A Breath on Dying Embers Page 6

  ‘Fair enough, Sergeant Scott. I’ll do that now.’

  ‘Good man. I’ll dae what I can. If this bugger’s in Kinloch, I’ll find oot aboot it, nothing surer, trust me.’

  ‘I’m pleased to hear it. Why don’t we get back in touch in the morning?’

  ‘Aye – no’ too early, mind. I’ve a lot on my plate.’

  ‘Maybe I can have a word with DCI Daley tomorrow? I met him earlier at the reception. Seemed like a sound chap.’

  ‘That’ll no’ be possible, Captain.’

  ‘Oh? Why not?’

  ‘I’m afraid DCI Daley took unwell no’ long after he came off your boat.’

  ‘Ship.’

  ‘Aye, that’s what I said.’

  ‘No, it’s a ship, Sergeant – not a boat. Nothing serious, I hope?’

  ‘Tae be honest with you, I’m not sure. He just collapsed.’ Scott took the phone from his face and swallowed hard. ‘In any case, the show must go on. I’ll dae my best tae find this Ranjeet guy.’

  ‘Majid, Sergeant.’

  ‘Aye, that’s your man. Send me that photo as soon as you can, please.’

  Captain Banks replaced the phone then called his comms officer again to arrange for an image of Majid to be sent to Kinloch Police.

  As he made his way back to the reception – now even more rowdy, judging by the noise as he approached – Banks wondered what had happened to the big police officer.

  12

  Margaret Pearson tried her husband’s mobile phone yet again. He’d been due home over four hours ago, and now it was dark she was beginning to worry.

  She took the stairs to their bedroom. Counting his pills, she saw he’d taken the morning ones she’d set out for him. But his next dose was due, and the last thing she wanted was for her spouse of almost fifty years to have an asthma attack out on the hill.

  Fretting, she hurried back down the stairs and called his voicemail once more.

  The number you are calling is currently unavailable. Please try later.

  She’d already sent half a dozen texts, with no reply. She sat by the phone and bit her lip, trying desperately to remember where he’d said he was going that day. Machrie, she was sure. Then she remembered that another birder had told him that a rare gull had been spotted on Ben Saarnie.

  Her hand hovered above the receiver for a few moments. Sighing with worry, she lifted it, and dialled the number imprinted on her mind.

  The phone rang three times before it was answered.

  ‘Peter, is that you?’

  ‘Aye, Maggie. What can I do for you?’

  ‘It’s Cameron. He went out this morning looking for that bloody gull you told him about. It’s been dark a while now, and he’s still no’ back. It’s jeest no’ like him.’

  ‘Did you phone? He’s always footering aboot wae that phone when he’s wae me.’

  ‘What do you think? Aye, of course I’ve phoned – damn near a hunner times. I’ve left messages, tae – nothing, no’ a squeak. He’s due his pills and inhaler soon. I’m worried, Peter.’

  ‘He was looking for shots o’ that American gull I spotted up at Ben Saarnie. He’s got better equipment than me. Every chance he’d have got a great image.’

  ‘Never mind the bloody gull! What dae you think I should dae? Why are you so out o’ breath, by the way?’

  The line went silent for a while as Peter Scally considered the problem. ‘Och, I was upstairs in the bath when you called. I tell you what, Maggie. Me an’ young Kevin will take a wander up. He knows the hill as well as me, and we can take that SUV o’ his up tae the end o’ the track.’

  ‘I hope he’s okay – I mean, what do you think could have happened?’

  ‘Och, maybe jeest a wee fall.’

  ‘What?’ she squealed. ‘An’ if he’s had a fall, why no’ jeest phone?’

  ‘Any number o’ reasons, Maggie. The signal comes an’ goes up there – he might have run oot o’ battery.’

  ‘Aye, I suppose.’

  ‘Or when he fell, he might have broken the bloody thing.’

  ‘Will you shut up aboot him falling!’

  ‘You’re right worried, Maggie. I’m surprised – hurt, even.’

  Margaret Pearson whispered a reply. ‘Jeest you shut up. Phones is no’ safe. There could be anyone listening in at thon exchange. Mind Iza Donnelly – she knew aboot every phone call in the toon when she was the operator. She used tae sit in the Copper Kettle an’ hold court wae a’ the stories o’er a cup o’ tea and an iced bun. None o’ it at her expense, mark you.’

