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  ‘Steady, miss! I think you’re forgetting something.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘We’re in Dumfries and Galloway,’ said Duncan, ‘not Ayrshire! We’ll have to put in a request for D&G to pick him up.’

  ‘Oh, for God’s sake!’ said West as she thumped the wheel. ‘We don’t have time for that!’

  ‘We’ve not much choice.’

  ‘Then you’d better give them a bell,’ said West, ‘and while you do that, I’m going to use my phone-a-friend.’

  Chapter 12

  Aware that DS Dougal McCrae, the walking epitome of diligence personified, had little in his life apart from the lure of brown trout to keep him from his desk, both West and Duncan were nonetheless surprised to find him alone in the office poring over a print-out with a gleeful expression on his face.

  ‘Blimey, you still here?’ said West. ‘I thought you’d be ordering your chicken chop suey by now.’

  ‘No, no. I’m waiting on Kay, miss. She said she’d call as soon as the first results came in.’

  ‘You make it sound like Eurovision,’ said West. ‘What are you looking so happy about, anyway?’

  Dougal leaned back in his seat and grinned as he waved a sheet of A4 in the air.

  ‘I’ve had an update from the Icelandic embassy,’ he said. ‘This is from the police in Hvolsvöllur.’

  ‘If you say so.’

  ‘Aron Jónsson’s been under surveillance for almost a year.’

  ‘How so?’ said Duncan. ‘Has he got form?’

  ‘No, and that’s precisely why they’ve been watching him. He’s well known to the authorities but they’ve nothing on him, he’s not got a single conviction.’

  ‘Get to the point, pal. What are they after him for?’

  ‘Cocaine,’ said Dougal, ‘the supply, thereof. They know he’s dealing but he’s clever, he leaves enough false trails to drive a bloodhound to distraction. Apparently, they’ve raided his home four times this year and found nothing, and get this, they even tried to collar him at work.’

  ‘I’m surprised he didn’t do them for harassment,’ said West. ‘So, what did he do, then? Work-wise, I mean.’

  ‘You’ll like this,’ said Dougal, ‘he was a trawlerman. Guess where.’

  ‘Well, Iceland, obviously.’

  ‘On board the Loki, miss.’

  West slumped in her seat, swung her feet onto the desk, and stared at Dougal as she waited for the penny to drop.

  ‘Give me a minute,’ she said, ‘I know the name but I can’t place it.’

  ‘The stern trawler!’ said Dougal. ‘Remember? St Kilda?’

  ‘Well, blow me down! So, you were right all along!’

  ‘No, no,’ said Dougal. ‘I made an assumption based on the evidence to hand and concluded that there was simply a likelihood that the Thistledonia went to meet the Loki. I never said for sure.’

  ‘You know what they say about the meek inheriting the earth?’

  ‘Aye?’

  ‘You’re one of them.’

  ‘So,’ said Duncan, ‘if we put all this together, then what we’re saying is that the Boyds headed up to St Kilda for no other reason than to meet Jónsson?’

  ‘It certainly seems that way, aye.’

  ‘Okay,’ said West, ‘slow down, it’s late, I’m tired, and without a Balvenie to prop me up, the old grey matter’s fading fast. So, Jónsson’s on the Loki and his role as a trawlerman is just a front, right?’

  ‘Correct.’

  ‘And just to be straight, Jónsson was carrying a shipment of coke and the Boyds went to meet him, and they all came back together?’

  ‘Well, if there’s another reasonable explanation,’ said Dougal, ‘I’m afraid it’s not one I’m familiar with.’

  West buried her face in her hands and sighed before checking her watch.

  ‘Alright,’ she said, wearily, ‘let’s pick this apart. If Jack and Henry Boyd were there to collect the merchandise, then why did Jónsson sail back with them? I mean, why not just hand it over?’

  ‘Well, if it was a sizeable amount,’ said Duncan, ‘then there’s always the possibility that he wanted to be sure it reached its final destination.’

  ‘Which brings me to my next question,’ said West. ‘Who was he flogging it to? I mean, what was the final destination?’

  ‘Don’t ask me,’ said Duncan, ‘my head’s mince, but I will say this, Jack Boyd’s the monkey here, there’s an organ grinder behind this operation and that’s the fella we need to find.’

