Crash Land Page 9

‘Why would she kill him? She could have had him for all I cared.’

  ‘Maybe they had an argument after you left. Maybe he got violent. You said he was a bully, did he ever hit you?’

  Maddie laughed. ‘You want to see the bruises, would you believe me then?’

  ‘Did you go to the police about it?’

  Maddie shook her head.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘That stuff is between husband and wife, behind closed doors, they’re not interested.’

  ‘So maybe that’s what happened, maybe Claire was defending herself.’

  Maddie thought for a moment. ‘I don’t believe she killed Kev.’

  ‘Well, if you didn’t and she didn’t, who did?’

  ‘Kev was into a lot of bad stuff. As well as the salvage scam and the deliveries, he was into some bullshit with the Sanderson brothers. God knows what else. I didn’t want to know the details.’

  Even Finn had heard of the Sanderson brothers, Kirkwall thugs bringing in coke and heroin from Russia, according to pub rumour.

  Finn glanced at the bag on the floor. ‘Maybe losing a hundred grand didn’t do him any favours.’

  Maddie stared at the bag.

  ‘Just a thought,’ Finn said.

  Maddie shook her head. ‘No, the money was his, he didn’t owe anyone.’

  ‘You sure?’

  She looked down at the floor. ‘No.’

  Finn pushed his chair back and stood up, hands on the edge of the table. ‘You have to take all this to the police.’

  ‘They’ll just say I killed him, they won’t care about anything else. They’ve got his body, me on the run, the wronged wife, the bag of money. It stinks.’

  ‘It does.’

  Maddie tilted her head and reached out but Finn was too far away. ‘You believe me, right?’

  ‘Would you believe me, if the situation was reversed?’

  ‘I like to think I would.’

  ‘I don’t even know you, Maddie.’

  ‘You know me as well as anyone. I felt it yesterday at the airport, I know you did too. You get me, we’re the same.’

  ‘We’re not the same.’

  ‘We were both leaving, escaping.’

  ‘I wasn’t escaping, I was going home.’

  ‘To your girlfriend?’

  ‘Leave Amy out of this.’

  ‘Is that why you were chatting me up the whole time?’

  ‘My relationship with her is nothing to do with this.’

  ‘I know you want to fuck me.’

  Finn laughed. ‘Are you offering me sex to keep me on your side?’

  ‘I’m not offering anything. And you’re already on my side.’

  Finn gave her a look and walked to the door. He glanced across the hall at the Neolithic exhibitions, the skulls and skeletons. He wondered if things were as complicated back in their day, if this kind of chaos came into their lives. He imagined being a corpse pegged out on the cliff, waiting for eagles and buzzards, seagulls and crows to come peck out his eyes, tear at his flesh, until he was nothing but a pile of windswept bones.

  He turned back to Maddie. She was standing close enough that he could smell her, perfume and sweat, a vague stink from the cowshed, stress oozing from her pores. Behind her, the cup of tea she’d begun to make sat stewing.

  ‘If you won’t go to the police, I’ll speak to them,’ he said. ‘I’ll tell them to talk to Claire.’

  Maddie had her hands on her hips. ‘They’ll know the information came from me, that we’ve been in contact since the crash. Then you’ll be in trouble.’

  ‘I can’t get in any more trouble than I already am.’

  ‘Think about it,’ Maddie said. ‘They presume we were both responsible for the plane. If they find out we’ve been together since then, why couldn’t we have been together before yesterday as well?’

  ‘But we weren’t.’

  ‘They don’t know that. If they think we’re working together, maybe we were both involved in Kev’s death.’

  ‘That’s ridiculous, I’ve never met him, I don’t even know where you live.’

  ‘Do you think they care?’ Maddie took a step closer. ‘They’ve got a dead body and two people they already blame for the crash. It’s not a big step to pin his death on us.’

  ‘This is fucked up.’

  Finn felt the doorframe against his back as Maddie stepped closer.

  She spoke in a hushed voice. ‘You’ve helped me so much. You’ve already saved me once. I needed you this morning and you came through. We have a connection, I know you feel it.’

