A Deviant Breed by Stephen Coill

he paused for thought for a moment. ‘Illegitimate, you see.  His young, pretty and precocious mother was the talk of the village when I arrived.’
    ‘What was she like?’
    Farish hesitated but only briefly. ‘She’d skedaddled before I came on the scene, never to return.’  He leaned forward in his seat conspiratorially and lowered his voice.  ‘According to gossip, his father was either an Irish tinker who plied his trade on the black top or a travelling salesman. But – it pays not to take heed of tittle-tattle, in my experience.’
    ‘Black top?’ She queried, as she scribbled notes furiously.
    ‘Resurfacing roads,’ he explained, then hesitated again while she wrote it down.  ‘But it was no Cathy and Heathcliff romance if so – ach no, a scandalous tryst at the time I gather, all rather sordid and the outcome quite predictable.’
    She looked up. ‘Sorry about this, I have to –’
    ‘I imagine so, Inspector.’ He waited for her to stop writing before continuing. ‘Now her parents would have everyone believe she fell pregnant to a rakish farm supplies salesman who then did the dirty on their innocent daughter, and that it was he who turned her pretty head and stole her away leaving them to raise wee Archie.  But!   She was no innocent – jail bait by all accounts. That tinker was wise to run.  Jail is where he’d have gone.  Aye – the dirty was done, nae question about that, but by whom remains a great mystery.’ Farish paused again to allow Tyler time to get it all down.
    She nodded her appreciation.
    ‘Archie was raised by his grandma, her own wee Pinocchio, her toy child who she tried to breath normal life into but, just like Geppetto, she couldn’t.  Being considered something of a simpleton on account of the difficulties we’ve just discussed, Archie was slow in school and bullied on account of his mammy.  However, there was something endearing about his absence of awareness.’  Farish glazed over for a moment. ‘Aye, a wee cherub of a boy he was, with a melancholic smile even when he was happy.  I felt sorry for him – for them all – and so offered to tutor him in my spare time in return for room and board.’
    ‘You lived with them?’
    ‘Aye, I was new to the primary school and to the area, and what with his mother gone – they had a room going spare.  It was an arrangement that suited all – especially wee Archie.  He hated school – we became very close.  His grandma was quite jealous.’
    ‘So English isn’t really his – ?’
    ‘Nobody knows his father’s name and Archie doesn’t want to know,’ Farish cut in anticipating the next question.  ‘Prefers the delusion he’s born of ancestors who were once feared and mighty clansmen hereabouts and on the Humes side, great lairds too but granny’s ancestors’ fortune was lost a long time ago – twice in fact!  Aye, one of them invested in that disastrous Darien Scheme of the late sixteenth – early seventeenth centuries.’
    ‘Panama?’ Tyler interrupted, still writing it all down.
    He nodded. ‘Aye, according to Archie, so it’ll be reet!  It also supports his theory as to why the Humes clan became so greedy for Morag’s land.  Then, having not learned their lesson, another of their line went belly-up in what was probably the first ever international financial crisis in eighteen seventy-three.’ Farish chortled again and shook his head. ‘Had misfortune not visited them, who knows – Archie might well have inherited land and titles.’ Farish coughed violently, almost choked but recovered himself.  ‘Excuse me, my lungs are nearly as useless as my legs.  How wee Archie would have revelled in that role.’
    ***
    When pressed, Eugene reluctantly speculated on a few months max for the length of time the man’s head had been buried but would go no further.  For anything more definitive Dunbar would have to wait for the results of the forensic pathologist’s findings.  Two unlucky