  ‘And Jack Boyd,’ said West, ‘is the only one who knows who that is. We need to have another word.’

  ‘Good luck with that, miss. He’s not saying anything just now. Maybe we should wait for a result on his gear from FS.’

  ‘Okay,’ said West. ‘Agreed. If we get something positive, then maybe a charge of murder will loosen his tongue. Right, I say it’s time we shoved off. Duncan, get going, you’ve earned yourself a pint.’

  ‘Roger that, miss.’

  ‘Dougal?’

  ‘I’m stopping here. I don’t want to miss Kay when she calls.’

  ‘Well, give me a bell as soon as you hear anything, good or bad, and I will see you in the…’

  Whilst the occasional clamour of footsteps clumping along the corridor was to be expected, and the murmur of muffled voices a regular occurrence, the baritone bark of something resembling the Hound of the Baskervilles was unusual enough to make Dougal raise his feet from the floor and recoil in terror as the door inched its way open to reveal a small, Scottish terrier pursued by a chipper-looking Munro.

  ‘Good to see you, chief!’ said Duncan. ‘You’re looking well!’

  ‘Likewise, laddie,’ said Munro as he shook his hand. ‘I see you’re burning the midnight oil again, Charlie.’

  ‘What the hell are you doing here?’

  ‘Well, with all the rustling of the leaves on the trees I was convinced there was a storm brewing but as there are no leaves in my neck of the woods I realised the racket was probably down to a collective scratching of heads.’

  ‘Nothing wrong with your hearing, then.’

  ‘Nor your inimitable knack of making a visitor feel at home.’

  ‘Sorry, Jimbo,’ said West, smiling apologetically, ‘it’s been one of those days, been being the operative word. We’re shoving off.’

  ‘I see my sense of timing is as impeccable as ever.’

  ‘Hold up, you’re not driving all the way back to Carsethorn, now, are you?’

  ‘I should hope not, I’ve only just arrived.’

  ‘Good,’ said West, as she zipped her coat, ‘then you and Murdo can crash at mine. I’ve been trying to get hold of you anyway.’

  ‘How so?’

  ‘I’ll explain on the way, but first we need to collect your mate Angus from Aberdeen and a decent bottle of red.’

  * * *

  Mindful of the fact that any negative comments on the subject of West’s slatternly housekeeping skills would result in a defensive diatribe on the perils of being a time-strapped professional living alone, Munro, ignoring the piles of clothes strewn along the hallway and the crusty dishes cluttering the sink, opened the patio doors in a bid to clear the smoke emanating from the frying pan, uncorked the wine, and took a seat at the table while Murdo, more interested in the burnt offering on his master’s plate than his own chewy treat, sat salivating by his side.

  ‘So, seriously,’ said West, crunching through a forkful of French fries, ‘why did you come all the way up here? You can’t be bored, not with Murdo.’

  ‘I’m nothing of the sort, Charlie. I had a wee errand to run, that’s all.’

  ‘Top secret, is it?’

  ‘If you must know, I had to visit the pet superstore on Alloway Street where I procured a winter coat for my wee companion in a rather fetching Royal Stewart tartan.’

  ‘Oh, come off it!’ said West. ‘You’re not fooling me, Jimbo. Are you trying to tell me there isn’t a pet shop in Dumfr
ies?’

  ‘Och, I dare there is, lassie, but where, I’ll never know.’

  ‘Just look it up on the internet!’

  ‘You forget,’ said Munro, ‘I do not possess a computer, nor do I have any desire to own such a device and in the absence of what we used to call the telephone book, it’s simply easier to go somewhere I’m familiar with.’

  ‘Alright, I’ll let you off,’ said West, ‘but are you sure that’s the only reason?’

  ‘Correct me if I’m wrong,’ said Munro, ‘but was it not you that was trying to get a hold of me?’

  ‘Guilty as charged.’

  ‘So, what’s the story?’

  ‘Same old,’ said West. ‘I just needed to bounce things round a bit.’

  ‘Well, that’s why you have Dougal and Duncan.’

  ‘I know, I know. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not knocking them, they’re diamonds, but it’s experience they’re lacking.’

  ‘Not unlike yourself, lassie.’