  She touched the button of his shirt. Finn looked at the hand, imagined it gripping a knife. The smell of her was in his nose now, musty and feral.

  ‘Go and see Claire,’ she said. ‘Find out what happened. If we’re going to sort this out we have to do it together.’

  He thought she was going to kiss him again. He wanted her to, wanted much more than that. But she didn’t lean in, she just stood looking at him with big eyes, her mouth straight, her hand on his chest feeling his heart under his shirt.

  19

  Finn edged the car along the winding lane of John Street. Stromness was just a handful of steep lanes straggling between Ferry Road and Back Road up the hill. To his left were the tiny vennels sloping down to the water, the tenement houses end-on to the sea, each with its own ancient jetty going back to fishing times. These days the town was mostly a ferry port, the huge MV Hamnavoe sitting in dock now, Finn catching glimpses of its monstrous white bulk down the alleyways as he drove.

  The roads were built long before cars and there was no room for traffic to go both ways, no pavement either. But the system worked, mainly because no one ever came here. The shops were an odd mix of ancient brown places, unchanged in fifty years, and shinier blue and white properties turned into art galleries, workshops and cafes by recent incomers. Ageing hippies came here to find quiet and be inspired by the sea, making things out of flotsam and driftwood, painting unrealistically tranquil seascapes. Finn passed the Pier Arts Centre, closed for renovation. Seemed like the whole island shut down in winter. Sleet spattered the windscreen, the wipers smearing the slush into the corners as he crawled along.

  In the window of a bric-a-brac shop he saw a police poster for Project Kraken, with a cartoon of a blue merman-beast on it. ‘Protecting the waters of the Highlands and Islands,’ it read. ‘If you suspect it, report it,’ then a number to call. Finn wondered if anyone ever phoned. That wasn’t the way things were done around here. This far away from the centres of power, in this remote landscape, people had spent thousands of years doing things their own way, doing what they must to survive the harshness of the conditions. If someone was smuggling in bricks of dope or bags of pills, there were hundreds of miles of empty coastline to do it in, and who could blame them? If folk were out at night stripping the sunken fleet of copper and steel, taking valuables that might make a bit of money on the black market, fair play. If people were out poaching, as long as nobody got hurt, where was the harm? The idea of authority felt so remote here. The idea that you’d do something because people in Edinburgh or London told you to was ludicrous.

  The winding road went over a mound and Finn saw the vast snowy humps of Hoy and Graemsay up ahead behind the fishing cottages. The sky was ominous, snow clouds tumbling over each other, the world darkening.

  He reached his turn-off and smiled at the name of the street, Hellihole Road. One letter away from the worst address in the world. He indicated and turned. The street was like any other, short houses crouched against wind and rain, rough grey cladding and small windows, every feature designed to keep the outside from getting in, to achieve some semblance of warmth in the brutal northern winters.

  He pulled over at number twelve and switched the engine off. He didn’t have a plan. He’d chewed it over for the hour it took to get here. Stromness was almost as far away as you could get from Isbister in South Ronaldsay without heading to the outer isles. But he hadn�
�t settled on an angle, hadn’t decided how to play it. Maybe he should just go to the police, hand over responsibility. What Maddie said was true, he might be implicated, but so what? He felt screwed either way, so maybe just let the cards fall as they would.

  A gust of wind rocked the car and Finn closed his eyes. He remembered sitting in the cabin, buffeted by turbulence, his hands tied together in his lap. He heard the screams of panic as the plane flipped and plummeted, nosedived to earth, then split. Saw the propeller crushing that old couple in their seats. Felt Maddie’s kiss on his lips as she left him in the wreckage.

  He got out of the car, again being careful with the door in the wind, and walked to the house. He rang the bell and waited. Spits of sleet were swept into his eyes by the wind and he wiped them away.

  The door opened on the chain and a face peered out.

  ‘Claire?’

  ‘Who are you?’

  ‘My name’s Finn Sullivan, I need to speak to you.’

  ‘It’s not a good time,’ she said, closing the door.

  Finn put his foot in the gap between door and frame. ‘I really need to talk to you.’

