The Sound of Whales (9 page)

It made her think about the old story from Vacation Bible School about the man spewed forth from the mouth of a great fish, restored to life. The man called Jonah.

CHAPTER 13

‘
W
here
did you find my knife?' Ben asked.

‘Beside the dead man on the beach,' said Fraser.

‘And where is it now?'

‘It's under my bed. In a shoebox.'

‘Are you an idiot? Seriously?'

This was a new side to Ben: angry and incredulous at the same time.

‘I thought I was
 . . . 
I thought it might
 . . .
'

‘Thinking doesn't seem to be your strong point, Fraze.' Ben took one of the whiskies he held and downed it in a single gulp.

‘I thought the knife made you look guilty.'

‘Well, of course it does. My knife in the belly of a dead man makes me look guilty. But so does my knife stashed away under your bed. That makes me look doubly guilty.'

‘You're right. I'm sorry.'

Ben contemplated the other whisky but decided against it.

‘Does anyone else know about this?'

‘Just the American girl.'

‘Great. Teenage girls are
so
good at keeping secrets.'

‘She won't tell.'

‘I hope not. If she does, we're both in it deep. And I'm not talking about water this time.'

‘Aye.'

‘You're certain it was my knife?'

‘Aye.'

‘And you found it beside the dead man washed ashore?'

‘Aye.'

‘And now it's in a shoebox under your bed?'

Fraser nodded and hung his head, all out of ‘ayes'. He had thought he was doing the right thing, thought Ben would be grateful. Hayley had advised him to leave it alone but he hadn't listened.

‘Do you think I did it?' Ben asked.

‘No.'

‘That I gutted the man?'

‘Of course not.'

‘And what about your American friend?'

‘She's not so sure.'

‘Nice.'

Ben stood for a moment pondering the empty dance floor. He looked at Fraser, gave a sigh and looked away, said, ‘Tomorrow morning, first thing, you take my knife to the police and explain the exact circumstances of how you found it.'

‘But—'

‘No buts.'

‘But—'

‘Fraser.'

‘What will happen to you?'

‘Nothing will happen to me. I'll be questioned, but clearly someone has climbed on to my boat and lifted my knife. Just because it's mine doesn't mean I'm guilty.'

‘The police might not see it that way.'

‘Well, the alternative is the American girl blabbing and the police searching your bedroom and finding my knife. Then we will both have explaining to do.'

‘I'm in trouble either way.'

‘You are. And it serves you right.'

Ben shook his head scornfully and Fraser knew he had lost his trust. He had likely lost his place on the
Moby Dick
as well, lost the chance of further adventures, lost his bright future as one of the world's pre-eminent whale scientists.

‘Leave me alone now, Fraser.'

This was the moment to rescue the situation, to save his position as ‘seasonal voluntary assistant researcher', to make Ben see that not all the Dunbar boys were ridiculous. There was one thing that might do it.

‘I saw an orca last night. Several of them, round by the caves.'

Ben laughed dismissively. ‘I doubt it, Fraser.'

‘I did. Just along from the harbour.'

‘It was probably a basking shark.'

‘It was an orca. I know what an orca looks like.'

‘And I know that you don't get orcas in this part of the ocean. Further out, perhaps, but not here.'

‘It was orcas. Dunny saw them too.'

‘And he'll confirm your story?'

‘You know he won't.' The plan wasn't working. Ben was more irritated than before.

‘If you saw something, it was a basking shark. Trust me.'

‘No, it was
 . . .
'

Ben had gone, striding across the dance floor towards Hayley's mother. Fraser stood for a moment feeling foolish then moved to a dark corner and leant against the wall. The whole town was crammed into the room, he was surrounded by laughter and chatter, but he felt alone and miserable. He was alone and Jonah was dead.

‘Jonah's alive,' said a voice.

He turned and Hayley was beside him, panting slightly, eyes shining.

‘Jonah's alive,' she said again. ‘I saw him by the harbour, hiding behind the wall. It was definitely Jonah, there's no mistaking him, I know it was him, definitely him
 . . .
'

‘Whoa!' Fraser held up his hand. ‘Hayley, take a breath.'

The girl took a deep lungful and said quietly, ‘It was Jonah.'

‘Are you sure?'

‘I saw him.'

‘But
we
saw him, dead on the beach.'

