FORTY-FOUR

Howlett peered at Harry and Barry in turn, studying the bafflement and disbelief that must have been written on their faces. 'You sure you don't remember this?' he asked. 'There was quite a bit of media interest at the time.'

'I was out of the country,' said Harry.

'And I guess the Racing Post didn't send a correspondent,' said Chipchase. 'Assume we know zilcho, Marky.'

'OK. Right. Well, there were holes in the skulls of these skeletons. Like they'd been shot. I mean, like murdered, y'know? They were dated to… forty or fifty years ago. The last of the island's population left closer to a hundred years ago. So, the police had a double murder on their hands. Nothing to do with Karen, really, except… she was the one who actually found the bodies… and got her face on the telly … and… always hankered for an explanation.'

'Did she get one?' Harry asked.

'Not exactly. The police identified the bodies eventually. They belonged to a crofter and his son from Vatersay — the nearest inhabited island — who'd gone missing on a boat trip. Everyone thought they'd drowned, but… it seems they hadn't. Several crofters from Vatersay and its larger neighbour, Barra, grazed sheep on Haskurlay at the time, apparently, so—'

'What time was that?'

'Oh, didn't I say? The spring of 1955.'

"Fifty-five?'

'Yeah.'

Chipchase's gaze met Harry's. 'Busy around then north of the border, wasn't it?'

'There can't be any connection with Operation Clean Sheet, Barry. We were on the opposite coast, for God's sake.'

'I know. But there is a connection. I feel it in my bones. So do you.'

'What's Operation Clean Sheet?' asked Howlett.

'We'll tell you later,' Chipchase replied. 'Meanwhile, spell Haskurlay for us.'

'Spell it?'

'Just humour a dyslexic old man, son. How do you spell Haskurlay?'

'H-A-S-K-U-R-L-A-Y.'

'H-A-S-K-U-R-L-A-Y,' Chipchase repeated after him. 'I make that nine letters. Harry?'

'It can't be.'

'It bloody can.'

'But—'

'What are you two going on about?' asked Howlett, sounding increasingly exasperated.

'Finish your story first, Marky,' Chipchase replied. 'Then we'll tell you ours.'

'What were the crofter and his son called?' Harry prompted.

'Munro. Hamish and Andrew Munro. There were surviving relatives, so the police were able to use DNA tests to identify them. As to who shot them… they hadn't a clue. There were rumours, but…'

'What sort of rumours?'

'Oh, that there was some kind of… military presence on Haskurlay. Secret stuff… that the Munros blundered into. The MoD said no way, absolutely not. And the police went along with that. I guess they had no choice. There's actually no sign anything even vaguely military took place there, according to Karen. So, it's a… total mystery.'

'Where does Ailsa Redpath come into it?'

'Hamish Munro was her father. Andrew was her older brother.'

'Bloody hell,' said Chipchase. He looked round at Harry. 'That has to be the reason Maynard left her his house.'

'Yes,' said Harry. 'It does. But… I still don't get it.'

'Karen's never given up trying to figure it all out,' said Howlett. 'She went up to Stornoway last autumn to address a conference on Pictish culture. Well, that was her excuse. But I know for a fact she stopped off in Barra. There's a causeway linking Barra to Vatersay now. They're basically one island. So, I reckon she asked around about the murders while she was there. Maybe she visited Haskurlay again. Maybe she spoke to Ailsa's younger brother, Murdo. He still lives on Vatersay. Maybe, one way or another, she did enough… to attract the attention of your friend Askew.'

'Maybe. Though the truth is, Mark, we have no idea why Peter Askew should have contacted her — or what he might have told her.'

'It has to have been something to do with the murders. She said so.'

'Really?'

'See for yourself.' Howlett pulled a piece of paper from his wallet, unfolded it and held it out in front of them. It was a sheet from Karen Snow's phoneside jotter. Askew 7.30 Lamb was not the only thing she had written on it. HASKURLAY was written at the top in deeply scored capitals and, beneath that, Check with Ailsa.

'It was all to do with the murders,' said Howlett. 'Askew had the answer she was looking for.'

'We can't be sure of that.'

'I'm sure.'

'So what are you doing about it?' put in Chipchase.

'I've told the police, but they don't want to know. They reckon Karen's taken off somewhere without telling me, so it's none of their business. I've asked around. All her friends. Colleagues at work. They're baffled, but they don't know what to do. I've stuck the poster up in as many shops, bars, clubs and pubs near her flat as'll let me. No response. No news at all, good or bad.'

'Have you contacted her family?' Harry asked.

'She's an only child. Parents separated. Mother's seriously loopy. Suggested Karen had gone to ground to get away from me. Fucking bitch. No idea where her father is. So, the family's a write-off.'

'Which leaves you with Ailsa.'

'Yeah. I found her listed in Karen's address book. That and the wording of the note — Check with Ailsa — made me think they'd been in touch more often than Karen had ever let on. So, I went round there. Got the brush-off from her husband. He said Ailsa was away. Wouldn't say where. Offered to let her know I'd called. But you could tell he didn't mean it.'

'We got the same spiel.'

'The way I see it, she's gone into hiding. I thought it was just Karen's disappearance that had spooked her. But if we add Askew's death to the mix…'

'Where do you think she's gone?'

'I wondered if she was just lying low at the house. But I've kept watch there for hours every day. No sign. No trace. I reckon she must have gone away. Somewhere she feels safe.'

'Any idea where?'

'Vatersay. The family croft. I phoned the brother, y'see. Spoke to his wife. Well, she said she was his wife. And she was adamant Ailsa wasn't there. But he might not have a wife. That could have been Ailsa I spoke to, covering her own tracks. See what I mean?'

'Thought of going there to find out?'

"Course I have. But it's a long way to go if it's actually a wild-goose chase. I might miss her here in London while I was away. Or I might miss a lead on Karen's whereabouts. It's too long a shot.' Howlett's shoulders slumped. 'On the other hand…'

'You're running out of alternatives.'

'I think I have run out.'

'Look, Mark, we know of nothing linking Peter Askew to the Outer Hebrides fifty years ago. He was in Aberdeenshire, with us. But so were Lester Maynard and another bloke we all served with, Leroy Nixon. Yet Maynard left his house in Henley to Ailsa when he died — a woman he had no known connection with. And Nixon, like Maynard, took numerous trips to Scotland over the years. On one of them, Nixon drowned. Lost overboard from a ferry. We don't know what route the ferry was on, but my guess is that if we checked… we'd find it was going to or from Vatersay. And Askew? Maynard entrusted him with a secret before he died, encrypted on a computer disk under a nine-letter code. The disk's lost, but I think we just cracked the code, don't you? Haskurlay.'

'You've come over to my side on that, have you, Harry?' put in Chipchase.

Harry pointed to Karen's note, still clutched in Howlett's hand. 'Askew, Ailsa and Haskurlay. All on the same piece of paper. I think that clinches it. I haven't a clue what it means. But it means something.'

'Our necks, quite bloody likely. If I catch your drift correctly.'

'What…' Howlett gaped at each of them in turn. 'What drift?'

'Harry's planning a little Hebridean jaunt for us, Marky.' Chipchase smiled grimly. 'Aren't you, Harry?'

Harry shrugged and smiled back at Chipchase. 'I might be.'