Henderson was a tall skinny man, who moved back along the path with all the grace of a crane with knee problems. He looked as if, at any moment, he might miss a step and topple awkwardly over the cliff edge, but somehow maintained his equilibrium long enough to make it to the rear entrance to the chalet.
McKay closed his eyes for a moment, as if summoning some telepathic power. ‘You can come out now.’
DS Ginny Horton stepped out from among the trees. ‘How did you know I was there?’
‘I’m a bloody detective, Ginny. I have the gift of being able to spot people standing ten feet away. You should have joined me and Jock.’
‘You seemed to be having a moment. I didn’t like to interrupt.’
McKay gave a snort of disgust. ‘Jock was having a moment. I was just listening. Or, rather, not listening.’
‘Not like Jock,’ Ginny observed. ‘He’s not one for moments.’
‘I never imagined the undead had feelings.’
‘If this one doesn’t get to you,’ Ginny said pointedly, ‘I don’t know what would.’
‘Aye, you’re not wrong. One hell of a business. How were our friends over the way?’
Despite his shock at the discovery, Murray Johnson had done a decent job of persuading the guests in the other chalets not to leave until the police arrived. A couple of families had ignored his request to stay put, but the majority had co-operated and were being interviewed by a team of uniformed officers.
Ginny Horton had taken on the task of interviewing Mark and Catherine Fanning, the couple who’d first drawn Murray Johnson’s attention to the disturbance the previous night. She sat herself down on the bench beside McKay. ‘They’re a bit in shock, to be honest. I didn’t tell them what had happened, but they’d worked out it was something serious. They’d obviously got to know the Dawsons a bit – kids played together and all that – so it’s knocked them back. And of course they’re blaming themselves. Wishing they’d done something when they first heard all the noise.’
‘Would probably have made bugger all difference. At best, we’d have just been on the scene twelve hours earlier.’
‘That might have made a difference.’
‘You reckon? Looked to me like they’d all have died pretty instantly. And the perpetrator’s not gone anywhere in the meantime, except maybe to the fiery furnaces.’
‘We don’t know that for sure yet.’
‘You have a different view? I mean, I’m keeping an open mind till we’ve had all the pathology and forensic reports but only because that’s what they taught us back in detective school. Doesn’t seem to me that this is likely to be anything other than some crazy bastard topping his wife and kids and then plunging the knife into his own throat. The question is why.’
‘The Fannings reckoned they’d seen no sign of any problems. Paul and Maria Dawson seemed a perfect couple and there were no signs of any issues with the children.’
‘They’re always the ones to watch, though, aren’t they? The idyllic families who seem to live the perfect lovey-dovey existence. Who knows what poison is churning below the surface? What else did they tell you?’
‘There wasn’t a lot to add to what they’d already told Johnson. Last time they spoke to any of the Dawsons was yesterday afternoon, when Catherine Fanning had a brief chat with Maria Dawson. Again, no sign of anything out of the ordinary. Catherine Fanning had suggested they eat dinner together as it was their last night here, but Maria Dawson said her husband was expecting a visitor.’
‘She didn’t say what kind of visitor?’
‘That was all she said. Apparently, there was a car parked outside the Dawsons’ place in the earlier part of yesterday evening, but the Fannings didn’t see it arrive or leave.’
‘I assume they couldn’t provide any information on the car?’
Ginny shrugged. ‘Something big. Dark coloured – maybe black or dark grey. Maybe a BMW or an Audi, something like that.’
McKay sighed. ‘Aye, that and two quid gets me a cup of coffee. We can check whether Johnson’s got any CCTV set up here, I suppose. Was this car still there when they heard all the shouting later?’
‘Have a guess.’
‘They don’t know. What do I win?’
‘My undying loyalty and admiration, obviously. But, yes, you’re right. They weren’t sure. Though they thought it probably wasn’t.’
‘Sometimes I wonder why we even bother. So what was it they heard?’
‘Something that started like an argument, but then got increasingly heated. Screaming, she reckoned, and probably not just one person.’
‘The children?’
‘Seems likely.’
‘So a lot depends on this mysterious car,’ McKay said. ‘Who was the visitor? Did they somehow contribute to whatever the argument was about? And – above all – what time did they leave? Shall we go to see what else our friend Murray Johnson has to say?’ He pushed himself to his feet, his eyes still focused on the sea, as if he were trying to erase the images he’d witnessed earlier.
They walked back through the trees to the central track that led down through the cluster of chalets. The area around the crime scene was still busy with uniformed officers, and the site was cluttered with marked vehicles. ‘Not ideal publicity for the place,’ Horton commented.
‘Not in the short term,’ McKay said. ‘Next year the place’ll be packed with people wanting to see the crime scene.’
‘He might have more difficulty letting the scene itself.’
‘They’ll be flocking to stay in there. There’s no shortage of ghouls.’
