Highland Fling Episode 32

“It’s too late now, old boy,” Bruce said, as he returned with the rabbit’s hind legs jutting from the game pouch slung over his shoulder. Jinx barked again. He strained, pulling Eleanor downhill into the wind.

“He’s had enough of the scenery, apparently,” Eleanor called over her shoulder. “Maybe we should go on. There’s another outlook further along. It’s a good spot for twitchers. There is a pair of eagles that nest on the crags, though it’s too early in the year to see them.”

“We should have brought binoculars,” Mcgregor chimed as Eleanor disappeared down the slope with a determined Jinx ahead.

The others followed. It was pleasant in the sunshine, though the wind was bracing. Mirabelle held Mcgregor’s hand. “Our land stretches as far as the largest Munro over there,” Bruce pointed out. Jinx was now barking so loudly that it was difficult to make out what Bruce was saying. “Whatever has got into that animal?” he snapped. Eleanor struggled to control him. “Jinx!” she berated, but it was useless.

At speed the descent was difficult. Mirabelle couldn’t help thinking of a John Buchan book she’d read where the hero had escaped, running miles across this kind of terrain, disappearing into the heather. Running would be dangerous – the ground was too uneven. Though not for Jinx. He dragged Eleanor across a bank of shale, on to the track and into a ditch, beyond which the land dropped into a long field planted with potatoes.

A moment later, Eleanor screamed, mud spattering her overcoat as she dropped the animal’s lead. For a moment, both Eleanor and the dog disappeared out of sight on the lower ground. Then Jinx barked again. Behind them, everyone broke into a run, Bruce loading his gun as he went. Then Eleanor’s face appeared above the line of the track. Her skin was pink, her mouth open in a quivering, uneven slash. “Are you all right?” Tash shouted. The sound Eleanor made in reply was not related to speech. It was a high, keening note.

“What is it, darling?” Bruce called. Eleanor stopped dead. “It’s Susan,” she said weakly.

Mcgregor and Mirabelle moved forward as the others fell back. It was telling, Mirabelle thought, people’s first reaction. There was no time to consider – you simply did what you did. Together she and Mcgregor climbed across the trench. The mud splashed cold on their ankles as they dropped on to the thick earth on the other side. The girl’s body was soaked. Wet hair covered her face. Her legs were spattered with mud. Mirabelle crouched and felt, hopelessly, for a pulse. She brushed Susan’s mousy tresses across her cheek and scanned the body for some kind of wound. There was nothing. Mcgregor put his arm around Eleanor, holding her back as much as comforting her. “It’s a nightmare,” Eleanor shouted and started to cry. He managed to pull her away, and with Bruce’s help guided her on to the track. Then he turned towards Mirabelle, who had completed a rudimentary examination of the body.

“It’s a hangman’s fracture,” she pronounced. “What’s that?” Tash squealed. “Her neck’s broken,” Mcgregor explained. “Did she fall?” Tash babbled. “I mean, maybe she cut across the field and fell.”

Mirabelle stood up. “No. If that was the case, she would have tried to break her fall. She’d have gone down with her hands ahead of her. This is a professional job,” she said. “Someone broke her neck from behind. This wasn’t an accident. This woman was murdered.”

“You mean, someone...” Tash’s voice tailed off. “God. This place.”

“I’ll stay with her,” Mirabelle took charge. “You should all go back to the house and alert the police.”

“You can’t stay alone,” Mcgregor sounded concerned. “He could still be nearby. Anything could happen.”

“My guess is that she died yesterday. I doubt whoever did it will still be here. We can’t just leave her, and you’re the best one to talk to the officers,” Mirabelle replied. Bruce looked as if he was about to speak. “You need to look after your wife,” she added. She was right. Eleanor was crying silently, her knuckles white as she clenched her fists, as if she had something to hold on to when, the truth was, there was nothing to grasp. Niko had his arm around Tash, who looked as if she was going to be sick.

“There’s nobody up here – not now,” Mirabelle said steadily. “I’m just securing the scene. Like a policewoman.” Mcgregor nodded curtly.

“I can’t believe she’s just lying on the ground,” Eleanor said. “Like roadkill or a dead cat. An animal out in the fields.” “Hush,” Bruce murmured.

“Are you sure you will be all right?” Mcgregor checked. “Yes. Go,” Mirabelle said.

Mirabelle watched as the group disappeared ragtag down the laneway, Tash crying as Niko guided her. Eleanor seemingly limping, and Jinx trailing his lead through the puddles. The sky above them was clear blue for miles, like a postcard. Mcgregor looked back and she limply raised her arm.

Once they were out of sight, Mirabelle turned to the body. Susan was still wearing the apron she had on when she’d brought the coffee to Eleanor’s office the day before. She wasn’t dressed to walk home – no coat, no hat. She would never have come up here in her day clothes – a good quarter of an hour away from the house as the crow flies – in the driving rain. Mirabelle checked the girl’s pockets, which contained only a safety pin and a handkerchief. She inspected the obvious places on her skin, looking for defensive wounds but, she concluded, it was most likely Susan hadn’t even known someone was attacking her. The killer must have taken her completely by surprise, in or near the house. Had he come from behind, she wondered? It was a quick and more professional hit, Mirabelle realised, than the one on Nina Orlova. It was almost as if the killer had taken her advice the day before – to remove the body somewhere it was less likely to be found or perhaps to kill the girl elsewhere. Was it even the same person, or were there two murderers, here in the middle of nowhere? She shuddered at the thought and wondered what the girl had wanted to say to Eleanor when she’d interrupted their conversation in the office.

“What happened to you?” she whispered to the silent, muddy corpse.

Jinx barked again. Behind them, everyone broke into a run, Bruce loading his gun as he went. Then Eleanor’s face appeared...

More tomorrow.

Copyright © Sara Sheridan 2020, extracted from Highland Fling, published by Constable, an imprint of Little, Brown Book Group, at £8.99