  ‘Exactly. And I’m not ashamed to admit it.’

  ‘And you dinnae mind discussing the case with a codger like myself?’

  ‘You’re nothing of the sort,’ said West, ‘and might I remind you, you’re still employed, if that’s the right word, as a volunteer so if I need some objective, rational advice, who better to ask?’

  ‘Not a politician,’ said Munro, ‘but I could think of a few folk who’d be willing to listen.’

  ‘Yeah, but which one of them would have anything and everything as their specialist subject on Mastermind?’

  ‘Carry on like that,’ said Munro, draining his glass, ‘and I shall have to buy a bigger hat. Right, let’s have it, Charlie; to the point, mind, no havering.’

  ‘Okay, in a nutshell, the dead bloke on the boat?’

  ‘Aye?’

  ‘He’s from Iceland. He’s a drug dealer. And we think he was on the boat to make sure his merchandise was delivered safely.’

  Munro topped up the wine, took a large sip, and gazed pensively at the cobwebs hanging from the light fitting.

  ‘Perhaps,’ he said, ‘but there could be another reason.’

  ‘I’m all ears,’ said West. ‘Come on, let’s have it.’

  ‘I cannae recall a transaction of this sort ever being settled with a cheque or a bank transfer, so perhaps he was guarding his property until he was paid in full.’

  ‘Now that,’ said West, raising her glass, ‘is exactly what I’m talking about. Cheers, Jimbo. Now, see if you can answer this one.’

  ‘On you go.’

  ‘When McLeod had him on the slab, he found a couple of pellets in his guts, or what was left of them – balloons actually. Each one was stuffed with about half a grand’s worth of coke.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘Well,’ said West, ‘we reckon the two blokes who chartered the boat, Jack and Henry Boyd, knew he’d swallowed it and wanted it back, presumably so they didn’t get it in the neck from whoever they were meant to be delivering it to.’

  ‘Sounds logical,’ said Munro, ‘so what’s your problem?’

  ‘Flipping heck, Jimbo! I thought you’d be ahead of me by now! The problem is, why the hell would this geezer swallow his own merchandise?’

  Munro slipped Murdo the tiniest slither of burnt steak and smiled as it disappeared, hardly touching the sides.

  ‘Sometimes, Charlie,’ he said, pushing his plate to one side, ‘it’s better to take things at face value rather than over-analyse them.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘It sounds to me as if this fellow on the boat was guilty of nothing more than executing a familiar ploy popular amongst the good, the bad, and the greedy, otherwise known as fleecing the customer, short-changing them, ripping them off. Two thousand pounds’ worth of cocaine in his belly is an extra two thousand pounds in the bank, once he’s sold it on to somebody else.’

  ‘Yeah but why?’ said West. ‘I mean, he’s probably got tons of the stuff.’

  ‘Aye, he probably has. All weighed out and packaged into wee parcels. Not that easy to pull out of your pocket if some junkie on the harbour wants a wee shot.’

  ‘You think so?’

  ‘It’s a theory, Charlie. And based on my knowledge of how these folk operate, I’d say it was a reliable one at that.’

  West went to the fridge, removed two individual sticky toffee puddings and popped them into the microwave before returning to the table.

  ‘Alright,’ she said, ‘but assuming what he swallowed was just a tiny fraction of the entire shipment, is it really worth killing someone to get it back?’

  ‘You’re talking about the Boyds, of course?’

  ‘Yup.’

  ‘Then put yourself in their shoes,’ said Munro. ‘If they were acting as couriers, how do you think their boss would react if he discovered part of his shipment was missing?’

  ‘Well, if they’d been doing this on a regular basis, then I reckon he’d probably have a hissy fit, give them a slap on the wrist, and send them home.’

  ‘Wrong. If they’d been doing this on a regular basis, then the chances are that their boss would conclude that they’d been ripping him off on a regular basis, too. Trust me, lassie, those two boys were probably fearing for the use of their legs, so in order to avoid a future on wheels, they retrieved it the only way they knew how.’

  West pursed her lips as she pondered the scenario.

  ‘You’re not convinced, are you?’ said Munro.

  ‘Yes and no,’ said West. ‘I get what you’re saying, Jimbo, but what I cannot get my head around is why they had to butcher the poor bloke? I mean, why not just bosh him over the head and wait for nature to take its course?’

