‘How well did you know Ellen McIver?’ Anna asked her now.

  ‘Well enough to dislike her,’ Morag said. ‘I didn’t kill her though. I could never do a thing like that.’

  ‘She complained about a lock-in, I believe.’

  Morag sighed. ‘She did. But that was just her. We all had our turn.’

  ‘Do you think she poisoned your cat?’

  Morag watched her for a long time, perhaps reliving her emotion, perhaps wondering how much to let on.

  ‘I did at first,’ she finally whispered. ‘My Yorick. It was horrible. I knew he wasn’t right and he got worse during the day. Wouldn’t eat. His breathing wasn’t right, either. I took him to the vet’s in Tarbert. She’s a nice girl. Claire. Very kind. She saved him. Put him on a drip, kept him there a couple of nights. You know, people say “it’s only a cat”. Or they think that, even if they don’t say it. Anyway, Claire did some tests. A few days later, she came to see us, at home next door. She told us it seemed Yorick had ingested weedkiller – Glyco-something-or-other. I said, “What, you mean someone did it on purpose?” Claire said, “Not necessarily, but it’s a possibility.”’ Morag narrowed her eyes. ‘So I went knocking on doors. I asked everyone in the village if they’d been using this particular kind of weedkiller. No one admitted it. A couple of folk suggested it could be Ellen. There didn’t seem to be anyone else.’

  ‘Did you confront her about it?’

  They were interrupted by a small rap at the door. Jo went to answer it. It was Rosie with a tray and three steaming mugs on it.

  ‘Oh, lovely,’ Morag said when she laid the tray on the table. ‘Thank you, my love.’

  Rosie gave a shy smile and went on her way.

  ‘Now, where was I?’ Morag asked, frowning.

  ‘I asked if you confronted Ellen,’ Anna said.

  ‘I went to see her, yes,’ she said, her face very hard. ‘Of course, she denied it. Got quite cross. “The very idea,” she said to me. Then she got nasty. Said she’d report me if I accused her again. That she’d see me in court. I just walked away. I told myself it wasn’t her after all. It was the only way I could move on. Besides, Yorick was all right again. I’m sorry⁠—’

  But she managed to stem the rush of emotion.

  ‘She was a nasty woman,’ she went on when she’d regained control. ‘A nasty, spiteful, puritanical woman. You know, she actually used to go to strangers’ funerals. She’d go along, all in black, enjoying herself. She turned against everyone eventually, even people who were nice to her. She and Carol were friendly for a while, but then it was Carol’s turn. Ellen shouted at her in the street. I’ll let Carol tell you all about it. Look, I’m not saying Ellen deserved what happened,’ she added. ‘But she had it coming, in a way.’

  She sat up and said quietly, ‘I don’t know who killed her. It wasn’t me. Besides, I was in here all afternoon, wasn’t I? Didn’t leave.’ She gave Anna a knowing look. ‘I knew you’d be asking me about alibis. Well, I happen to have one.’

  ‘Between three and four?’ Anna asked.

  ‘I was in here. I served a couple of customers and then I checked the stock.’

  Anna recalled the sign on the shop door. ‘The shop closes at three-thirty, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, but like I say, I stayed to check the stock in the store room – it’s at the back of the tearoom through a door. Carol hadn’t finished doing it on Tuesday lunchtime. She’d offered to come back in at the weekend, but I thought I should just get it done.’

  ‘So no one saw you after three-thirty?’

  Morag shifted in her seat. ‘No, but… how would I know Ellen was even down at the beach then?’

  Anna shrugged. ‘Who came in between three and three-thirty?’

  ‘Olly Blake,’ she said. ‘Him and his two wee girls, for ice creams. Oh, and Harriet came in too. She gets her parcels delivered here – the delivery people change so often, and they can never find her house—’ She caught herself and looked immediately stricken.

  Anna glanced at Jo, who’d clearly clocked the import of what Morag had said.

  ‘Oh,’ Morag said. A hand went to her mouth. ‘Oh dear.’

  ‘What time was Harriet here?’ Anna asked.

  Morag shut her eyes.

  ‘Morag, please, it’s important.’

  She opened her eyes a little and peeked at Anna. ‘Just after three, I’d say.’

  ‘And how long was she here?’

  ‘A few minutes.’