‘No, we didn't. His face was buried in the sand.'

‘But how many Africans are there in Skulavaig?'

‘At least two.'

‘So who is the dead guy?'

Hayley shrugged. ‘It can't be coincidence that there are two unexplained black men in Skulavaig at the same time.'

‘I knew Ben wasn't a murderer.'

‘Well, someone is still dead.'

In the clamour of voices and laughter and clinking glasses Fraser thought he could hear his heart thump against his ribs. He had helped Jonah, fed him, trusted him. Was
Jonah
the murderer?

‘We have to go to the police,' Hayley said.

‘We can't.'

‘Why not?'

‘Because we might be accomplices to murder.'

‘Hardly.'

‘No? I helped hide a man and gave him food and clothes. Now he may have murdered someone. And I was on Ben's boat; I knew where he kept that knife and now it's under my bed.' Fraser gave a long sigh. ‘I think we're in trouble.'

‘Less of the
we
. It's not my sweatshirt and socks he's wearing.'

‘No, but you were with him on the beach last night. And you found the body and told no one except me.'

The colour drained from Hayley's face. ‘What do we do?'

‘We find Jonah.'

‘And then what?'

‘Get some answers.'

‘Is that before or after he stabs us?'

‘I have the knife.'

‘That's OK, then. After all, he's only a large grown man. No match for a girl and a skinny Scottish boy.'

He thought himself toned not skinny, but this was not the time to argue. ‘Why is Jonah sneaking around the harbour? Why not lie low in his cave?'

‘Maybe he hasn't finished his murderous rampage yet. Maybe he's looking for anyone who knows he's on the island.'

‘This is Nin, not Texas. We don't do serial killers on Nin.'

‘We have to go to the police.'

‘No, not yet.
We'll
end up in jail and Jonah will disappear.'

‘What then? We have to tell someone.'

‘No. We have to sort out this mess ourselves.'

‘And how do we do that?'

‘I told you, we find Jonah.'

‘That's the worst idea. That's like those horror movies when someone goes into a dark basement by themself to investigate a strange noise and you're thinking,
No one would do that
. That's you, Fraser. You're looking for trouble.'

Trouble is already here
, Fraser thought. In the last few years Nin had become an island that people left, but recently five people had arrived: Ben, Hayley, her mom, Jonah and the dead man. All of them brought secrets and mysteries to his small town and all of them seemed connected to each other,
through him
.

Fraser felt as if he was standing in the eye of a perfect storm, the furious wind spinning around him, destroying his calm life. And that was fine; calm meant boring. He
liked
this furious wind that blew in strangers and dangers. The thrill of it made his whole body tingle.

‘Come on,' he said to Hayley over his shoulder as the ceilidh band retook their positions. He heard the American girl mutter, ‘Not in this lifetime,' as he dived through the door out into the night.

CHAPTER 14

H
ayley was staying where she was. Let Fraser Dunbar be the hero and get himself killed in the process.

She sat down and watched the dancers begin another Highland reel. Her mom and Ben McCaig were dancing together again. She tried to feel more outrage but the truth was that her mother could dance with whoever she liked. The truth was that her dad had walked out on them both and was gone for good.

Her eyes began to fill and she resolved not to let a single tear graze her cheek. Fraser would be gone by now, so she stood up and headed for the door. She was going home – not to sunny Texas, but to a cold cottage where she slept on a sofa bed and listened to the wind rattle the windows and make the fire in the hearth flicker and crack.

Outside the quietness was disconcerting. It was like being the sole survivor in a post-apocalyptic world. She half expected a zombie to make an appearance. She sat on the weathered stones of the harbour wall with her back against an old bollard and stretched out her legs. The sea was beginning to roll and big waves were breaking against the headland.

At the sound of voices she turned her head. Two police officers were strolling towards their empty patrol car. They were talking quietly but their conversation drifted on the breeze blowing in across the harbour. Hayley was hidden by the bollard and they made no effort to guard their words.

‘Who told you this?' one of the officers said.

‘It was that DS from Inverness, McKinnon, I think his name is.'

‘Big, red-headed laddie?'

‘Aye, that's the one. Wouldnae stop moaning about the sand in his socks.' The second officer laughed.

Hayley faced the sea and listened.

‘So it wasnae murder, then?'

