‘The doctor says you’re fit enough to answer questions,’ said Stewart.
‘Just a few,’ Jake said.
Stewart regarded Jake suspiciously.
‘I don’t think I’m going to get many useful answers anyway, do you?’ he demanded.
‘That depends,’ said Jake. ‘If I can help, I will.’
‘Right,’ said Stewart. He pulled a chair close to the bed and sat down on it, leaving the constable standing.
‘So, what’s the connection between you and Mrs Pamela Gordon?’ he asked.
‘We’re both staying at this guest house,’ said Jake. ‘Apart from that, there’s no connection.’
‘And yet she came and took you out of police custody after you were being questioned about the murder of her husband.’
‘Yes,’ said Jake.
Stewart studied Jake for a moment, then said, ‘She gave me a phone number to call. It turned out to be British intelligence. They ordered me to release you into her custody. Why would that be?’
‘I have no idea,’ said Jake.
‘It can only be because you’re either also working for British intelligence, or because they have first claim on you as a suspect.’
‘Or because I was innocent.’
‘If that was the case, it would have been left to a lawyer to deal with it. British intelligence putting their oar in and ordering your release suggests something else.’
‘What can I say?’ said Jake. ‘I don’t know why they did that. Perhaps you’d better ask Mrs Gordon?’
‘My colleagues in Oban are doing that as we speak,’ said Stewart. ‘But she seems as reluctant to tell us what’s going on as you.’ Changing tack, he asked, ‘Why were you both shot?’
‘I have no idea,’ said Jake. ‘If it crossed my mind that we were going to be targets, we’d have been more careful.’
‘So you can’t think of anyone who’d want to harm you or Mrs Gordon?’
‘No,’ said Jake. ‘Anyway, shouldn’t you be out looking for Helen, instead of talking to me? You know where I am if you need me. Helen is out there somewhere. She could be stuck down a crevice, or in a cave, or anywhere. She could be unconscious.’
‘We know, and we’ve got that in hand,’ said Stewart.
‘In hand, how?’ demanded Jake.
‘We’re liaising with search and rescue and the coastguard,’ Stewart said. ‘We’re going to implement a search.’
Good, thought Jake. He didn’t think that Lauren was lost on the island anywhere, but if she was being held prisoner in some outbuilding, they might find her. Unless, as Jake suspected, the Russians were holding her, in which case they’d resist any attempts to search their premises, claiming diplomatic immunity. But at least a search of the island would eliminate her being trapped in some cove.
Jake looked at Stewart, who was still regarding him with that suspicious glare. I need to get him out of here so I can get on with my own search for Lauren, thought Jake. He let out a small groan.
‘Actually, my head’s starting to pound a bit. Would you mind if we left it there for the moment? I can always answer any questions later. After all, I’m not going anywhere.’
Stewart continued to fix Jake with his baleful glare. After what seemed an age of an almost threatening silence, the detective sergeant grunted and said, ‘We have very little crime here because people behave, and we do a good job, which suits me. But when something big like this happens and I’m told to stay away from it by British intelligence, I feel insulted. I don’t take kindly to not being allowed to do my job properly.
‘So I’m going to be keeping an eye on you, Mr Wells. And I’m asking Constable Frierson here to do the same. Purely for your own safety, you understand. We wouldn’t want to disobey orders and put our noses where they’re not wanted.’ He stood up, jerked his thumb at the constable and the two of them left the room.
Chapter 20
After Stewart had gone, Jake lay in the bed and thought about his next move. He could get up, the doctor had said so. Nothing too strenuous. But he’d also said that fresh air would do Jake good. Well, there was fresh air around the Russians’ cottage. He’d start there.
He was about to get out of bed when there was a knock on his door. Jake wondered if it was the police returning.
‘Yes?’ he said, doing his best to sound weak and fragile.
The door opened and the concerned face of Ian Muir looked in.
‘Hi,’ he said. ‘I hope you don’t mind my looking in, but I thought, think of this as a hospital visit. You know, neighbours seeing how the other one is, that kind of thing.’