  ‘Harriet claims she was at home the whole of yesterday afternoon,’ Anna said, ‘and that Leo was with her. Did she ask you to lie for her?’

  Morag said nothing for several seconds.

  ‘Harriet didn’t do this,’ she whispered at last, adding more firmly, ‘And neither did Leo!’ Her tongue came out to wet her lips. ‘So what if he can drive a tractor? So can lots of people round here. Goodness, I’m sure I could if push came to shove. Leo’s a good boy. Just a bit of a temper on him, that’s all.’

  ‘How do you know Leo can drive a tractor?’ Anna asked.

  Morag’s eyes turned briefly to saucers as she realised she’d just compounded her previous error.

  ‘Morag, we’re treating Ellen’s death as murder,’ Anna said. ‘You need to answer our questions.’

  ‘Oh.’ She looked shocked. Frightened too. ‘Oh, yes. Yes, of course.’ She took a few breaths then said quietly, ‘Leo took a part-time job at the Camerons’ place last summer, didn’t he? Only he crashed the tractor into Glen’s car – something like that – so Glen gave him the boot.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Anna said. Beside her, Jo wrote it down, her pen scratching in the silence.

  Morag looked winded. She seemed to sag in her chair.

  ‘What can you tell us about Ellen’s black book?’ Anna asked her now.

  ‘Oh, that!’ Morag said, seeming relieved to move on. ‘Yes, everyone knew about that.’

  ‘What did she write in it?’

  ‘Her theories, I’m sure. People’s misdemeanours, too. Probably had a page for each of her neighbours.’

  ‘Did she ever show it to you?’

  ‘Not inside it. She loved to carry it about, get it out in the tearoom and leaf through it. So pleased with herself.’ She paused and pursed her lips. ‘She was waving it about in here on Tuesday.’

  ‘On Tuesday? Three days ago, you mean?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  Anna’s phone began to buzz in her breast pocket. Irritated, she took it out and looked. Nick. She rejected the call, annoyed. She’d told him she’d be busy. Why couldn’t he just text? She put the phone back in her pocket.

  ‘What happened on Tuesday, Morag?’ she repeated.

  ‘It was lunchtime,’ Morag said. ‘Ellen was in for her bread. I serve her, but I’m not friendly to her. It was fairly busy, a couple of people having sandwiches, others in for a bit of shopping. I was in, so was Rosie. Scott McKellar was at one of the tables with his girlfriend. Ellen had made this big complaint about him earlier in the year. She spotted him and went over and started laying into him about materials falling off the back of his van, nonsense like that.

  ‘I don’t know what he said back to her, but she raised her voice and next thing they were having a full-on barney. Ellen took her black book out and started waving it about, but now she wasn’t talking to Scott but sort of addressing the whole cafe. Rosie went over to try to calm her down. It was embarrassing. “You get away from me,” Ellen said to Rosie. Rosie came scurrying back over. “I won’t have this,” I shouted. “Ellen – please just go.” She turned and looked about at all the faces – everyone just sat there, shocked as anything – then she looked at me and she had the book in her hands. “You’ll thank me one of these days,” she said, and she was holding the book in both hands, up under her chin, like it was a certificate or something. “You think I’m doing this out of spite, but I’m not. What’s been going on round here, it’s the tip of the iceberg. People dying under your noses. You’ve all got a big surprise coming soon, mark my words” – something like that. “What on earth are you talking about?” I asked her. But she drummed her fingers on the book, and she looked round the place, trying to meet people’s eyes, except everyone’s so embarrassed we all just looked at the floor, everyone avoiding looking at one other. “Hear me?” she shouted, because she’s not done yet.’

  Morag sat back, looking shocked at her own telling.

  ‘It was horrible. A proper “scene”, if you get me. And then she marched out. I’d say that’s the last time she was in here. My God,’ she said quietly, her frowning gaze locked with Anna’s. ‘That’s why someone killed her, isn’t it? She was talking to one of the people in the cafe on Tuesday afternoon. That’s what she meant, isn’t it, when she said, “Hear me”? Well, somebody heard, didn’t they? And they acted!’

  Anna’s heart was racing. ‘Tell us again exactly who was here, Morag,’ she said, hoping she sounded calm. ‘Can you remember?’

  Morag frowned. She lowered her eyes.

  ‘Oh, erm… let me see.’ She mouthed silently as she counted her fingers.

  Anna’s phone was buzzing again.

