Кит Мори - Flotsam and Jetsam

He looked his best friend straight in the eye.

‘Would you care to make a statement to the Press, Inspector McKinnon?’

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.

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 edition.

‘This is what you wanted, isn’t it, Cora?’ he asked, as he tapped away on his laptop. ‘Real cutting-edge journalism. And what a follow up to last night’s story. The readers will love this.’

‘But aren’t you worried about upsetting Inspector McKinnon and the others?’

‘I am a responsible journalist, Cora. I am not in this for popularity. It is my responsibility to present the facts to the reading public.’

‘But are you serious about saying there was police negligence?’

Calum heaved a sigh and swivelled round in his chair. ‘There is nothing personal in this, Cora. Torquil will understand that.’

‘But he looked sort of – well – uncomfortable.’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘As if you were betraying him, sort of.’

‘Havers, lassie!’

‘And PC McPhee looked so upset.’

‘A man in police custody was set free and is found dead hours later, Cora. If they had kept him he would be alive now.’ He pushed his wire-frame spectacles further back on his nose. ‘Look, I want you to help. While I am writing this up and setting up the issue I want you to go and interview Sergeant Driscoll at the station. She was the duty sergeant last night. While you are there, you can also make enquiries about what progress they have made about the break-in at the offices here.’

‘Do I have to?’ Cora pleaded. ‘Surely they won’t have any news.’

‘Of course they won’t. But that’s not the point, is it?’

‘And the point is?’

‘To keep them on their toes and show them that the Chronicle means business. Now off you go, I have a phone call that I need to make.’ He winked at her as he reached for his mobile. ‘It will do no harm to let Scottish TV know that we’re on to a big story.’

The yellow camper-van turned off the coastal road and took the dirt track up to the row of derelict, crofters’ cottages. It swung round behind them so that it was unseen from the road.

‘Come on, Craig,’ said the driver, the leaner of the two. ‘The sooner we get the stuff stashed the better.’

Once outside Craig cursed. ‘Huh! I’m not so keen on this place, Tosh. It’s us that takes all the risks.’

‘Don’t start that again. We do what the boss tells us to do.’

‘The boss! I’m getting fed up with him too.’

The crunch of a foot on gravel made them both spin round, their eyes open in alarm. Craig’s hand darted inside his jacket to the heavy object that he kept hidden there.

‘So you are getting fed up with me, are you?’ a voice snapped.

‘Craig was just joking, boss,’ Tosh replied with an uncertain grin.

‘As if I give a toss! Just tell me. Did you do it, and did you make sure no one saw you?’

Craig and Tosh glanced nervously at each other then the one called Tosh nodded. ‘Aye, we did it all right.’

Neither of them fancied telling their boss about their encounter with PC McPhee.

Morag stared at Cora in dumbfounded amazement.

‘And Calum Steele told you to ask me that? Just how long have you been his assistant?’

Cora squirmed. ‘Er – since yesterday, Sergeant Driscoll.’

‘Since yesterday?’

Cora felt flustered and nodded apologetically.

‘Then I suggest that you should tell the editor of the West Uist Chronicle to do his own dirty work. If he wants a statement from the West Uist Division of the Hebridean Constabulary, he should go about it through the proper channels, instead of sending his new assistant.’

Cora bit her lip. ‘And – er – what are the proper channels, Sergeant?’

Morag smiled humourlessly. ‘He should make a formal request in person to the officer on duty – me!’

Cora was already backing towards the door. ‘I will tell him that, Sergeant Driscoll.’

She was about to reach for the door when she remembered the other task that he had given her. ‘Oops! Sorry! There was something else I need to ask you.’

‘Ask away then.’

‘Have you – er – any news on your investigation into the break-in at the Chronicle offices?’

Two pinpricks of colour appeared on Morag’s cheeks and started to expand as her eyes grew wider.

Cora instinctively tensed her neck muscles, expecting a torrent of ire. But inexplicably, Morag’s expression suddenly softened and she smiled.

‘Nothing yet, Miss Melville, but I will be happy to update Mr Steele when he comes to see me.’

‘Ah … thanks, I….’ Cora began. But the door suddenly shot open and knocked her in the back, propelling her forward.

‘Oh good grief!’ called Wallace Drummond, entering and shooting a hand out to catch the stumbling Cora before she pitched on to her face. ‘So sorry, miss. I was in such a hurry. I haven’t hurt you, I hope?’

Cora recovered her balance and turned to find herself looking up at the smiling face of Wallace Drummond, with an identical face appearing a second later to grin over his shoulder.