My Bones Will Keep

They lunched in Strathpeffer and then drove through Freagair and so to Coinneamh Lodge, where Mrs Grant, previously apprised by telephone of their coming, was expecting them.

‘Better weather than when I was last here,’ remarked Laura, when the greetings and welcome were over and Mrs Grant had settled them in armchairs before a peat fire. Their hostess drew up a chair for herself.

‘Kirsty will soon infuse the tea,’ she said. ‘I waited on you for my after-lunch cup. Och, ay, the weather’s fine. I wish other things were as good.’

‘We heard that the police had been bothering round,’ said Laura. ‘Did they come here?’

‘I’ll tell you about it when Kirsty – ah, here she is. Thank you, Kirsty.’

Kirsty smiled shyly at the visitors, set the tray down and went out again.

‘I see you’ve got some help in the house now,’ said Laura. ‘Is it permanent?’

‘As soon as it was known that Cu Dubh was killed, Kirsty’s mother came to see me. It is the only good thing that has come out of the business.’ She poured out the tea and handed cups. ‘I will tell you. Maybe’ – she looked at Dame Beatrice – ‘you can think and tell me what I should do. You see, the police believe my man knows who did it and is holding out on them. I’m so worried I don’t know which way to turn. I’m not very sure that they don’t suspect my man himself.’

‘Why should they do that?’ asked Dame Beatrice.

‘He will not tell them where he was, or what he was up to, that night and early morning.’

‘Has he told you?’

‘He has not, then. All I ken is that he went to Inverness and was to go on to Edinburgh next day. I never speir at him what his business is, because I would not understand it if he told me.’

‘His business would have to do with the hydro-electric project, no doubt?’

‘Ay, it would be just that.’

‘I don’t see any connection with Inverness, though,’ said Laura. ‘Does he often go there?’

‘Now and again, from Easter until the first snowfall. During the winter and early spring, not at all.’

‘How long is he away from home?’ asked Dame Beatrice.

‘From the Friday, when he leaves work, until the Sunday night.’

‘Always?’

‘Always, except for his three weeks’ holiday in September, and even then he’s in a fever. “I wonder how they’re getting on without me?” he’ll say. I tell him not to fash himself, but he fidgets and fadgets until we’re home.’

‘Inverness? And Edinburgh?’ said Dame Beatrice thoughtfully. ‘Interesting. Do you think your husband would talk to me?’

‘How I wish he would! Mrs Gavin here was telling me of some of your cases. I’m in fear of what may happen if he goes on refusing to give the police any information. If he would give them just one name of a body that would swear he was in Inverness that night, it would do, I think, but he’ll not do even as little as that.’

‘Why do you suppose he is being so secretive?’ asked Dame Beatrice, with unusual bluntness. Mrs Grant’s troubled eyes met hers.

‘I have no idea,’ she said, ‘but I trust him absolutely. It’s not a woman; I’m certain of that.’

Kirsty came in.

‘I beg your pardon,’ she said, ‘but the wee chridhe is greeting. I think it is necessary to you going.’

‘Excuse me,’ said the wee chridhe’s mother. She and the girl went out.

‘Sounds like a love-nest to me, whatever she believes,’ said Laura. ‘She may trust him absolutely, but I don’t think I would.’

‘It is much too early to judge him,’ said Dame Beatrice. ‘I wonder at what time he gets home this evening? Incidentally, it would have been on a Friday that you met him at Tigh-Osda station, then?’

‘Yes, and he’d taken a day’s holiday, if you remember.’

‘One would think he might have foregone his business in Inverness for that one weekend, then.’

‘Yes. It can’t be much fun for Mrs Grant being left with nobody but the baby for company from Friday night until Sunday night, however seldom it happens,’

‘No, indeed. I wonder whether he always goes by train? They have a car, you say.’

‘An estate wagon, yes.’

Mrs Grant came back, carrying the baby. Dame Beatrice put the question to her.

‘Och, ay, he always takes the train,’ she replied. ‘You see, it’s a single-track road from here to a mile or so this side of Freagair and he says he has enough of single-track driving to his work and back. The train is quicker. Besides, in a place like this, I’d be lost if I suddenly needed transport, and none was available, would I not?’

‘Yes, of course.’ Laura hesitated and glanced at Dame Beatrice, raising her eyebrows. Dame Beatrice nodded. Laura went on: ‘Please don’t be offended at what I’m going to ask you, Mrs Grant. I’m bound to sound blunt, I’m afraid, but I think it’s fair to be.’

Mrs Grant’s eyes very slightly narrowed.