They found Murray Johnson in a small office and workshop near the entrance to the site. McKay tapped on the window and Johnson waved him to come in. ‘I’m afraid there’s not much room,’ he said, as they crowded into the small space. Another man had been sitting in the corner and now rose to greet the arrivals.
‘Fergus Campbell, my deputy,’ Johnson explained.
‘Deputy and general dogsbody. I’ll leave you to it if you need a bit of space.’
‘No bother, Mr Campbell. I’m sure we can all squeeze in. Might be useful to talk to you both together.’
‘Aye, you’ll get twice as much blether.’ Campbell lowered himself back down on to a stool in the corner.
The office contained little more than a desk, a handful of stacked chairs and a filing cabinet. The rear of the room led through a small workshop with a workbench and a row of racks containing what McKay assumed were spare parts relating to the chalets. Johnson looked apologetic. ‘We don’t often use this place. Fergus had the workshop mainly to do running repairs on items from the chalets. I come up occasionally to deal with suppliers, but that’s about it. It’s not exactly a home from home.’
‘I’m sure we’ll manage.’ McKay slid one of the chairs across to Horton, and then sat down himself, gesturing to Johnson and Campbell to do the same. ‘It’s not exactly a social call. We’ll try not to detain you any longer than we need to. I’m sure you’ve plenty on your plate.’
‘You can say that again. Your people reckoned it was okay for me to continue letting the other chalets? I hope that’s true because most of the new guests are already on their way.’
‘I don’t see why not. As long as we keep the crime scene well protected. We’ll need to be in there for a while yet. What about the people who were due to rent that?’
‘I’ve been in touch with them. Told them what had happened – not in any detail, just as you said, but just to say there’s been an incident which requires police investigation. Luckily, I’ve been able to find them a place at another site up the coast. Not quite as convenient, but more luxurious. I’ve taken the hit on the cost, but they’re happy enough.’
‘You reckon the other guests will be okay to stay with something like this in their midst?’ Horton asked.
Johnson shrugged. ‘I’ve explained it to the ones I could get hold of. They seemed happy enough but it might be different if word gets out on the grapevine about what’s really happened.’
‘And it will,’ McKay growled.
‘We’ll just have to play it by ear, then.’ Johnson shook his head. ‘I still can’t quite believe it.’
‘How long have you been running this place, Mr Johnson?’
‘Over ten years now. Attempt to diversify from the farming. I’ve still got the farm, arable and livestock, but it’s a precarious business. This place gives a solid income for a good part of the year.’
‘What about the Covid lockdown?’ Horton asked. ‘That must have been tough for you.’
‘Bloody tough. We more or less had to shut down the place. Got some bits and pieces of support from the government, but nothing like we really needed. Just hope all this doesn’t finally pull the rug from under the place. Sorry, that probably sounds a bit insensitive.’
‘You’ve a business to run,’ McKay said. ‘Nice place, too. You must get a lot of repeat visitors?’
‘We do. Some people book for next year as soon as they’ve finished this. This year’s been a bit different, though, with the lockdown. People were worried about booking overseas holidays, so they’ve booked to come here instead. So we’ve had a lot of first-timers over the summer.’
‘Including the Dawsons?’
‘They were actually Scottish, unlike most of our guests over the summer, and seemed familiar with the Highlands – more than a lot of this year’s crowd, anyway – but they hadn’t stayed here before.’
‘What can you tell us about them?’
‘Not a great deal, I’m afraid. I printed off their booking details in case it’s of any use to you. But it doesn’t tell you much. Husband, wife, three children. Home address in the Borders. Paid the deposit and balance promptly on credit card. That’s about it.’
McKay scanned through the papers. ‘What did you make of them?’
‘I didn’t see a lot of them. I try to make a point of greeting all the new arrivals when they first get here. Just makes the whole thing a bit more personal. Say hello. Give them a quick tour of the chalet. Tell them a bit about the area, places to eat and drink locally, bit of a chat about what sort of things they want to do on the holiday, and give them a few recommendations if they don’t know the area. That sort of stuff. But I only met them for a few minutes, really. Seemed pleasant enough. Made all the right polite noises about the location and the chalet itself. Like I say, they seemed to know the area reasonably well. Not the Black Isle in particular, but the Highlands in general. I think the husband had done some work up here.’
‘What sort of stuff were they looking to do on their holiday?’ Horton asked.
‘Mainly just get a bit of rest, from what they said. Husband was in business in some form. He was just looking for a couple of weeks with the family not doing too much. I remember his wife making some mildly caustic remark about there always being a first time.’
McKay raised an eyebrow. ‘Some tension between them?’
‘Just the usual married couple banter, I thought. But it was just a brief chat. To be honest, I was a bit surprised they’d chosen to come here.’
‘Why do you say that?’