  ‘You’re livin’ in the past, woman. The exchange closed years ago. It’s all automatic noo.’ He thought for a moment. ‘Here, you don’t think Cameron’s got wind o’ – wind o’ us, eh?’ Suddenly Peter Scally’s voice was all concern.

  ‘Jeest haud your wheesht, man! Get off this phone an’ go and find him.’

  ‘Aye, right, Maggie. Calm doon. I’m no’ wantin’ you tae have a stroke.’

  ‘Find him, Peter – please!’

  Daley was sitting up in bed watching the small television on the wall of the side room they’d put him in at the Royal Alexandra Hospital in Paisley. He was still wired to various machines that bleeped, chimed and buzzed with alarming frequency, while his heart rate was displayed in neon blue on a screen at his side. Even he could see that his pulse was fast, and somewhat irregular.

  In truth, the programme he’d been staring at had washed over him completely, as he worried about what had happened to him back home in Kinloch.

  This could change everything. This could be the end.

  As he tried desperately to banish these thoughts, the door swung open and a young man in a shirt and tie with his sleeves rolled up and a file in his hand swept into the room.

  ‘Now, Mr Daley, I’m Guy Cummings, duty cardiologist.’ The man smiled at Daley, who was shocked by how young the doctor looked – no more than late twenties, he reckoned.

  ‘Please, call me Jim.’

  ‘Yes, of course. I answer to Guy – or virtually anything.’ He sat at the end of Daley’s bed. ‘You’ll no doubt be worried about what happened to you earlier, yes?’

  ‘Yes, of course. I’m terrified, to tell you the truth. What did happen to me?’

  ‘Well, I have both good and bad news, Jim.’

  ‘Good news, please,’ said Daley, desperate for some.

  ‘The good news is you haven’t had a heart attack –well, not as such.’

  ‘That’s the good news?’

  ‘Yes, pretty positive, I’d say.’

  ‘So what’s the bad news?’

  ‘You’ve had something – in that I mean something led to your collapse.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Well, we’ve X-rayed your chest, and run a few cardiographs, and everything looks reasonably normal.’

  ‘Reasonably?’

  ‘Well, you do have a slightly enlarged heart – we think.’

  ‘Surely it’s enlarged or it’s not?’

  ‘Not always as easy as that. Everything’s open to interpretation in my line of work.’

  ‘Mine, too.’

  ‘You’re a police officer, right?’

  ‘Yes, I am.’

  ‘Stressful, I imagine.’

  ‘It has its moments.’

  ‘It’s hard to tell from X-rays, so this is where we come to the bad news. We’ll have to keep you in overnight – run some tests. Echo cardiogram, kidney and liver tests. We have to get to the bottom of this.’

  ‘I can see my heart rate is fast, and a bit jumpy too.’

  ‘You’re tachy, yes –I mean your heart rate is quite quick, as you’ve observed. However, given your age – general fitness and so on – that’s not all that unusual.’

  ‘Well, that’s good, isn’t it?’

  ‘No, not really good, Jim. I’m guessing a lot of stressful work, bad diet and too much booze. Would that be close to the mark?’

  Daley shrugged. ‘What do want me to say?’
>
  ‘It’s important you tell me the truth, okay?’

  ‘Okay, then you’re right on all points.’

  ‘Thank you. It’s nothing to be ashamed of, Jim. We all have our stresses and strains – little guilty pleasures. But at your time of life those have to change.’

  ‘Any guesses?’

  ‘Don’t hold me to this, but I’d say you have an arrhythmia issue.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘An irregular heart beat. Again, as you’ve noticed yourself. In itself, it’s quite normal in some people . . .’

  ‘But?’

  ‘But, in some cases, it’s the manifestation of something else.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Well, I don’t want to speculate any further. We can have a word tomorrow after the other tests. I want you to try and get some rest, agreed?’

  ‘If you say so. Easier said than done, mind you.’

  ‘I understand. But don’t worry – you’re being monitored constantly. I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow.’ Cummings got up. ‘I better get on with my rounds, Jim.’

  ‘Sure. Thanks for coming in, Guy.’

  As the young clinician closed the door quietly behind him, Daley closed his eyes and sighed. One thing was certain. He’d get no sleep.

