‘How much do you know about the death of Cu Dubh?’
‘Well, there’s mony a mickle mak’s a muckle, as they say. Things were adding up. There was the visit of the young laird.’
‘Not a chap who translates his sentences from the Gaelic into literal English?’ asked Laura.
‘That same. Dinna tell me you are acquainted with him!’
‘Considering that he was the man who got me on to Tannasgan in the first place, and that I saw him on Skye a day or so later, I think I may claim that I’ve met him.’
‘Deary me! Did it come to you that you should visit at An Tigh Mor, then?’
‘No, it most certainly did not. I was terribly wet and this man was near the little quay and insisted upon turning the lantern and ring the bell.’
‘Ay,’ said Corrie. ‘I heard it, but the laird insisted that himself should take the boat over. “I ken well who it is,” he said, “and I have a thing or two to say to him,” he said. “It is not he who is the heir to Tannasgan, but myself.” And with that he ordered me to the kitchen to help with the dinner, and himself rowed the boatie over the loch to bid the visitor come ben.’
‘He must have had a surprise when he saw
‘Surprise? You couldna surprise that one gin you were putting a charge of dynamite in his breeks! No, no, he was not surprised. Said he to me whiles you were to your bed and he was waiting on his dinner, “The poor-spirited clarty gowk! He sends a lassie to speak for him!” Those were his words, mistress, and that is what he thought.’
‘So the man who signalled for the boat was the laird’s son?’
‘Disinherited.’
‘And you think he killed his father?’
‘Him? No, no, mistress. He hasn’t it in him to kill anybody.’
‘What do you know of some people named Grant who live this side of the hydro-electric power station?’ asked Dame Beatrice.
‘Grant? Ay, Grant.’ He stopped to think. ‘Would that be the Grant who lives at Coinneamh Lodge?’
‘It would.’
‘Ay.’ He spent more time in thought. ‘I canna tell you anything about him.’
‘Can’t, or won’t?’ asked Laura.
‘I canna. Aiblins he killed the old laird; aiblins he didna. There was nae love lost between them.’
‘Oh? How do you know that?’
‘I dinna ken. It might be something I overheard. The old laird kenned something about Grant that was no to his credit.’
‘Such as?’
But Corrie shook his head.
‘Who fashioned those curious animals on the little island with the trees and the maze?’ asked Dame Beatrice.
‘The fabled beasties? I dinna ken. All I ken is that they used to travel.’
‘Travel? Travel where?’
‘To Leith.’
‘What for?’
‘For advertisement, so I was told.’
‘Who told you? The laird?’
‘Ay. I had to row them, two at a time it was mostly, across the loch to meet Grant from Coinneamh Lodge wi’ his motor van and tell him the wee shop in Leith was doing badly again and needed a window-dressing to attract customers. That was all. When I had handed over whichever of the beasties I had been given, I would walk in for the laird’s letters and then row myself back here.’
‘What do you know of another man called Grant? – a reporter on the
‘I’d like fine to skelp that young limmer!’ He turned to Laura. ‘You’ll mind the day you turned up here and the laird brought ye ower the loch the way my guidwife could warm ye wi’ a hot brick to your bed?’
‘Yes,’ said Laura. ‘I’ve blessed her ever since.’
‘Ay. Well, I had orders to tak’ the boat over to the other side before dinner and give a message on the public telephone that’s on the road to Freagair.’
‘Do you remember the message?’ asked Dame Beatrice.
‘Ay.’ He glanced at her sharply. ‘But I’ve told all this to the police. What way would you be speiring at me as well?’
Dame Beatrice had been expecting this question and she replied without hesitation:
‘The young Mr Grant, the reporter, is expecting to be questioned by the police. Mrs Gavin is in the same