‘It seems not. According to the pathologist, the victim died from drowning.'

Hayley stifled the urge to squeal and jump up. Instead she pushed herself further down behind the bollard and listened all the more intently. She heard the clunk of car doors being unlocked remotely.

‘So what about the slash to the gut?'

‘It was done post-mortem.'

‘Something in the sea?'

‘No, it was a knife wound.'

‘Why would somebody stab a dead man?'

Car doors opened.

‘I guess that's what those detectives up at the hotel are going to have to find out tomorrow. Assuming they're not too hung-over.'

‘Are they blootered?'

‘Getting there. I tell you, I've never seen such a bunch of—'

The car doors slammed and the voices were gone. Instead Hayley heard the engine start and the car pull away from the harbour. She peered carefully from behind the bollard and watched the police car drive up on to the main road and away. Silence once more descended on the harbour, except for a distant tune from the ceilidh band and the murmur of the ocean beneath her.

Hayley turned back to face the sea and tried to digest this piece of information. Both Ben and Jonah were in the clear, at least as far as first-degree homicide was concerned. But who was the man dead on the beach and why had he been stabbed after he'd drowned? If anyone knew the answers to those questions, it was probably Jonah. In the morning the police would begin to interview the islanders, so they had to get their story straight. She had to find Fraser.

Hayley got to her feet and stood on the harbour jetty, looking three hundred and sixty degrees, straining into the dark. There was no sign of anyone.

Where would Fraser go to find Jonah? The answer was obvious.

The caves.

CHAPTER 15

I
t was high tide and Fraser walked on a narrow strip of sand as he strode towards the cliffs. It was possible that Jonah could jump out from behind a rock and slit his throat, but he dismissed the thought, excited that the adventure was back on.

The sky was black and the wind was rising. The dark cliffs loomed above his head. Fraser was a silhouette against the ocean and he knew Jonah would see him coming.

He walked on, every muscle in his body tense, almost tasting the adrenaline. At the big cave he called out, ‘Jonah.'

There was no reply, no movement.

‘It's Fraser. Are you there? Jonah.'

Fraser heard only the sound of breaking waves and his own slow breaths. It was foolish to imagine that Jonah would have returned here, not if he was fleeing the scene of a crime or planning to commit another. Fraser stood and stared at the dark, empty cave.

A deep voice behind him made him jump.

‘All men are African. The world forgets that. Do you feel your inner Africa, Fraser?'

Fraser spun around. Jonah stood on the beach, his feet lapped by surf. He was fed now and rested; he seemed bigger, his back straighter, his voice more confident.

‘We thought you were dead.'

‘The part of you that makes you walk along beaches at night seeking danger, that part is your inner Africa.'

‘Am I in danger?' Fraser asked, his mouth suddenly dry.

‘Do you think you are?'

‘Maybe.'

‘From me?'

‘Maybe.'

‘You thought I was dead?'

‘The body on the beach.'

‘You thought it was me?'

‘He looked like you.'

‘He was a fellow traveller.'

‘You knew him?'

‘His name was Solomon. Another name from the Good Book, though he was not a good man.'

‘Is that why you killed him?'

Jonah moved up the beach. Fraser took a step backward, then another.

‘I did not kill anyone, Fraser. The dead man drowned and was washed ashore.'

‘How do you know that?'

‘Because two nights ago he and I jumped into the water at the same time.'

‘And what about the big hole in his belly?'

‘I know nothing of that.'

The African took another couple of steps up the beach and Fraser took another step backward. He wanted to run but he wanted to stay, to find out the truth. He picked up a piece of rock that had broken from the cliff face and held it in the air.

‘Don't come any closer.'

Jonah took another step. ‘You would not be the first to throw stones at me.'

‘Stay there. I mean it.' Fraser knew he shouldn't have picked up the rock; he was a hopeless thrower. He should have run but he was a hopeless runner – not fast, anyway, and speed was needed here, not stamina. He was back to the rock.

Jonah took a step closer and another Bible character came to mind: Goliath. Fraser was the boy, David. He took a breath, drew his arm back, judged his aim.

‘No, Fraser!'

Hayley was running towards them, puffs of sand kicking up from her heels.

‘No!' she screamed again.

