Misty Island Refuge E-Book

Evelyn Orange

• Herausgeber: WS
• Kategorie: Abenteuer, Thriller, Horror
• Serie: Cosy Crime
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 224

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024

Beschreibung

Izzie takes a summer job on a remote Scottish island to take her mind off a disastrous romance. Her plan is a success, and she soon finds herself involved in an archaeological dig which, as well as ancient relics, turns up jealousy, corruption and danger . . .

Leseprobe

MISTY ISLAND REFUGE

by Evelyn Orange

Chapter 1

P

leasure flooded through Izzie when she opened the curtains and was met with a scene which could have been painted by a famous artist.

Each of the mornings since she had arrived, the vista had been different. Today the tree-lined driveway of Arasay House was barely visible through the morning mist, the distant hills shrouded, as was her usual glimpse of the sea. The mystery of this wild place was already soothing her bruised soul.

Her flat in the upper floor of an old barn looked out across the courtyard of Arasay House. Most of the former farm buildings had been converted into holiday accommodation, a vital income for the estate of the Laird on this remote Scottish island.

This was the end of Izzie’s first week working part-time in the estate office, and today was free for her. She’d had Tuesday and Wednesday to get to know the office, and had spent yesterday, Thursday, doing freelance editing which was her usual day job.

Luckily the internet connection was good in Izzie’s flat, which wasn’t always the case on the island as it was a two-hour ferry trip from mainland Scotland.

Giving her shoulder-length wavy brown hair a rough towel-dry, Izzie tied it up into a knot and switched on her laptop.

She opened up the document she was currently proofreading, a thesis for a history student. At that moment a ray of sun penetrated the mist and fell across the large canvas on her easel.

What a mistake to leave it in her line of sight while trying to work! Now she longed to return to her painting of the cove she had discovered on her first day here.

On an impulse, Izzie saved the file and switched off her laptop. I’ll take the morning off, and spend the afternoon and evening on the editing, she promised herself, smothering her guilt.

Ten minutes later she had packed her art equipment in her rucksack and was locking the door of her flat. Suddenly her mobile phone burst into song. Izzie couldn’t ignore the call, as it was from Ailsa, the manager of the estate office.

“Isabella? I know it’s your day off, but Becky has called in sick. Is there any chance you could help out in the office today? We’ll be busy because of the archaeology students arriving. They’ll need directing to the bunkhouse.”

Izzie’s enthusiasm for her morning’s painting evaporated.

“You caught me just in time. I’ll change and be with you in about fifteen minutes.”

“Wonderful! We’ll make up the time for you in the future.”

With a stab of regret, she reassembled the easel and placed the painting on it, but left the rucksack packed. Although she should only have to work for the estate for two and a half days each week, her contract required her give extra cover if needed.

A quick change into black trousers and white blouse, then she headed over to the office, just across the courtyard – one of the advantages of living on-site.

Ailsa, sister to the Laird of the estate, was booting up the computer. She greeted Izzie warmly and thanked her for coming so promptly. Although she was in her mid-sixties, Ailsa’s short blonde bobbed hair and trim figure made her look younger. Her ready smile and unflappable manner also contributed to her youthful aura.

“Are you staying?” Izzie asked nervously, knowing that she was still unfamiliar with the new job.

“I’ll be popping in and out. My brother and his wife are returning today for the summer, so I need to check that all is in place up at the main house. David and Portia return every year at this time, though their three children are grown up now.”

Izzie slipped her phone into a drawer behind the counter.

“I hope I won’t make any mistakes,” she muttered.

“It’s just a matter of handing out keys to the archaeology students as they arrive. They’re all in the bunkhouse. Could you print off a pile of estate maps to help them find their way there? It’s about half a mile’s walk.”

“Is anyone else coming in to work today?”

“Mollie will be in this afternoon, but she had something else on this morning and couldn’t cancel.”

Izzie nodded thankfully, and opened up the map file once Ailsa had gone. The ferry from Oban was due to arrive around midday, so she didn’t expect to see any students before then. Hopefully she’d cope if any of the rental guests asked for holiday information.

At twelve thirty, Izzie was eating an apple when she heard the sound of wheels entering the gravel car park beyond the courtyard. A slamming of doors, shouts and laughter heralded the arrival of a group of people. Nervously she threw the core into the bin and wiped her sticky fingers. She would have to try and look competent.

A group of three girls and a young man dumped their copious rucksacks outside the door of the office before entering.