  ‘Get your foot out of my door.’

  ‘It’s important.’

  ‘It’s really not a good time.’ Claire kicked at his foot but she only had socks on.

  ‘It’s about Kevin Pierce.’

  She stared at him. She was pretty in an obvious way, big lips in a natural pout, blue eyes. She was shorter than Maddie by a couple of inches, petite, packed into tight leggings and a running top. She was younger than Maddie too, closer to Finn’s age, and she had on too much make-up, her eyebrows over-sculpted and fake-looking. What had Kevin seen in her that he hadn’t got from his wife?

  ‘I don’t have anything to say about Kev,’ Claire said. ‘Now go away or I’ll call the police.’

  ‘I was thinking of calling them myself,’ Finn said. ‘They might be interested in what I know.’

  ‘Piss off.’ Claire looked beyond Finn down the street.

  ‘I’ve been speaking to Maddie,’ Finn said.

  She narrowed her eyes. ‘Who the hell are you?’

  ‘Can I come in?’

  She looked at him for a long time then shook her head.

  ‘We talk here. If you move your foot I’ll open the door properly. But we do it here, not inside.’

  Finn moved his foot and she took the chain off the door.

  ‘You’ve got one minute.’

  Finn tried to see down the hall, if anyone else was about, but it was too gloomy inside. ‘Like I said, I’ve been speaking to Maddie.’

  ‘How? She’s been missing since the crash, it’s all over the news.’

  Finn nodded. ‘We met on the plane. We’ve kept in touch.’

  ‘She’s OK? The police said she might be dead.’

  ‘She’s fine.’

  ‘Good,’ Claire said. It seemed sincere.

  ‘Maddie told me what you and Kevin were up to.’

  ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

  ‘Yes you do, she caught the two of you together.’

  Claire shook her head. ‘That’s bullshit.’

  Finn watched her, looking for signs. ‘Kevin’s dead.’

  She looked surprised, but then that’s what she would do if she was covering something.

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ She looked along the street again, fingers tapping on the doorframe.

  Finn nodded. ‘The police told me. He was stabbed to death at home.’

  ‘You’re joking.’

  Finn couldn’t read her. Was she playing him? ‘I’m deadly serious.’

  ‘Jesus,’ Claire said. ‘Did Maddie do it?’

  Finn angled his head. ‘Why do you say that?’

  Claire looked at him as if he was stupid. ‘They’re married, that’s why. And she’s missing after leaving on a plane. That’s a bit suspicious.’

  ‘She says you might’ve had something to do with it.’

  Claire laughed but it sounded forced. ‘Fuck off.’ She began to close the door. ‘This conversation is over.’

  Finn’s arm went out to stop the door.

  ‘Get to fuck,’ Claire said.

  ‘Maddie said you were sleeping with Kev. She found you together. When she left for the airport, the two of you were still there, in her bed.’

  ‘She’s lost the plot. Maddie’s always been a bit unhinged. Now she’s just making all this shit up. To be honest the quicker she gets found the better. You should tell the police where she is and be shot of her.’

  She was right, this was none of his business, not really. And yet.

  ‘She doesn’t seem unhinged to me,’ Finn said.

  ‘Do you mean before or after you were in a plane crash with her?’

  The sleet was falling heavier now, Finn getting damp patches on his shoulders. ‘Can we please go inside? I’m sure we can sort this out.’

  ‘Are you kidding? You come here and accuse me of having an affair and killing someone?’

  ‘I’m not accusing you of anything.’

  ‘It sounds like you are.’

  ‘I just need to know what happened.’

  ‘It’s pretty obvious what happened. Maddie lost the plot, killed Kev and ran away. She didn’t manage to escape and now she’s playing you, shifting the blame to me. It’s bullshit.’

  Finn stared at her. Claire avoided eye contact.

  ‘What happened between you and Maddie?’ he said.

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘She said you used to be best friends.’

  A look flickered across her face, maybe a hint of regret, maybe anger.

  ‘Things change.’

  ‘Over a guy?’

  Claire snorted. ‘Ask Maddie since you’re best mates all of a sudden.’

