My Bones Will Keep

‘Not surprising, I suppose,’ said Laura, who did not believe a word of it either. ‘Well, if this is Loch na Greine and that’s Tannasgan, we might as well drive you home.’

‘Which is your own way?’

‘Oh, we shall go back to Crioch. Our plans were uncertain,’ said Dame Beatrice with deliberate vagueness.

‘Drop me there, if you please. I have business to see to in Garadh. I can get a lift from people I know in Crioch.’

‘He wanted to know where we were staying, I think,’ said Laura, when they had parted from him at double gates which opened on to a gravel slope leading up to the terrace of the hotel. ‘What did you make of his kidnapping tale?’

‘Enough to feel inclined to go to Inverness tomorrow. I wonder whether he has told the police of his experiences?’

‘His alleged experiences. It remains to be discovered what he actually did do after I left him at the station that first wet night. I suppose he did go to Inverness? If you ask me, he’s a pretty fishy customer and I don’t like him very much, at that. Did you notice that he referred to the hydro-electric works again, as though he really has got a job there, whereas we jolly well know he hasn’t?’

‘Yes, I did notice it. Very significant, child.’

‘Can we believe that the island we showed him is Tannasgan?’

‘No, but we can purchase a map in Inverness.’

‘Have to be one of those six-inch things, then, to show anything so small. That is, they’ll show it but will they name it? I don’t know about roses by any other name, but islands are a different matter, and the motoring maps don’t show Tannasgan at all. They don’t even show Loch na Greine, because I’ve looked. And I’ll tell you what,’ added Laura. I’m beginning to think that there may have been more people on Tannasgan, the first time I was there, than we wot of.’

Chapter 12

Discoveries and Theories

‘My virtue, wit, and heaven-help’d counsels set

Their freedoms open.’

George Chapman

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IN Inverness, two days later (for they did not leave Crioch until the late afternoon, which left no time except for dinner when they arrived in the capital of the Highlands), Dame Beatrice and Laura began their search for the guest-house in which Grant claimed to have been held prisoner. His story, on the face of it, was farcical, but, as Laura pointed out, if he had not been held by the three men, he must have been engaged in some activity of which his wife (presumably) knew nothing.

Laura had formed her own opinion of Mrs Grant, however, and observed darkly to Dame Beatrice that she jolly well betted that, if Grant had been up to n.b.g., then Mrs Grant knew all about it.

‘As I sum her up,’ she added, ‘she isn’t the woman to have the wool pulled over her eyes. She was clever enough with her smooth words when she had borrowed my car without leave. She’s as deep as Loch Ness, if you ask me.’

‘Well, now,’ said Dame Beatrice, as they crossed one of the suspension bridges which linked the islands of the River Ness, ‘after this pleasant constitutional (which it was a very good idea of yours that we should take), where do you suggest that we begin work?’

‘You first,’ said Laura. ‘I bet you’ve got a cut-and-dried plan.’

‘Well, I thought we might try working back from the railway station to Tomnahurich Street and then rely on rule-of-thumb, so to say.’

‘Fine! I can’t pretend it was just what I was going to suggest myself, because I hadn’t got further than exploring the possibilities of Ardross Street, into which he claimed that the car turned after the man had booted him out of it. Of course, I have to keep reminding myself that he may not have been speaking a word of truth all the way through. So – the station, by all means. Let’s get back to the east bank and pick up George and the car.’

At the railway station, Dame Beatrice’s first move was to purchase a copy of British Railways’ holiday guide to Scotland. She observed, as she sat in the car and turned over the pages, that it was remarkably good value for the money. Having admired the volume, she looked up in the index the list of hotels and boarding-houses in the city. Laura peered over her shoulder and observed that it would take them ‘weeks to inquire into that lot.’

‘We can reduce the number we need to inquire into,’ Dame Beatrice pointed out. ‘I shall begin by supposing that Mr Grant’s story is substantially true.’

‘How can we reduce the number? I mean, obviously we can knock out the big hotels, but that still leaves an awful number of places where he might have stayed.’

‘Not so many as you seem to think. The three men were staying in the house; so was Mr Grant; so were the proprietor and, possibly, his family.’

‘Ah! I get it! Number of bedrooms is of the first importance. What’s the minimum number we should look for, do you suppose?’

‘I am inclined to begin with the maximum number (as given in this excellent publication) and work downwards to my minimum number, which is three, for the proprietor would not advertise the accommodation he reserves for himself, his family and any domestic helpers. I am, in fact, more inclined to plump for a minimum of four, as men have a prejudice against sharing a room, except with a woman. Then we can leave out any establishment which offers a service technically known to the advertisers as B.B., for, if Mr Grant was telling the truth, all his meals were sent up to him.’