Izzie checked off their names and handed out keys along with the newly printed maps. Another group of two followed on their heels, then a further four.

Izzie found her heart rate increasing as the office became crowded. She’d been working from home on her editing for too long. Even client and publisher meetings were conducted online these days.

The last student to enter was a tall young woman with hair dyed turquoise and tied into two shoulder-length plaits. She wore a denim jacket over her t-shirt and black jeans.

“Keep the place tidy till I get there!” she called to the others as they headed out. Izzie judged that she was in her mid-twenties, around her own age.

The newcomer breezed confidently over to the desk.

“Hi, I’m Sophie Lingwood. I’m a PhD student, and I’m in charge of that rabble for the next few weeks.”

Her grin didn’t look friendly – Izzie had the impression that Sophie was pushing her superiority. There was something in the way the young woman seemed to peer down her nose at her that rubbed Izzie up the wrong way.

She kept her own face set into neutral lines while she checked Sophie’s name on the list.

“Welcome to Arasay House Estate.” She handed her a key. “Here’s a map of how to get to the bunkhouse. You go back to the car park and turn left.”

Sophie took the key with a small grunt, but then paused.

“Is there anything else available at the moment? The undergrads can be a bit much at times.”

Izzie obligingly checked, but came up with a blank.

“Sorry, it’s all booked solid.”

Sophie pursed her lips.

“Our senior lecturer, Ross McCrinan, won’t be here for another two weeks. He’s been allocated separate accommodation. I don’t see why I couldn’t occupy it until he arrives.” She raised an eyebrow.

The student’s provocation made Izzie feel defensive.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know anything about that. There’s nothing on the notes on the computer.”

With an exaggerated sigh, the other exclaimed, “Fine!” and stomped out of the office.

A momentary pang of guilt for upsetting her stabbed Izzie, then she shook herself. She couldn’t just go on Sophie’s word, even if she was working on a PhD!

Half an hour later, Mollie arrived. She and her friend Becky were working on Arasay for the summer as part of a round-the-world trip after graduating in Australia the previous year.

Izzie welcomed her, thankful for her colleague’s exuberant confidence. Mollie’s blonde-tipped curls bounced as she recounted her experience of eagle-spotting that morning. Impressed at her description, Izzie vowed that it was something she would have to do before her time on Arasay finished.

About an hour later, an older man with shoulder-length grey hair and a full beard entered the office. He nodded affably to Izzie, and waved a hand towards the minibus which could be seen over the top of the courtyard wall.

“I see those young hooligans have arrived already.” The deep rolled ‘r’s of his Scottish accent sounded like a friendly growl. One side of his mouth twisted up wryly, belying the severity of his words.

“Yes, they’re all settling into the bunkhouse.”

“Good.” He held out a hand to her. “I’m Alec Jackson, from Highlands and Islands Archaeology, and I’ll be in charge of the dig until Ross McCrinan arrives.

“He’s been delayed on a dig in Sweden, and will be arriving two weeks tomorrow. Then he’ll look after the students. We’re expecting groups from various educational establishments over the next few months.”

Izzie took his hand, appreciating his firm handshake. His wry humour was reassuring and comfortable. It only took a few minutes to book him into his reserved courtyard flat.

There were fourteen of these units in all, three of which were used by summer staff like herself. There were three cottages too, one of which was earmarked for the absent Ross McCrinan.

Alec stuffed the key into his fleece jacket.

“Thanks, lass. What’s your name? I can tell from your accent that you’re not from round here. One of the summer staff, are you?”

Izzie laughed.

“I’m Isabella Mead – Izzie – from Durham, and not a drop of Scottish blood in me – although my cousin is half McCrinan. Her mother grew up on Arasay, and now Jenna’s married to another local and lives here. She found the job for me.”

“McCrinan! I’d forgotten that the island is the ancestral home of the clan. Of course, our Prof. is a McCrinan, too – though I don’t believe that any of his family have lived here for a good century or so. Maybe you’re a Scot by proxy, being related to one of the clan.”

Izzie wished him a pleasant stay and he departed, whistling. Then a giggle from behind her made her whirl round. Mollie was grinning wickedly.

“You’re in there, Izzie! You’ll have all the males of the archaeology team at your feet soon!”

Izzie blushed furiously.

“Don’t be daft! He must be fifty! Anyway, you can think a man is nice without being attracted to him. He was kind and cheerful.”

Mollie slipped into the seat in front of the computer, and put her head on one side.

“I’m only teasing you. No doubt he would have turned the same charm on me if I’d been here.”