  He reached out to the cabinet by his bed, being careful not to dislodge the wires taped to his chest. Seconds later, he heard the familiar voice of Desk Sergeant Shaw in Kinloch Police Office over his mobile phone.

  Peter Scally and his grandson reached the end of the rough track that led up Ben Saarnie. Kevin pulled on the parking brake, and reached into the side pocket of the driver’s door. He removed a black case, which he opened to reveal what looked like a pair of binoculars.

  ‘You’ll no’ see bugger a’ wae them in this light, Kevin. I thought you’d know that, you being a gamekeeper an’ all.’

  ‘They’re night vision binoculars, Papa. Have a look.’ Kevin clicked a switch and handed them to his grandfather, who put them to his eyes.

  ‘Bugger me, these things is brilliant. Must cost a bob or two, eh?’

  ‘Aye, but the estate gives us them tae look for poachers an’ that.’ He turned in his seat and lifted a long leather case from the back seat.

  ‘Here, we’re going tae find Cameron, no’ shoot him, son.’

  ‘You never know, Papa. I don’t go up the hills at night without my rifle.’

  ‘Fuck me, it’s no’ Afghanistan, Kevin.’

  ‘Aye, even so. There’s teams o’ they bastards coming doon fae Glasgow, taking sheep an’ a’ sorts. Don’t worry, I’m fully licensed to carry it.’

  ‘Well, if you say so. Right, I telt Cameron that I’d seen the gull jeest up at the peak, thonder.’

  ‘Did you really see this gull?’

  ‘Aye, of course. Why do you say that?’

  ‘Thought you might jeest be wantin’ Cameron oot o’ the way, if you know whoot I mean?’ Kevin winked.

  ‘Eh?’

  ‘Come on, Papa. The whole toon knows you’re having it off wae his wife. Ew!’ he exclaimed, a look of disgust on his face as he shuddered.

  ‘Well, the whole toon’s wrong. I’ve been friends with Cameron Pearson since we was at school, so jeest keep your hand on yer ha’penny. See, the rumours in this toon.’ Peter Scally shook his head.

  ‘If you say so, Papa.’

  ‘Aye, I say so! Anyhow, it’s no’ three years since your granny passed away. What kind o’ man do you think I am?’

  Kevin stifled a laugh. ‘Dae I need tae answer that?’

  ‘Enough o’ this shite! Cameron’s up here somewhere wae nae pills. Forget gossiping like an auld fishwife and let’s find the poor bugger.’

  As he watched his grandson slide off the seat of the SUV, Peter Scally bit his lip. ‘See, this place,’ he muttered under his breath, shaking his head.

  13

  Scott had recalled four constables to duty, and with another pair already on shift he’d set them on the hunt for the missing Great Britain crew member, Majid.

  Their first ports of call would be Kinloch’s many licensed premises, armed with a photograph of the errant sailor. If that failed, he’d have to become more inventive. But he was confident that local vigilance would be sufficient unto the day. Not many strangers went unnoticed in Kinloch.

  He was sitting in Daley’s glass box, behind the desk, when the door swung open. He was absorbed in reading some background on Majid provided by Captain Banks, and without lifting his head he said, ‘What the fuck now? And don’t think you needn’t knock just because the gaffer’s no’ here.’

  ‘What on earth’s been going on, DS Scott? And why wasn’t I informed?’ Symington was framed in the doorway in a jogging suit and a pair of very white training shoes. ‘I had to learn that my sub-divisional commander had been rushed to hospital, presumed dead, from one particularly gloomy member of the public!’

  ‘Who telt you that?’ said Scott, blanching at the information.

  ‘The man running beside me on the treadmill at what passes for your gym down here. Now, I assume that had DCI Daley expired somebody would have been good enough to inform me. So, tell me what actually happened.’ Her tone was sharp and commanding.

  ‘Aye’ well, we was up at the hoose when Liz – Mrs Daley – and the wean arrived. They started arguing, so I took the wee fella intae the kitchen, gied him some biscuits an’ that . . .’

  ‘Spare me the preamble, DS Scott. What’s wrong with him?’

  ‘Right, aye. I was going to tell you, but the last I heard you was still on the boat, like. So I didn’t want to disturb you.’