  ‘Circumstances,’ said Munro. ‘You’re in the middle of the ocean, in the dead of the night, with a known drug dealer on your boat, and another waiting for you on the mainland. That is what I’d call being caught between a rock and a hard place.’

  ‘Maybe,’ said West, as the microwave pinged. ‘Maybe.’

  ‘And the Boyds, are you any nearer to securing a conviction?’

  ‘We’re waiting on forensics,’ said West. ‘If they don’t come up trumps, we’ve had it. They’ll end up walking away with a fine or maybe a custodial for scuppering the boat, but that’s about it. And as for the drugs, we haven’t the foggiest where they were going or who the buyer is.’

  ‘I can feel your pain, lassie, not least because that’s not the extent of your worries, is it?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Come, come, Charlie. You’d not be calling me for something like this. What’s the real point of this conversation?’

  West took a deep breath and cleared her throat.

  ‘The bloke who discovered the boat,’ she said, ‘Willy Baxter. His daughter’s gone missing. According to Dumfries and Galloway–’

  ‘Dumfries?’

  ‘She lives in Stranraer,’ said West, ‘not far from the hotel where she works. Anyway, they had a mooch around her flat and apart from the mail on the doormat, everything’s normal. The wardrobe’s full of clothes, and there’s even a coffee mug left on the kitchen counter.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘So according to Baxter and his missus, she said she’d lost the flat; she said she’d had to give it up but she was clearly intent on going back.’

  ‘Either that,’ said Munro, ‘or she left in a hurry.’

  ‘The thing is, she was tight with some geezer called Callum but we don’t know how close they were. Her parents claim he was the boyfriend but her workmates say she was single.’

  ‘Keep going.’

  ‘This Callum bloke,’ said West, ‘his second name’s McClusky.’

  Munro raised his head, narrowed his steely blue eyes, and glared across the table.

  ‘The same–?’

  ‘Yes! The same! Tam McClusky’s his father.’

  ‘You’re treading dangerous waters, lassie. Watch your back.’

  ‘I know, I know. That’s why
I was calling you.’

  ‘And McClusky junior, have you invited him in for a wee chat?’

  ‘We would if we could find him,’ said West. ‘The problem is, he’s in Kirkcudbright. We had to get back to D&G and ask them to pick him up but they haven’t got back to us yet. To be honest, I’ve got a horrible feeling he’s done a bunk.’

  ‘What makes you think that?’

  ‘Tam McClusky said Callum was ill in bed. He’d been in the infirmary overnight with a bad case of the flu.’

  ‘I’m not surprised,’ said Munro. ‘Folk dinnae realise just how debilitating flu can be.’

  ‘It wasn’t the flu,’ said West. ‘Duncan checked. He was in the infirmary alright, but he was in A&E. They treated him for multiple stab wounds.’

  ‘And what do you make of this, Charlie? About the Baxter girl going missing and this friendship with McClusky?’

  West glanced at Munro, took a sip of wine and shook her head.

  ‘Oh, here we go,’ she said, laughing. ‘Are you implying that this is all somehow connected? Come on, Jimbo, it’s a coincidence, that’s all.’

  Munro left the table, closed the patio doors, and stood staring at his reflection with his hands clasped behind his back.

  ‘Far be it for me to interfere with your investigation,’ he said, ‘but should you not be looking at the bigger picture?’

  ‘I’m not with you.’

  ‘Good grief, Charlie! You’re not that stupid! Think, lassie, think! See here, McClusky owns the boat that ran ashore, okay? The boat was carrying a shipment of drugs. And then the daughter of the fellow who discovered the boat goes missing. Not only is she involved with Callum McClusky, but then he’s treated for stab wounds in the hospital and you think this is all coincidence? No offence, Charlie, but you’re better than that! I suggest you get some rest, maybe then you’ll start thinking like the consummate professional I know you are!’

  ‘That’s me told.’

  Munro took his plastic pot of steaming hot dessert from the table and moved to the sofa where he was swiftly joined by his loyal, though some might say, excessively needy, companion.

  ‘Lecture over,’ he said. ‘You need to take your mind off matters so I suggest we change the subject.’