  ‘There was me and Rosie,’ Morag said. ‘Scott McKellar and his girlfriend. They were having a sandwich each. Her name’s Vonnie, short for Siobhan, I think. Ellen, Harriet too – she was in having coffee at one of the tables. Oh, I think Tess Cameron was in too, buying tins. Let me think who else… No, that’s it. The doctor came in a minute or two later – Dr MacCorkindale, you know? I remember saying to Carol as she was going, “If Vernon had been here he might have decided to section her.” But he didn’t come in until after, I’m sure of it. He might have seen her leave, of course. Anyone who was here would tell you about it. I mean, it was nothing new, really. Just Ellen being Ellen. It’s just… the timing seems significant. She said she had “a big surprise” – and two days later, she was killed.’

  ‘Ellen talked about people dying,’ Anna said. ‘Do you have any idea who she was talking about?’

  ‘No, but Ellen did like to talk about death. “Death spreading its wings”, “the angel of death”. Those were favourite sayings of hers. Very morbid. Like I said, she’d go miles to attend a funeral. Rosie and I – we put our heads together afterwards. We went online and looked up fatal accidents locally, just to try to work out what she was talking about, but we couldn’t make anything make sense. Ellen got very excited when that boy drowned, up the coast from here. That was end of last summer, wasn’t it, Jo?’ She looked up.

  ‘September, I think,’ Jo said. ‘By Druimdrishaig.’

  ‘What happened?’ Anna asked, her skin creeping. Druimdrishaig was a stone’s throw from the cabin. They’d had the place only a few months, though, and she’d never heard about any drowning.

  ‘A teenager,’ Jo said. ‘Seventeen and here on holiday from England with his parents and brother. The brothers were swimming off the boat and the elder of the two got into trouble. There was a fatal accident inquiry. No suspicious circumstances.’

  ‘Except then a rumour went about,’ Morag said. ‘A woman on the shore claimed she’d seen another boat out there, some sort of speedboat or RIB. The kind Scott McKellar uses to take people out to the whirlpool. But the lad’s brother said it wasn’t there. He didn’t see anything. That’s all.

  ‘There was that woman from Inverneil as well,’ Morag went on, ‘who died up by Loch nan Torran just before Christmas. Went up there on her own. Tripped, they think, and broke her leg. Died of exposure. No phone signal, no one knew where she’d gone. Eva something-or-other. Then there are the usual road accidents—Oh…’ She stopped and looked suddenly stricken, a hand to her mouth, eyes on Jo.

  ‘What, Morag?’ Anna pressed. Beside her, she sensed Jo tensing up.

  ‘Listen to me going on like this. Look, that day in the tearoom, it was just Ellen being Ellen, I’m sure.’ Morag put on a smile. ‘I really have to get back. Do you mind?’

  ‘I think that’s probably us,’ Anna said uncertainly.

  Morag got to her feet.

  Jo got up too. ‘Thank you for your time, Morag,’ the constable said, a little stiffly.

  ‘Yes. Well,’ Morag replied, ‘you know where to find me.’

  Nick called a third time as soon as Morag had left them.

  ‘Sorry, Jo,’ Anna said, holding up the buzzing phone.

  ‘I’ll go next door and see about some lunch,’ Jo said.

  Anna pressed answer. ‘Hiya,’ she said, trying not to sound too irritated.

  ‘Oh, thank God,’ Nick began. ‘Can you talk?’ He sounded hushed, as if he didn’t want to be overheard.

  ‘Obviously… What’s happened?’

  ‘Anna, the police are here.’

  ‘The police? My God, Nick. What’s happened?’

  ‘They arrived ten minutes ago, saying they need to speak to Mum.’ He was controlling his panic, but she could detect it in his words. ‘They say they’ve been looking for her for two days.’

  ‘What?’ Anna’s skin crawled. ‘I don’t understand. Police Scotland, or⁠—’

  ‘Police Scotland but acting on behalf of colleagues in the Met. They won’t say what it’s about but it’s something that happened in London. It must be serious, mustn’t it? They’re sitting in the kitchen, and they want to ask me more questions. I said I needed the loo. I’ve been trying to call.’

  She shut her eyes and reminded herself to keep calm. ‘You know I can’t always answer. Who are the officers?’

  ‘Two PCs. One is, erm, PC Grant. The other’s a Sergeant Yusuf.’