Whether it was surprise or panic or confusion, Fraser did the exact opposite of what he intended. His brain told him to drop the rock; his reflexes did something else altogether and without thinking he launched it straight at Jonah. With a dull thud the rock hit him on the side of the head.

The African looked surprised, swayed for a moment, then fell to one knee. He gripped the sand with one hand and his head with the other. A trickle of blood ran down the side of his face.

‘What have you done?' Hayley asked, gulping for air.

‘He wouldn't stay where he was.'

‘Jonah is not a killer,' Hayley said. ‘No one has been killed.'

Jonah sat on the sand, looking dazed, and breathed slowly as if trying to contain his rage. ‘A bigger stone and you may have killed
me
.'

‘Sorry,' Fraser said. ‘I didn't mean to throw it.' He gave an inadvertent laugh. ‘I can't believe I actually hit you.'

‘The body on the beach,' Hayley said. ‘He wasn't murdered. He drowned.'

‘I have already told him,' Jonah said. ‘But still he throws the stone.'

‘I heard two police officers talking,' Hayley continued. ‘They said the body was already dead when it washed ashore. The knife was stuck into it later.'

‘That body was a man called Solomon,' Jonah said to Hayley. ‘I have told the boy already.'

‘I don't understand any of this,' Fraser said.

Jonah carefully touched the side of his head. It wasn't a deep cut but the blood still flowed. ‘Then I better help you understand, before you pick a bigger stone.'

‘I'm sorry,' Fraser repeated. He offered Jonah a handkerchief from his pocket and the man held it against his head.

‘Come, and I will tell you what you want to know.'

Jonah lifted himself from the sand and walked to the bottom of the cliff. He was about to pull himself up the boulders towards the cave when he froze and pressed himself flat against the rocks. He motioned for Fraser and Hayley to get down. For a few seconds the two of them stared dumbly at Jonah, then, straining his eyes in the gloom, Fraser spotted a figure only a couple of hundred metres down the beach, coming straight towards them.

It was too late for Fraser and Hayley to hide; they were halfway between the cliff and the sea. Fraser watched Jonah squeeze himself between the rocks. He shook his head, placed a finger to his lips.

The stranger emerged from the dark; it was Willie McGregor. Fraser wondered why he was wandering around so late, then realized Willie would be thinking the same of him. He frantically thought of a reason to be on this stretch of beach. Whale watching, except there were no whales; beachcombing, it was too dark; stargazing, that was a possibility, even though the sky was clouding over.

He turned to Hayley but before he could say a word she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him on the lips.

He wouldn't have suggested that in a million years. But it was a thrill right up there with watching orcas and sailing lobster boats in storms: he was being kissed by a girl, was kissing her back and, it seemed to him, making a decent go at it.

‘Oh, excuse me,' he heard Willie say.

Fraser and Hayley unlocked their lips and turned to face him.

‘Sorry, Fraser. Sorry, lass. I dinnae mean to disturb you,' Willie said.

Hayley wrapped an arm around Fraser's waist. ‘That's OK. We were just enjoying the night air.'

The kiss had taken the breath out of Fraser. With a gasp he asked, ‘What are you doing out here, Willie? The ceilidh can't be finished yet?'

‘No, it was just getting a bit noisy, that's all. I thought I would take a walk.'

There was a pause and Fraser could sense only the touch of Hayley's arm around his waist. He gingerly placed a hand on her back.

‘I'm Hayley,' she said breezily.

‘Aye, lass, I saw you and your mother at the dance. How are you enjoying Skulavaig?'

‘Oh, it's wonderful. Especially now.' She gave Fraser her most loving look, batting her eyelashes and wrinkling her nose as she squeezed him round the middle. Fraser tried again to breathe.

Willie laughed. ‘Well, dinnae stay out too late. There's a storm coming.'

He turned and headed back the way he had come. They watched him until he had disappeared around the curve of the coast and their part of the beach was empty again.

‘Great,' Fraser said. ‘Now the whole town will think we're together.'

Hayley unwrapped her arm from his waist. ‘I think it'll do more for your status than mine.'

Fraser snorted at such conceit, tried to forget momentarily about the kiss. There were far more pressing problems to overcome.

‘Jonah can't hang around here. It's only a matter of time until he's discovered.'

‘Where can he go?'

‘Where does he want to go, that's the real question.'

Jonah had disappeared into the blackness of the cave but it was Fraser who was in the dark.