“Paula, it’s me.”
“Chris!! What the hell’s happening? Is Joan in trouble again?”
“Deep, deep doo-doo.”
I ran through what I’d learned from Inspector Harris.
“Are you going to the scene yourself?” she asked.
“No way. The department paid for this conference, I’m enjoying it, and I don’t feel like bending my life out of shape again because of Joan. I’m sure she’s going to show up at the nearest bar.”
“Will you be able to concentrate?”
“Come on, Paula. You know me. Concentration is my middle name.”
“Oops, sorry I asked.”
I heard somebody in the background calling Paula’s name.
“Coming,” she called. “God, Chris, I’m sorry. I’ve got to go. We have a planning meeting ten minutes ago. Yet another new piece of software they want us to try.”
“How’s work?”
“Okay, good, busy. Everybody’s looking forward to you getting started.”
I doubted that, but even her saying so gave me a pinch of homesickness. Paula was the one who’d talked me into applying for the job as a criminal profiler at the OPP centre in Orillia. I did get the position, more correctly called a Behavioural Science Analyst, but I’d been there only a week when Jim suggested I attend the Edinburgh conference. Somebody else had been slated to go but had come down with a pregnancy. I was really the only one who could take her place.
“Say hello to all those eager folks then. Give Big Al a hug. Tell him I’m better.”
“Are you?”
“Of course. The Scottish air is bracing. Just what the doctor ordered.”
“Chris, don’t bullshit me. How’re you doing?”
“Better, truly I am. I’m only thinking about Sondra once every hour instead of every two minutes.”
“Good. There’s been no new news on that front. The press have gone scragging after some other target.” Another call in the background. “Shit. I’ve got to go. Call me immediately with the latest, do you hear?”
We hung up and I went back to gazing out of the window, which I seemed to be doing a lot lately. The famous castle loomed over the city from its black crags, and even from here I could see it was speckled with tourists. I’d done a quick skim of the guidebook on the flight over, and I knew this castle wasn’t quite as bloodstained as most. Nevertheless, the sombre grey walls and protective battlements were reminders of a much grimmer past, when life was cheap and destiny was determined by the reigning powers. Usually, I find history keeps our petty pace of daily living in perspective, but this afternoon I wasn’t comforted. In spite of my defiant words to Paula, I was a tad preoccupied. Frankly, I didn’t really believe Joan was dead. There had been too many times before when she’d vanished from sight only to surface with a new boyfriend in a new town. When I was quite young, these disappearances threw me into hysteria, although then the absence might last only a night or two. Since we had no family to turn to, I was usually left with a neighbour (resentful/judgemental, kind to me/indifferent to me). By the time I was fifteen, I’d become inured to these separations, and I moved in with Paula’s family, the Jacksons. It was Joan’s turn to have hysterics. She accused Alice Jackson of trying to replace her in my affections. Too late for that. I refused to talk to her or come home, and after weeks of drink-induced maudlin tears, Joan finally gave up and left me in peace. I pretended the Jackson family was my own flesh and blood, and they were generous enough not to make an issue of it.
As if on cue, a shadow had drifted across the sun and the sky was quickly looking overcast, threatening rain. I went back to the telephone and called Inspector Harris, who answered right away.
Something of what I was feeling (righteously pissed off) must have come through in my voice, because he wasn’t as supercilious as before. On occasion, it helps to have attitude. I told him about the call from the B&B lady and gave him the address and phone number.
“As a matter of fact, I was about to telephone you meself. We have found a small suitcase and a handbag that must belong to Miss Morris. Her passport is inside, along with her driver’s licence and Visa card.”
“Was there any money?”
“Forty pounds sterling and some loose change. Some Scottish coins and a Canadian dollar coin.”
“A loonie.”
“Beg pardon?”
“That’s what we call them. From the moment they were minted they’ve been called loonies. It’s from the loon on the reverse side. It’s a national bird.”
“Ay. Well I should say then, we found one loonie in the change purse and the rest were of Scottish denomination, not called anything other than pees.”
I could tell he was trying to make nice.
“We missed both the handbag and the suitcase at first because the boot, as we call it, was quite crushed into the back seat. We had a hard time prising it open.”
“I wanted to ask you something, Inspector. You said the road drops off at the crash site. Is it near the sea? Could she have drowned?”
A call came through and beeped him, but this time he ignored it.
“Ay. I’m afraid we canna rule that out. She would have to walk off a wee space, but it isn’t totally out of the question. If that’s the case, given the tide, it will take a while for a body to be delivered up.”
Another beep summoned him. A busy man indeed.
I sighed and made my decision. “Inspector Harris, do you have any objection if I come to see you in person?”
“Och, no. Not at all. You’re in the business as it were, and obviously you know your mother better than we do. You might be able to shed some light on where she’s got to.”
“How do I get there?”
“The fastest way is to fly into Stornoway. Unfortunately, there isna a flight now until tomorrow. But one comes over at four o’clock. They’re running planes on Sunday these days, God forbid. Do you want the telephone number for the airport?”
“That’s okay. I can look it up. You’ve got a call waiting.”
“I’m afraid we can’t bear the cost of your flight, Miss Morris. It will have to be on your shilling, or should I say, your loonie?” The man was positively morphing into a comedian by the minute. “I can arrange to have somebody pick you up at the airport.”
“Thanks.”
After he hung up I phoned the airport and booked on the only flight that left for the island, four-ten the next afternoon.
I picked up my briefcase and headed out of the door. I refused to totally waste the afternoon, and I wanted to hear what defined some of my colleagues. And hey, I had a good excuse not to have done the exercise myself.