  ‘I’ve been off the boat – like – for hours. I went back to my hotel to freshen up and have something to eat, then decided to go for a quick session at the gym – then this!’

  ‘Aye, well, it’s no’ all bad news, ma’am. Jimmy – DCI Daley – collapsed, and the docs here reckoned he was better off up the road in Glasgow. Just in case, you know. He phoned a while ago, but I was oot organising the boys to search for this missing crewmen fae the boat – ship, ma’am.’

  ‘Missing crewman? I have to say, DS Scott, we’re in a small town with half the government and some of the royal family, not to mention some of the richest people in the world, on board a cruise ship, when, my officer in command is taken ill and flown to hospital in Glasgow, a member of the crew of this boat goes missing, and you don’t see fit to inform me. I look like a fool, Brian!’

  Scott chewed the end of his pencil for a few moments, reminding himself of the many times at school he’d been asked awkward questions as to his behaviour, or occasionally his work – or more likely the absence of it. ‘Aye, I just assumed you was still afloat, so tae speak. Actually, he’s in Paisley, by the way.’

  ‘Glasgow, Paisley – what’s the odds?’

  ‘I wouldnae say that in Paisley, ma’am.’

  ‘Even if I had still been afloat you should have made sure that I was informed about the collapse of my DCI. How is he?’

  ‘They doctors are still running tests, ma’am. He telt Sergeant Shaw he was feeling fine an’ dandy. Och, likely just a wee turn. You know what men oor age are like – off wae the blue light flashing at the drop o’ a hat. Happened tae my faither. Mind you, he’d drunk ten pints o’ lager and a bottle o’ whisky . . .’

  ‘Get me the hospital, and tell them I want an urgent update. I’ll be in my office.’ She turned on her heel and slammed the door to Daley’s glass box, making the blinds rattle and attracting concerned looks from a pair of detectives in the CID suite.

  ‘Right, Potts,’ shouted Scott, poking his head through the door. ‘Get the RAH in Paisley – somebody senior, no’ just some nurse – and tell them tae contact her majesty pronto aboot DCI Daley’s condition.’

  ‘Yes, Sergeant. But first I think we’ve found our man Majid.’

  ‘Oh aye, I didnae think it would take long here. Where is the bastard?’

  ‘He’s been spotted entering a flat on
Long Road, Sergeant.’

  ‘Okay, gie me the details, an’ I’ll get doon there. Meanwhile, you do the necessary for the queen o’ Sheba doon the corridor.’

  Scott ducked back into Daley’s office, flung his jacket over his shoulders, and hurried out, DC Potts pressing the scribbled note of the Long Road address into his hand as he went.

  *

  Peter Scally and his grandson made their way slowly up the hill, torches pointing to the ground to make sure of their footing. The clouds had parted and it had turned back into a clear starlit night, but still, rabbit holes, boulders and lumps and bumps in the ground were unforgiving. Scally had seen too many twisted ankles and broken legs in his time as a poacher to ensure he kept himself safe while prowling the hills at night. Not that he was about to tell his gamekeeper grandson any of that.

  Without warning, an owl swooped low overhead hooting as it went, no doubt disturbed by the pair and their torches.

  ‘No’ long tae go now,’ he gasped. ‘That’s us nearly at the false peak.’

  Kevin smiled in the dark. ‘You’re fair knackered tonight, Papa. Been at the gym?’

  ‘Gym, my arse!’ Scally was about to say more, but his grandson held up his hand.

  ‘Hold on,’ he whispered.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Over there. I can hear an engine.’

  ‘How so? We came as far as we could on the track. How could anyone get a vehicle this far?’

  ‘There’s another track that comes off the west road – you must know it, Papa. It takes you further up the hill, but no’ as near tae where you telt me you saw this bird.’

  ‘Aye, right enough. It’s been a long time since I’ve been up it. Your memory gets fair buggered when you get tae my age. So who can it be?’

  ‘Pound tae a penny it’s poachers.’

  ‘Naw, no’ up here. What’s there tae poach?’

  ‘Some fine sheep up here on the pastures still tae be brought doon. Anyhow, what dae you know aboot poaching, eh?’

  ‘Och, jeest nothing at all. I’m a birder, and fine you know it. Jeest ignore it, Kevin. Cameron won’t be o’er there.’