full of journalistic guile having fancied himself as an investigative reporter since his schooldays. Despite his portly frame, when he sensed that a story demanded it, he could move with the stealth of a cat. And when he was in his investigative journalist mode, loyalty and friendship came second best to the prospect of a scoop.
‘Just answering a tip-off, Inspector McKinnon,’ Calum replied, immediately moving to a professional footing. ‘So, as I understand it, you have found Dr Digby Dent dead on the moor, seemingly having fallen and bashed his head, although there is a question as to whether he had been bludgeoned with a Highland hammer.’
Ralph scowled at Calum. ‘If you have been eavesdropping for long, Calum Steele, then you will have heard me say he was not hit by Ewan’s hammer.’
Calum shrugged as he handed the camera to his pale-faced assistant. He jotted a couple of words in his notebook. ‘OK, so then he may or may not have drowned after falling and bumping his head, but as I see it there is a crucial question that has yet to be answered.’
Torquil eyed his friend suspiciously. ‘And what question is that, Mr Steele?’
‘Upon what basis did the West Uist Police deem that is was safe to release him from custody? You see, from where I am standing it seems certain that if he had been kept in custody hewould still be alive right now.‘He drew a line under his last note. Some folk might use the N word for that. Negligence, I mean.’
He looked his best friend straight in the eye.
‘Would you care to make a statement to the Press, Inspector McKinnon?’
VI
Wallace and Douglas had been out in their old fishing boat, earning their living by catching herrings, just as their father and his father had done before them. They were returning with a good catch and appropriately high spirits.
‘Look to starboard,’ Wallace called above the engine noise. ‘It looks like old Guthrie Lovat is out in his Sea Beastie.’
‘Aye! We haven’t seen him about these waters for a while.’
Wallace gave a blast on the boat’s horn and they both waved.
The Sea Beastie had at one time been a common sight about the island until Guthrie had become famous. At least, that was how many of the locals described his change to become a recluse.
Guthrie Lovat stepped out of his cabin, his luxuriant beard catching the wind. He screwed up his eyes and, with a hand over them to shield them from the sun, he peered back at the Drummond twins. Then, recognizing them he waved back.
‘How is the beachombing going?’ Wallace called across.
‘Pretty fair,’ Guthrie called back. ‘But it could be better!’ He lifted his left arm and gestured to his wrist, as if pointing at his watch. ‘Can’t stop though. I need to get out to the Cruadalach Isles.’ He waved again then went back into his cabin. There was a roar and the Sea Beastie accelerated away.
The twins waved after him.
‘A man of few words, eh?’ Wallace remarked.
‘Aye, a surly bugger and no mistaking. Maybe he’s on a par with that Dr Dent fellow.’ Douglas grinned.
The brothers laughed, for they had found the whole Flotsam & Jetsam débâcle utterly hilarious.
Wallace adjusted their course and they headed in the direction of Kylshiffin harbour.
‘It is a funny thing, Wallace, but shouldn’t our esteemed PC Ewan McPhee be out and about in the Seaspray by now?’ Douglas remarked.
Wallace guffawed. ‘Aye, he should. But the big galoot might have slept in again.’
‘Or maybe he lost his hammer up on the moor again?’
‘I can just imagine him up there now, getting bitten to death by the midges.’
At this they dissolved into another fit of mirth.
VII
Cora was not sure how she felt. She had never seen a dead body before and although she had not fainted up on the moor she had found the whole encounter most embarrassing. They had returned to the Chronicle offices where Calum had immediately set about preparing for yet another special
‘Just answering a tip-off, Inspector McKinnon,’ Calum replied, immediately moving to a professional footing. ‘So, as I understand it, you have found Dr Digby Dent dead on the moor, seemingly having fallen and bashed his head, although there is a question as to whether he had been bludgeoned with a Highland hammer.’
Ralph scowled at Calum. ‘If you have been eavesdropping for long, Calum Steele, then you will have heard me say he was not hit by Ewan’s hammer.’
Calum shrugged as he handed the camera to his pale-faced assistant. He jotted a couple of words in his notebook. ‘OK, so then he may or may not have drowned after falling and bumping his head, but as I see it there is a crucial question that has yet to be answered.’
Torquil eyed his friend suspiciously. ‘And what question is that, Mr Steele?’
‘Upon what basis did the West Uist Police deem that is was safe to release him from custody? You see, from where I am standing it seems certain that if he had been kept in custody hewould still be alive right now.‘He drew a line under his last note. Some folk might use the N word for that. Negligence, I mean.’
He looked his best friend straight in the eye.
‘Would you care to make a statement to the Press, Inspector McKinnon?’
VI
Wallace and Douglas had been out in their old fishing boat, earning their living by catching herrings, just as their father and his father had done before them. They were returning with a good catch and appropriately high spirits.
‘Look to starboard,’ Wallace called above the engine noise. ‘It looks like old Guthrie Lovat is out in his Sea Beastie.’
‘Aye! We haven’t seen him about these waters for a while.’
Wallace gave a blast on the boat’s horn and they both waved.
The Sea Beastie had at one time been a common sight about the island until Guthrie had become famous. At least, that was how many of the locals described his change to become a recluse.
Guthrie Lovat stepped out of his cabin, his luxuriant beard catching the wind. He screwed up his eyes and, with a hand over them to shield them from the sun, he peered back at the Drummond twins. Then, recognizing them he waved back.
‘How is the beachombing going?’ Wallace called across.
‘Pretty fair,’ Guthrie called back. ‘But it could be better!’ He lifted his left arm and gestured to his wrist, as if pointing at his watch. ‘Can’t stop though. I need to get out to the Cruadalach Isles.’ He waved again then went back into his cabin. There was a roar and the Sea Beastie accelerated away.
The twins waved after him.
‘A man of few words, eh?’ Wallace remarked.
‘Aye, a surly bugger and no mistaking. Maybe he’s on a par with that Dr Dent fellow.’ Douglas grinned.
The brothers laughed, for they had found the whole Flotsam & Jetsam débâcle utterly hilarious.
Wallace adjusted their course and they headed in the direction of Kylshiffin harbour.
‘It is a funny thing, Wallace, but shouldn’t our esteemed PC Ewan McPhee be out and about in the Seaspray by now?’ Douglas remarked.
Wallace guffawed. ‘Aye, he should. But the big galoot might have slept in again.’
‘Or maybe he lost his hammer up on the moor again?’
‘I can just imagine him up there now, getting bitten to death by the midges.’
At this they dissolved into another fit of mirth.
VII
Cora was not sure how she felt. She had never seen a dead body before and although she had not fainted up on the moor she had found the whole encounter most embarrassing. They had returned to the Chronicle offices where Calum had immediately set about preparing for yet another special
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