‘We’re proud of the old place, but it’s not the most upmarket set-up. I’d have expected someone with their money either to stay in one of the hotels or to have booked one of the posher holiday cottages. And probably on the west coast rather than here, if that’s not too disloyal to the Black Isle. The real money tends to head west.’
‘Maybe they left it too late?’
‘That’s what I assumed. We were worried it might be slim pickings this year without the Americans and the Europeans, but everywhere’s been booked solid. The Dawsons booked fairly early in the year, but it might still have been too late to get what they really wanted.’
‘What about the children?’ McKay asked. ‘How did they seem?’
Johnson was silent for a second, clearly thinking back to what he had witnessed in the chalet earlier in the morning. ‘Just kids. The boy looked only about five or six, the two girls a bit older. They were running around slightly manically, but I imagine that was because they’d been cooped up in the car for hours.’ He stopped suddenly and swallowed. ‘Sorry. It’s just…’
‘I know,’ McKay said, in a tone that sounded uncharacteristically tender. ‘Take your time.’
‘It just seems such a bloody shame.’ Johnson blinked. ‘How the hell could someone do that?’
‘That’s what we need to find out,’ McKay said. ‘What motivated this. Why it happened.’
‘I’m assuming the father…’
‘It’s too early to offer a view, Mr Johnson. We’ve a lot of work to do first.’
‘Aye, of course. I didn’t mean…’
‘We’re keeping an open mind at present, at least till we’ve finished the preliminary investigations. Is there anything else you can tell us about the Dawsons you think might be pertinent to the inquiry?’
‘I don’t think so. As I say, I only met them for a few minutes.’
‘What about you, Mr Campbell?’
‘Not much I can add,’ Campbell said. ‘I spoke to them a couple of times, but that was about it.’
‘Do you spend a lot of time up here?’ Horton asked.
‘Maybe a day a week on average during the season. My main work’s down on the farm, but I come up here to keep things ticking over. Bit of grass cutting round the chalets, the odd repair, even stuff like replacing light bulbs if guests ask for it. Whatever needs doing. I’ve been up a bit more than usual in the last couple of days because we were doing some work in one of the chalets. Happened to be walking through the site when they were on their way in or out the chalet, so said hello and had a brief chat. Just to show willing, really.’
‘How did they seem?’
‘Like Murray said, pleasant enough. Comfortable in chatting to the hired help, if you get my drift. If I’m honest, I thought the husband had a slightly condescending air. A boss who’s used to talking down to the workforce. Not unpleasantly, but as if he saw himself as a cut above.’
McKay nodded. ‘What about Maria Dawson?’
‘The wife? Not sure. I did notice that he did most of the talking. She just stood there smiling. She looked a bit bored, to be honest.’
‘Bored?’
‘Not sure how else to describe it. As if she’d seen her husband do his country squire bit before and wasn’t keen to sit through it again. Sorry if I’m talking out of turn.’
‘Not at all. That’s very helpful. Anything else, Mr Campbell?’
‘Don’t think so. I bumped into them one other time, but they were just getting into the car, so it was nothing more than a nod and a hello.’
‘If anything else does occur to you both, please let us know. Anything you think might be relevant, even if it’s just something trivial. There’s one other question. Do you have CCTV on site?’
‘Some,’ Johnson said. ‘There’s a camera at the entrance, and a couple of others around the site. We mainly put them in because we’ve had the odd bit of vandalism over the winter months.’
‘Anything on the chalets themselves?’
‘We’ve talked about it, but I didn’t want anything that would feel too intrusive for guests. Some of them don’t like it if they think they’re being watched, even if it’s for their own safety and security.’
‘Can you let us have any footage from yesterday?’
‘Sure. It’s all electronic, but I can give you the data. Do you think it’s likely to be useful?’
‘We’re at the stage where every little helps. Or might do. We’ll leave you to it.’ McKay paused. ‘I ought to warn you that, once word gets out, the media will be all over this. We’ll do our best to keep them away from you and your guests, but they’re cunning and tenacious buggers, if you get my drift.’
Johnson nodded, wearily. ‘What do I say to them?’
‘If you want my advice, as little as possible. You may find that you even get financial offers for your “exclusive story”. I can’t stop you talking to them, but I wouldn’t advise it. And don’t believe a word the buggers tell you about what they’ll pay.’
Johnson gave an involuntary shudder. ‘I wouldn’t want to profit from – well, from that.’
‘No decent person would,’ McKay agreed. ‘Unfortunately, not all tabloid journalists fit into that category. Let us know if you have any problems.’
‘I will.’ Johnson still looked mildly stunned, as if his understanding of the world had been shifted irrevocably by what he’d witnessed that morning. Join the club, pal, McKay thought. Except that, in McKay’s case, this kind of event tended mostly to confirm everything he’d always assumed about his fellow man.