patches on the water, dazzling briefly before vanishing to appear somewhere else, like spotlights shining through breaks in the cloud. Successive headlands to the south faded in silhouette into the mist of rain and late afternoon sun.

Steiner was on to his second whisky soda, and Niamh was troubled. She said, ‘You don’t really think that the mafia would have killed Ruairidh in revenge for telling that story in a newspaper?’

Steiner shrugged and sipped thoughtfully on his whisky. ‘The truth of it is, the thing that happened with Capaldi and his guys... it was just one of life’s little brain-fuckers. Comes out of the blue, and you can’t quite believe what it is you’ve just witnessed. I mean, hell, it happened so fast I never even had time to shit myself.’ He grinned, then the smile slowly faded. ‘But damnit, Niamh, it’s the kind of story you tell in smoke-filled rooms with old friends or trusted customers when you’ve had a drink or three. It just ain’t something you brag about in the national media. Know what I mean? Even though it was a long time ago. Jees, someone out there might just have thought that Ruairidh was trying to profit from it. And you don’t tell tales about the mafia for commercial gain. These guys have got long memories and hold grudges for even longer.’

It was something that would never have occurred to Niamh. And it was disconcerting. ‘That would seem like a lot of trouble to go to for very little.’

‘What you and I think of as very little, Niamh, ain’t always seen that way by others. And it’s classic mob MO. Bombs and cars.’ He finished his drink and stood up. ‘But who the hell knows? If it was them ain’t nobody ever gonna tell.’

He crossed to lay his glass on the breakfast bar and collect his coat and hat.

‘I better go. Get myself checked in.’

Niamh crossed the room to help him on with his coat and give him a hug. ‘Take care on the road. I know you’re not used to driving on the left.’

He shook his head. ‘Gotta think it through at every junction. Crazy thing you Brits do, driving on the wrong side of the road.’ He kissed her cheek. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow, at the funeral. I guess someone at the hotel can point me in the right direction.’

She nodded and stood by the open door to watch him turn the Shogun and lurch off up the track towards Bilascleiter. This brief moment of animation and unexpected laughter, memories shared with an old friend, had passed too quickly and left her feeling bereft and lonely again. In her heart she didn’t really believe that the mafia had anything to do with Ruairidh’s death. That was just Jacob Steiner being dramatic. After all, why would the mob have sent her and Ruairidh emails? What did they know of, or care about, Irina Vetrov?

She looked at her waterproof jacket hanging on the rack by the door, mud-caked wellies on the floor beneath it, and decided she would rather walk out along the cliffs in the hope of a good strong wind to blow away her mood, than sit festering in an empty house.