  Something caught her eye down the street and she shrank into the house.

  Finn took his hand away from the door and turned. Walking towards them was a tall man with a gelled parting, hair buzzed to the skin at the sides, stubble and narrow eyes. He was in an FCUK T-shirt and jeans, body tight underneath, army tattoos up his forearms and biceps.

  ‘Hey babe,’ he said to Claire. ‘Who’s this clown?’

  Claire’s body tensed. ‘He’s collecting for charity.’

  The guy looked Finn up and down. ‘Where’s your clipboard?’

  Finn looked at Claire, then nodded past the guy. ‘Left it in the car.’

  ‘What charity?’

  ‘Macmillan Cancer Care.’

  The guy looked at Claire, as if trying to puzzle something out. He turned back to Finn. ‘We’re not interested, so be a good boy and piss off.’

  Finn looked back at Claire as he spoke. ‘Sorry to have bothered you.’

  ‘No worries,’ Claire said.

  ‘And don’t come back when I’m not here,’ the guy said. ‘My wife’s a soft touch. If I find out she’s given you anything, you’ll be in trouble.’

  ‘No problem,’ Finn said, and walked to the car.

  The guy took hold of Claire’s arm and guided her further into the house. He stood on the step and watched as Finn got in the car and started the engine. He was still there when Finn looked in the rear-view mirror and turned on to Back Road, heading home.

  20

  Finn flicked the indicator and turned off the main road at Stenness. He drove past the first spread of standing stones and kept on the lane across the tiny isthmus of land between the lochs of Stenness and Harray. He got to the Ring of Brodgar and pulled into the car park opposite. His was the only car there. Brodgar was one of Orkney’s biggest tourist attractions in the summer, colossal standing stones arranged in a circle amongst heather and bracken. It was so well preserved it looked like something from a fantasy movie set, and Finn imagined a pagan sacrifice, cloaked disciples bowing down to the first rays of sun filtering through the ring.

  With the weather closing in and the exposed moorland flanked by brackish water on both sides, Brodgar had a forb
idding air about it, something menacing in the gloom. A flock of oystercatchers lifted out of the heather as he trudged towards the stones, their orange beaks daggers of colour in the grey sky. More sleet was coming in from the west, the sky dappled over there. It would be here in a few minutes.

  He stopped at the first stone and put his hand against it, felt its rough bulk. It was fifteen feet high, the width of a man, God knows how many tons. Finn wondered about the people who brought it here, the effort involved. The logistics of digging deep holes, cutting the stones, transporting them. He vaguely remembered that they used logs to roll them from wherever they came from, but there were no trees on Orkney any more. All that hard graft. Was it for the gods? Sunrises and sunsets, all the solstice stuff, why did they think it was so important? Maybe they sought protection from the vagaries of existence, a guarantee of a good harvest, healthy children, long life. Good luck with that, Finn thought. The truth was that the mightiest sun god in the world wasn’t going to save them, they were on their own. And looking for answers in the sky was pointless, worse than pointless because it gave you false hope, made you believe everything would be OK. The reality was that bad things just happen, and you can do nothing about it.

  Claire had been hiding something, Finn was sure. Did she already know that Kevin was dead? Everyone likes to think they can read people, but it’s crap. Going with your gut is wrong just as often as it’s right. What was his instinct now? He didn’t even know. The oystercatchers circling the loch knew about instinct, they acted on it without thinking. He was cursed with free will, the ability to think.

  He felt a spatter of sleet as clouds swept overhead. He got on his knees in the wet gorse, his hand still touching the ancient stone. He put his other hand on it, tried to feel its rhythm, its connection to the earth, the universe, the people who had put it there all those years ago. Dampness soaked into his jeans as he closed his eyes. He wondered what it looked like to anyone driving past, a deluded hippy kid praying to old gods amongst a bunch of rocks in the middle of nowhere. Give me an answer, he said to himself, aware of how stupid it was but not even caring. Tell me what to do, oh great ones.

  His phone rang.

  He pushed himself up, rubbed his hands together then pulled out his phone.