“That’s a point. Do we have any pictures?” Ben wondered. “If we had a photograph, we could maybe put out an appeal for information. See if anyone knows him. From before, I mean.”
PC Tanaka sucked in her bottom lip, then shook her head. “Not that I’ve ever seen, no. I could ask around, though, and see if anyone locally has one. Don’t think he was big on getting his photo taken, though. In case, I don’t know, goblins got hold of it, or whatever.”
“Aye, ask around, will you?” Hamza said. “It’d be useful if we could get something. None of the Polaroids in the caravan had his face in them. It was mostly just that MSP.”
“How would you describe him?” Ben asked the constable. “Bernie. If I asked you to describe him to me, what would you say?”
“Um, five-six, five-seven, white, aged between—”
“No. As a person, I mean. Not the specifics. What was your general impression of him?”
The question took Constable Tanaka aback. Her eyebrows rose halfway up her forehead as she stared ahead at the almost empty Big Board.
“I mean, my first instinct is to say, ‘A pain in the arse,’ but that’s probably not what you’re after.”
“It’s a start, but aye, I was hoping for something a bit more,” Ben replied.
“I suppose then… If I had to sum him up… I’d say he seemed troubled,” the constable replied.
“Troubled?”
“Aye. Like… I got the impression he wasn’t always the way he was. Like maybe something happened to make him that way. A breakdown, or something.” Her eyes became alive as she recalled a past encounter. “I remember this one time—not the first time I met him, but soon after—he was walking back from Lochaline. Think he’d been on Mull for a week or two. Anyway, I noticed he was wearing a wedding ring. I mentioned it. Said like, ‘Aye aye, Bernie. You got yourself hitched?’ and he… He just looked angry. Like, he was furious.”
“At you?” asked Ben.
“Not so much, no. At, I don’t know, at himself. Or the ring. Or something,” the constable clarified. “He just ripped it off and chucked it away. Just chucked it off into the trees and told me to mind my own business.
“Apparently, he spent weeks looking for it after that. I only heard later. No idea if he found it.”
“So, he could’ve been married at some point,” Hamza said, making a note of the new information.
“All the more reason to find a photo,” Tyler said. “Pump that out on the telly and in the papers, and we might get a hit on him.”
“Aye, I agree,” Ben said. His upper lip drew back in a sort of sneer of disgust. “But please, for both our sakes, never use the phrase ‘pump that out’ in my presence again.”
“I’ll do my best, boss,” Tyler chirped. “No promises, though.”
For a moment, it looked like Ben was about to issue a further warning, but instead, he shook his head and checked his watch. “Right, I’ve got a call with Shona Maguire about the PM shortly.” He looked around at the other officers. “Anyone else have anything they want to ask or add?”
Hamza raised the rubber end of his pencil as if calling for the teacher’s attention. “Just… The Beacon. The newsletter thing he did. Are there any copies still circulating, do you know?”
Try as she might, PC Tanaka couldn’t hold back her smile. “Oh, bound to be. We’ll have some. It was always a big hit. A lot of people hung onto them.” She clicked her fingers. “In fact, Gary at the pub has the full set.”
“What pub?” Ben and Tyler asked, both perking up upon hearing the word.
“At the hotel.” She took in their blank expressions. “Didn’t you… Did you not stay at the hotel last night? The Strontian Hotel?”
“We were in a couple of B&Bs,” Hamza told her. “We heard the hotel was shut.”
Suzi tapped herself on the side of the head. “Oh. Aye. Course. It’s getting redecorated or something. They timed it with the lighthouse being shut to visitors while it gets its renovations. Tourist numbers are down. Bar’s open, though. Gary who works there, he’s got the full set of Beacons. Proud of it, too, for some reason. I can go over and check with him when he opens up at lunchtime, if you like.”
Ben side-eyed the other detectives. “Well, no. No, you’ve got enough on your plate,” he said. “We’ll pop over ourselves.”