Page 8 of The High Island

‘You can take the vehicle back to Kirkwall tonight,’ he told her.

‘Okay, I’ll drop you home first, though,’ Jo said.

‘No, drop me at the farm. Tommy’s expecting me and I think he’ll have things to say regarding what went down today on Hoy.’

‘Roger that,’ Jo said.

Exiting Houton, Jo took a left along the Orphir road. From the passenger seat, Erling could still make out the shadow of Hoy, like a brooding humpback whale on the far side of Scapa Flow.

When they reached the farm turning, he told her to let him off there and he would walk in. She did so without questioning why, and he thought again how lucky he’d been with his new second-in-command, who understood when to joke, when to question and when to remain silent.

Now, as he made his way on foot towards the distant lights of the farmhouse, the quiet twilight that enveloped him felt comfortingly familiar. As did the sky with its million and more stars. The kye hadrecently been released from their winter sojourn in the barn and he could make out their shadowy movements and lowing sounds as they grazed on new grass.

He contemplated how often as a teenager he’d done this same walk, hoping it would sober him up or blow away the scent of pot on his person.

He’d been a mess back then. Hiding from his own sexuality. Tormenting others who shared it. Magnus had always known and had encouraged him to accept himself as he was. But he couldn’t. Not until he left this place and went to university. That had changed everything. Yet he still couldn’t return. Hadn’t managed it until after he’d joined the force and his mother had died.

In his turbulent teenage years, Tommy wouldn’t wait up for him, but he’d always known that his father only went to sleep when he’d registered that his son was home safe.

I have no child of my own to worry about,nor ever will, he thought.Although I have everyone’s children here to worry about.

He found Tommy in the kitchen,TheOrcadiannewspaper spread out on the table in front of him, plus a glass of whisky nearby.

His father wasn’t much of a drinker, and since he hadn’t attended the wake, but gone to the interment instead, this was likely his first of the day.

Tommy looked up and, gesturing at the whisky bottle, asked if he’d like one.

‘I don’t have the car, so yes,’ Erling said, fetching a glass from the cupboard.

Pouring himself a measure, he apologized for keeping his father up.

‘I knew you’d be late back,’ Tommy said. ‘And I’m glad you still came.’

They sipped together in silence for a moment.

‘We managed to extract the coffin and contents and take them by police launch to Kirkwall,’ Erling confirmed. ‘ASOCOteam will work the site tomorrow.’

‘And Professor Nelson will tell you if you have a murder on your hands?’

‘That’s about it,’ Erling said.

‘And Mr Maitland?’

‘I spoke to him by phone. He wondered if it might have been a ruse to stop work on his house. Seems Ivor warned him the family might try to thwart his plans.’

A ghost of a smile passed Tommy’s lips. ‘He’s not wrong about the family,’ he said, before his expression changed. ‘But that was no prank Ian unearthed. We both know that.’ He looked straight at Erling. ‘How long have they been there, d’you think?’

Erling was about to give the stock forensic answer, but changed his mind.

‘I think within living memory,’ he offered. ‘Maybe Ivor’s?’ He met his father’s look. ‘Did Granddad ever say anything about what went on among the Mowats?’

‘Plenty, but I didn’t often listen.’ He offered another whisky and Erling found himself accepting. They hadn’t talked like this for a long time. Not since his mother, Ada, had died.

‘Granddad and Ivor were thick as thieves. I remember that,’ Erling said.

‘They were, despite Scapa Flow between them.’

‘Then if Ivor knew about the grave at the old house . . .’ he said.