Izzie shrugged.

“Ailsa should be back soon. She’s spent most of the day up at the house, making sure everything’s in order for the Laird and his wife.”

“You should have flourished your ace card – that your cousin is married to Ailsa’s son, the Laird’s nephew. Not to mention that both Jenna and Jake are famous in their own right.”

Izzie shook her head. Mollie was infuriating at times, but she was warm-hearted and fun, so all she could do was let it roll off her back.

People tended to be astonished that someone as mousy as herself had a cousin who’d been a rock star before marrying a wildlife photographer and settling into family life on this remote Scottish island.

Jenna now recorded haunting songs and melodies inspired by her new home. Her talented cousin’s colourful life had luckily never affected their closeness.

* * *

On the following Saturday, just before five, a young couple entered the office. They were frowning and talking quietly to each other. He put his arm round her shoulders, but she shrugged him off in an irritable manner.

The man approached Izzie at the desk. Her colleague Neil was outside checking the locks on the outbuildings, as they would be closing soon.

The young man looked at her with soulful dark eyes, laying his hands on the counter. His dark hair was ruffled. Behind him, the young woman appeared to be trying to suppress tears, dabbing her eyes with a tissue.

“Excuse me miss, I hope you can help us,” the man said. “We arrived on the island expecting to spend a week in a cottage, but it seems they have double booked. We have nowhere to stay.”

Izzie’s heart sank, knowing she had to disappoint them.

“I’m sorry, we’re absolutely full. We have an archaeological dig starting, and even the bunkhouse is totally occupied.”

At her words, the young woman gave a choked sob, clutching her tissue to her face. The man turned and put his arm around her in a tender gesture, which smote Izzie’s heart. Then he faced the desk again.

“Is there really nothing at all? You see, my wife is pregnant, just early months you know, but she is very tired and it would be terrible if she had to sleep in the car.” They both turned sad eyes upon Izzie.

Touched by their predicament, Izzie racked her brains to find a way of helping them. Then a thought struck her.

That archaeology lecturer wouldn’t be arriving for another week, so there was an empty cottage.

“There might be something I can do. Hold on – I’ll ring my supervisor.” She tried calling Ailsa’s number – but there was no reply. Eventually she gave up and replaced the office phone on its stand.

“I’m sorry, I can’t get through. Couldn’t the place where you originally booked find anything for you? After all, it’s their mistake.”

The young man sighed.

“No, they tried but couldn’t find anything. They suggested that we come here because it has the most accommodation.”

Izzie felt indignant that the people who’d let them down hadn’t thought to ring round and see if one of their friends could put up the couple for a night.

She herself knew no-one except Jenna, but of course her house was full with Jake being back from his assignment, plus the two children.

Her cousin was in late pregnancy herself, and it would be too much of an imposition. No, she would have to use her own initiative.

“One of the members of the dig team has been delayed, so Maris Cottage will be free this coming week. I’m sure my employer won’t mind if I put you in there.”

The couple gasped in delight and thanked Izzie profusely. They gave their names as Benjamin and Amelia Wilson, though they had slight accents that she couldn’t place. Their address was Woking in Surrey.

After finishing the registration on the computer and taking their card payment, she handed over the key to the cottage and gave them directions how to get there. It was more remote than the other accommodation, a cottage on its own towards the sea.

Benjamin Wilson grasped her hand and squeezed it fervently.

“You’ve no idea how much this means to us! We are eternally grateful.”

When Neil returned, Izzie mentioned what she had done, but he merely nodded and said he was heading off.

Izzie took the decision to remain at the office until after 6pm in case the Wilsons contacted her with any problems. When that time came and they hadn’t returned, she closed the office and headed to her own flat.

Next morning she managed to reach Ailsa on the phone. After a hesitation, her boss agreed that it was all right for the Wilsons to be in the cottage, though she was shocked that their other hosts had let them down so unkindly. Izzie was relieved that Ailsa didn’t think she’d overstepped her authority.

* * *

Izzie worked an extra shift on Wednesday afternoon to cover for Becky, who had been given the chance to go on a boat trip to one of the neighbouring islands.

It was a quiet day in the office. Izzie and Tania, a resident of the island and permanent member of staff, were working on administrative work for the estate.

Izzie found this fascinating, as the Laird owned the whole island, and all the rents for the farms and many dwellings came to him. There was also paperwork for the estate’s own farm.

In the late afternoon Izzie noticed through the windows a man approaching the office door. Tania stood up as he entered.

