burgundy mini and behind it a marked white-and-blue police car.
“We might as well park here and walk down,” said Gillies. “The ambulance hasn’t arrived yet.”
The house was typical of what I’d seen so far of island houses: small and compact, with sand-coloured stucco walls and a grey slate roof. The trim on two second-floor windows was painted a dull brown. As we approached, a uniformed officer stepped out of the side porch.
“Hello, Fraser,” said Gillies.
“Afternoon, sir,” said the constable, a young, thin-faced fellow — new to the force, I thought, from his “I’ve-seen-something-nasty” expression. He hardly glanced at me, but pointed to the inside of the house.
“I sent for Dr. MacBeth. He’s upstairs. Mr. MacAulay’s grandson and his fiancée are out in the rear garden. So is Lisa MacKenzie. She found the body about an hour ago. She worked for Mr. MacAulay.”
“How is she doing?”
“She’s bearing up considering, but young Andy is what I’d call very distressed.”
The constable was another tongue chewer, and I could hardly understand him.
Gillies ushered me in ahead of him with a gallantry that was obviously second nature, but in this case I could have done withoutit. The stench from the decaying corpse was powerful. The windows were wide open, but the fresh air didn’t stand a chance against the stink of a dead body.
CHAPTER NINE
The living room was drab, with too much dark wood trim and muted colour. A couch and matching armchair, upholstered in tartan, were grouped in front of the fireplace. The first impression was that the style hadn’t changed since the early 1950s, although French doors had been created at the far end of the room and I could see through to a walled-in patio area. To my surprise, sitting there on an iron bench were the same couple we had recently encountered at the protest at the airport. Her candy-cane appearance was unmistakable. The man had his back to me. He was bent over, holding his head in his hands, and she was in close, her arm around his shoulders. Even from where I was, the sound of his noisy sobs was audible. They were protected by a striped awning, but a second woman, dressed in a yellow raincoat, was standing a few feet away at the stone wall of the patio. She was unmoving, seemingly oblivious to the drizzle, staring out towards the inlet. Her spiky brown hair was dyed a brilliant burgundy at the tips, and I guessed she’d have numerous piercings.
Constable Fraser had followed us over the threshold.
“You said Lisa MacKenzie was the one who found the body?” Gillies asked.
“Aye, sir. She has a key, and when she let herself in this morning, she discovered Mr. MacAulay in the upstairs bedroom. She telephoned Dr. MacBeth and he told her to call us, which she did.”
“She didn’t call the police first?” I added my two cents’ worth. “I’d think that would be the first reaction for anybody finding a dead body.”
Fraser was surprised. “Perhaps in America it is, but here most people know each other and what’s going on. She knew Mr. MacAulay was Dr. MacBeth’s patient.”
This wasn’t the time to explain that, even though we share the same northern part of the continent and, to the Scottish ear, sound completely alike, Canada and the United States are two distinct countries.
“When did the other two get here?” asked Gillies. “They were doing a protest at the airport not too long ago.”
“They’ve been here about half an hour.” The young constable swallowed hard. “I had to tell Andy his grandfather was dead. He’s been crying ever since.” He glanced at me. “His fiancée is from America.”
“Does he live here?” I asked. “In the house, I mean.”
“No, Ma’am. But he visits his granddad on a regular basis.”
“We’ll talk to them later. Don’t let them leave just yet.” Gillies looked at me. “Let’s go and hear what the doctor has to say, shall we?”
He led the way up the stairs.
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“We might as well park here and walk down,” said Gillies. “The ambulance hasn’t arrived yet.”
The house was typical of what I’d seen so far of island houses: small and compact, with sand-coloured stucco walls and a grey slate roof. The trim on two second-floor windows was painted a dull brown. As we approached, a uniformed officer stepped out of the side porch.
“Hello, Fraser,” said Gillies.
“Afternoon, sir,” said the constable, a young, thin-faced fellow — new to the force, I thought, from his “I’ve-seen-something-nasty” expression. He hardly glanced at me, but pointed to the inside of the house.
“I sent for Dr. MacBeth. He’s upstairs. Mr. MacAulay’s grandson and his fiancée are out in the rear garden. So is Lisa MacKenzie. She found the body about an hour ago. She worked for Mr. MacAulay.”
“How is she doing?”
“She’s bearing up considering, but young Andy is what I’d call very distressed.”
The constable was another tongue chewer, and I could hardly understand him.
Gillies ushered me in ahead of him with a gallantry that was obviously second nature, but in this case I could have done withoutit. The stench from the decaying corpse was powerful. The windows were wide open, but the fresh air didn’t stand a chance against the stink of a dead body.
CHAPTER NINE
The living room was drab, with too much dark wood trim and muted colour. A couch and matching armchair, upholstered in tartan, were grouped in front of the fireplace. The first impression was that the style hadn’t changed since the early 1950s, although French doors had been created at the far end of the room and I could see through to a walled-in patio area. To my surprise, sitting there on an iron bench were the same couple we had recently encountered at the protest at the airport. Her candy-cane appearance was unmistakable. The man had his back to me. He was bent over, holding his head in his hands, and she was in close, her arm around his shoulders. Even from where I was, the sound of his noisy sobs was audible. They were protected by a striped awning, but a second woman, dressed in a yellow raincoat, was standing a few feet away at the stone wall of the patio. She was unmoving, seemingly oblivious to the drizzle, staring out towards the inlet. Her spiky brown hair was dyed a brilliant burgundy at the tips, and I guessed she’d have numerous piercings.
Constable Fraser had followed us over the threshold.
“You said Lisa MacKenzie was the one who found the body?” Gillies asked.
“Aye, sir. She has a key, and when she let herself in this morning, she discovered Mr. MacAulay in the upstairs bedroom. She telephoned Dr. MacBeth and he told her to call us, which she did.”
“She didn’t call the police first?” I added my two cents’ worth. “I’d think that would be the first reaction for anybody finding a dead body.”
Fraser was surprised. “Perhaps in America it is, but here most people know each other and what’s going on. She knew Mr. MacAulay was Dr. MacBeth’s patient.”
This wasn’t the time to explain that, even though we share the same northern part of the continent and, to the Scottish ear, sound completely alike, Canada and the United States are two distinct countries.
“When did the other two get here?” asked Gillies. “They were doing a protest at the airport not too long ago.”
“They’ve been here about half an hour.” The young constable swallowed hard. “I had to tell Andy his grandfather was dead. He’s been crying ever since.” He glanced at me. “His fiancée is from America.”
“Does he live here?” I asked. “In the house, I mean.”
“No, Ma’am. But he visits his granddad on a regular basis.”
“We’ll talk to them later. Don’t let them leave just yet.” Gillies looked at me. “Let’s go and hear what the doctor has to say, shall we?”
He led the way up the stairs.
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