Page 12 of Death at a Scottish Halloween

I didn’t like people being in the autopsy suite. Well, other than Abigail and myself, and sometimes Ewan. Too many chances for cross contamination.

“Exam Four.”

“Thanks.”

I clicked the lock on the door, and it opened. Isobel had been crying. Her eyes were red, and she held a tissue in her hand.

“Come in,” I said softly.

“We, uh, brought the clothing,” Baird said as he handed me two shopping bags. “Including the wigs.”

Isobel sniffed.

“I can do this on my own,” he said to her. “There’s no reason to put yourself through this.”

She shook her head. “It isn’t real until I see him.”

I understood what she meant. It was one thing for someone to tell you something, quite another to see it for yourself.

I handed the bags to Abigail for testing.

“I’ll take you through,” I said.

I stood at the door, while they flanked each side.

“He looks like he’s asleep,” she whispered. Tears streamed down her cheeks.

I didn’t know any of them well, but my heart hurt. Loss like this, especially when it was so sudden, was difficult for most of us.

“Can you tell us how it happened?” Baird asked.

I’d had a text from Ewan explaining that they’d been asking the sister and friend more questions and to tell them the bare minimum.

“He was murdered,” I said. “Ewan has asked that we keep the facts quiet while he’s investigating.”

She sobbed and Baird went around the table and put his arm on her shoulders. “Come on, love. Let’s sit down.” He guided her out of the room to the lobby.

I sat across from them.

“I don’t understand,” Isobel said. “Who would do something like this? And how? I mean, it was maybe forty minutes from the time we left him, and then you showed up at the pub. He was fine. We could barely breathe we’d been laughing so hard all night.”

“We were the same way,” I said. “And he didn’t seem upset about anything before last night?”

“No,” Baird said. “As I said, things can get tense on the rig, but once you’re home, all that doesn’t matter. Most of the guys don’t even live around here. They are from Edinburgh or Glasgow. A few of them are Brits. That said, none of them would do something like this.”

“Do you think, because of the makeup, they thought he was someone else?” Isobel’s voice was barely a whisper.

I shrugged. “It’s possible, but an attack like this … it’s hard to say. That’s why there’s an investigation. Hopefully, we’ll have answers soon. I do have some questions for you, if you don’t mind.”

“Anything,” she said. “We want to help.”

“Was he a big drinker?”

Her eyes went wide. “No. Not usually.”

I looked to Baird, as the victim’s friend he might know better. “She’s right. He had the occasional pint, but he was far from a drinker.”

‘Were you drinking last night?”