He was tall, thirtyish, with a small beard and short dark blond hair. Despite the athleticism of his body, he looked bowed and weary. His face was unsmiling as he came towards the desk.

At Tania’s polite offer to help him, he gave her a penetrating look. Izzie noticed that his eyes were an icy blue.

“I’m Ross McCrinan. I was delayed for a few days, but I’m here now to take up my work on the dig. I understand that there’s a cottage reserved for me.”

No! He wasn’t supposed to be here until next week! What was going to happen now?

Chapter 2

T

ania opened up the accommodation file and frowned.

“There seems to be some mistake – there’s already someone occupying Maris Cottage.”

Izzie forced herself to her feet, her arms and legs like lead.

“No, it’s not a mistake. As we were told that the cottage was empty this week, I let a young couple have it. They had been double-booked elsewhere and were desperate for somewhere to stay.”

Ross McCrinan’s head snapped round towards her.

“So you decided to double-book my accommodation instead?” His deep voice was hard, his gaze hostile.

She shrivelled inside.

“We’d been told you wouldn’t be arriving until the weekend. It seemed a good solution. I checked with . . .”

He didn’t give her time to finish her sentence.

“So where am I supposed to sleep? It’s taken me all day to get here from Sweden, where I’ve been working night and day to finish up on a dig.

“All I want at this moment is a shower and a bed.” His jaw was set. “My bed.”

“I’m terribly sorry, Mr McCrinan,” Tania fussed, removing her glasses. “We’ll find you somewhere to stay for the next few days. Maybe Mr Jackson . . .”

“No! It’s all right.” Izzie interrupted her fluttering apology. “It’s my fault. You can have my flat. It’s small, but comfortable. I’ll go over straight away and prepare it for you.”

With a grunt, Ross McCrinan seemed to accept this solution.

“Is there somewhere I can get a cup of coffee while I’m waiting?”

“I’ll get you one, while Izzie is getting the flat ready. Won’t you sit down?”

Izzie hurried past the disgruntled archaeologist, wishing that the ground could swallow her. She hardly noticed the rain which had been falling steadily for the past hour as she crossed the courtyard to the laundry.

Thankfully there were plenty of clean sheets and towels, so she grabbed what she needed and ran quickly over to her flat.

Pulling her suitcase into the middle of the floor, she tossed in her belongings. She cleaned the bathroom and the tiny kitchenette, changed the bed and laid out clean towels.

Luckily all her dishes were washed, and she’d vacuumed the place the previous day. As she looked round the flat before leaving, she realised that her easel with the nearly finished painting was still propped against the wall.

Well, there was no way she was taking it out in this weather. He’d just have to live with it for three nights.

After dropping off the used bed linen and towels in the laundry unit, she humped her suitcase down the stairs and back to the office. Tania looked relieved to see her, but there was no sign of Ross McCrinan.

“He’s gone to his car to get his belongings,” the older woman explained. “Where are you going to sleep?

“I’d offer you a place at ours, but we only have two bedrooms and our son occupies one of them. Our settee isn’t big enough to sleep on.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll bunk up with Mollie and Becky. There’s a good-sized sofa in their flat. It’s only for three nights.”

The two Australians were in their apartment when Izzie knocked on the door half an hour later. Although they were surprised to see her with a suitcase, they ushered her in as soon as they heard her story.

“That’s bad luck. After everyone saying he wasn’t coming until next week,” Becky said as she stowed Izzie’s gear in one corner.

“It really had seemed the answer to the Wilsons’ problem,” Izzie moaned as she sat down beside her on the long sofa. “I hope I’m not going to get into trouble for it.”

“Rubbish!” Mollie handed her a mug of coffee and plumped down in the next seat. “You were only trying to be kind. It’s his own fault. He should have let them know he was coming today.

“Pity you had to move out of your place.” Her Australian accent sounded stronger than ever when she was indignant.

Izzie felt a lump rising in her throat at their kindness, but swallowed it down as she raised the steaming mug to her lips. It was heartening to have friends again. She had gone through a difficult situation back in Durham and had felt isolated for a long time.

Becky joined them.

“These old archaeologists are a tough bunch. He could have bunked in his car, or with the other guy.”

“Oh, he’s not old. Maybe even quite fit, actually.” Izzie caught herself. Where had that come from?

She was still getting over a spectacularly bad break-up. But Izzie couldn’t deny that, despite their altercation, she had noticed Ross McCrinan’s fair good looks – and his very attractive Scots accent.