  ‘I don’t know either of them.’ She went to the window, looked outside for something to focus on as her brain was racing so fast. ‘What exactly did they say?’

  He took a moment. ‘Grant said, “Are you Nicholas Vaughan?” and I said yes. He said, “Is Melinda Stevenson your mother?” I said, “Yes, why?” I thought he was about to tell me she was dead. Then he said, “Is she here right now?” I said, “No.” I said she had been, but she wasn’t here now, and I didn’t know where she was. They asked to come in. I said, “What’s this about?” They said they needed to speak to her as a matter of urgency. I let them in. I mean, what choice did I have?’

  ‘Have they said why they want to talk to her?’ Anna asked.

  ‘No. They said they weren’t able to.’

  ‘My God,’ Anna murmured. ‘What the hell has she done?’

  ‘God knows. Should I talk to someone?’ he asked. ‘A solicitor? I mean, this could be criminal. Something to do with one of her conspiracies. I could ask at my firm, except we don’t do criminal law – also it’d be bloody embarrassing.’

  ‘There’s a good solicitor Lola used to know,’ Anna said, referring to her old boss. ‘Works out of an office in Cowcaddens. She’s Scots law but we could contact her for advice. If this is something Melinda did in London… My God, Nick, is that why she turned up at ours? Because she was on the run?’

  ‘What should I do?’

  ‘Tell the police you’ll contact them if your mum shows up. Say you’re planning to get legal advice. I’ll Google that solicitor and text you her name. Meantime, keep calm. And remember, whatever your mum’s done, it’s her responsibility.’

  They rang off.

  She shut her eyes and clamped a hand to her forehead. Of all the days…

  She went online and searched ‘solicitors + Glasgow + Robyn’ and there she was – the first search result. Robyn McArthur and an office address in Cowcaddens. She screenshotted the details and texted them to Nick.

  A gentle rap came at the door. ‘Come in,’ she called.

  It was Jo.

  ‘God, are you all right?’ Jo asked, seeing her face.

  ‘Not really,’ she said and swallowed. She took a deep breath and felt a strong urge to offload. ‘I think my mother-in-law’s about to be arrested,’ she said. ‘Two officers have turned up at my house. Nick’s freaking out.’

  ‘Do you need to go back?’ Jo looked suddenly very worried.

  ‘No,’ Anna assured her quickly. ‘I’m not leaving.’

  ‘Good,’ Jo said. ‘Nearly gave me a heart attack.’

  Anna took a moment to breathe, to get herself under control. To put Melinda as far from her mind as she could.

  ‘How do things look on the lunch front?’ she asked Jo.

  ‘Some nice-looking rolls. Come through and see. Rosie said to help ourselves and she’ll add them to the tab.’

  There were lovely-looking salad boxes too, but Anna’s churning stomach needed carbs. She chose a cheese and tomato roll, a bag of prawn cocktail crisps, and a Diet Coke to wash it down. Jo took her time choosing between the salad boxes. The cafe section of the little village shop had customers in for lunch. Anna saw a red-headed man with two little girls who were making a mess of their lunch. She wondered if he was Rosie’s husband, Olly. Carol Baillie was deep in conversation with Morag at the back of the cafe. They looked serious and intent, leaning in close, as if they were discussing something distasteful but pruriently fascinating.

  ‘Feta and olive,’ Jo said, showing Anna a box. ‘It’s the most calorific, but it’s better than a bag of chips, isn’t it?’

  They’d agreed not to talk about the case for the next ten minutes. Anna needed a break, especially with the latest news from home, but she also wanted to get to know Jo some more – before she probed her about her evident discomfort at the end of the interview with Morag.

  ‘I’ve been doing those weight loss injections,’ Jo said when they were both back in the meeting room. ‘Lost two-and-a-half stone. Then they put the prices up, so now I’m on my own. I’m trying.’ She ate an olive. ‘You keep in good shape,’ she said. ‘Are you a runner?’

  ‘When I can face it. Treadmill only, though – I hate running outside. I swim too. When we’re here at the cabin. I just love swimming in the sea.’

  ‘In a wetsuit?’

  ‘No.’ She smiled.

  ‘I couldn’t do it,’ Jo said. ‘Ali does it. She goes in with her mates, all seasons. She reckons it’s the reason she hasn’t had a cold in years.’