“That student Sophie talks about him non-stop,” she added quickly. “She mentions him every time I see her.”

Mollie grinned.

“It’s clear she idolises him – I can’t wait to meet the guy, he must be really hot!”

“But very grumpy and rude,” Izzie grumbled. “I wouldn’t be sorry if I never saw him again.”

The thought of him in her little flat made her feel odd. She hoped her painting wouldn’t get in his way. The canvas hadn’t been cheap, and the painting was going well. Hopefully it would be all right for a few days.

Next day the Australian girls were working, so Izzie was able to get on with some editing work, which was in danger of falling behind.

She set up her laptop at the kitchen table, which looked over the car park and the tree-lined driveway beyond, which was normally soothing when she was working.

Today there were cars coming and going every few minutes, which was distracting. But when a big police 4x4 vehicle trundled into a parking space, she could concentrate no longer.

Quickly saving her work, she sidled over to the window to watch furtively. A male police officer with cap and high-vis jacket climbed out, accompanied by a woman officer in a similar uniform.

As they crossed the car park, a tall man strode across to meet them, his hand outstretched. The springy fair hair was a giveaway – it was Ross McCrinan. Izzy found that her heart gave a lurch. Quickly she shook herself. Good looks meant nothing if someone was totally unpleasant.

After a few minutes, a young woman joined them. The turquoise plaits identified her as McCrinan’s adoring student, Sophie. Then the police officers returned to their vehicle, while Sophie and Ross headed towards a Land Rover parked by the wall.

As he climbed into the driving seat, Izzie couldn’t help noticing that he moved with the ease of an athlete. They drove off, the police officers following on their tail.

All became quiet after that, and Izzie was finally able to concentrate on her work.

That evening, when her flatmates arrived home, they were bursting with news even before Izzie could ask them about the police visit.

“There’s been some unauthorised disturbance on the site – Ailsa told us when she came in today.” Mollie’s eyes were wide, as she was clearly enjoying passing on this scandalous news. “The police were interrogating everyone working on the dig.”

Becky joined in.

“That’s sixteen students, and the fit young prof, two paid archaeologists as well as several volunteers from the island. There are also a couple of men who help with the heavy machinery.”

Izzie gasped.

“I’d no idea there were so many people working there. It must be a big project.”

“Apparently it’s quite prestigious. Alec Jackson told us they believe it could be a Viking longship burial. It’s causing great excitement, even though he said there’s not a lot left now. They’re removing the ground layer by layer, being very thorough.”

“So what’s the machinery for?”

“Digging some trenches in the locality.” Becky bit into an apple with a juicy crunch.

“Ailsa said they found a rogue hole in the side of the mound, which suggests that it’s been robbed. It must be recent, or else they wouldn’t have brought in the police.

“Maybe it’s a treasure hoard – gold and silver.” Mollie began taking out a couple of pans from the cupboard. “Izzie, could you get the pasta and that jar of sauce from the cupboard?”

As the three of them began making supper, they discussed this development.

“Are they going to question us too?” Izzie had never had any dealings with the police before and was curious.

“Don’t think so. Ailsa said that the police had asked her to pass on the instruction that we’re to let them know if we’ve seen anything suspicious.”

Izzie frowned.

“But we’ve been nowhere near the site.”

The Australian girls agreed.

“But it’s exciting, isn’t it?”

* * *

Over the next few days there was no further news about the crime. On the Saturday, Benjamin Wilson handed in the key to the Maris Cottage, saying that they had thoroughly enjoyed their stay, and hoped to return some day.

After their departure, Izzie and Becky prepared the place for Ross McCrinan’s occupancy. Izzie had to see to several more flats and another cottage, so it was late afternoon before she returned to the estate office.

Ailsa smiled at her, and handed her the key to her flat.

“There you are – you can move back into your own space.”

Relieved that her boss was so laid back about the incident, Izzie thanked her.

“I’m so sorry for this. I didn’t mean to cause any disruption.”

The older woman shrugged.

“No harm done – although it must have been a bit cramped for the three of you in that flat.”

When Izzie woke next day and opened her bedroom window, she realised it was one of those balmy west of Scotland May days that she had heard about.

A bubble of excitement welled in her. No work today – she’d take the whole day off and devote it to her painting. But first, a swim in her secret cove!

She pulled on her joggers and a warm fleece over the top of her swimming costume. Even though it didn’t feel too cold outside, her body temperature would go down while in the sea, and she needed to warm up quickly when she exited the water.