My Bones Will Keep

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‘PITY it was Inverness and not Edinburgh,’ said Laura, ‘because in Edinburgh, according to my Uncle Hamish, there would be two chief possibilities. The Castle Esplanade is one, but, in this case, I should say, a most unlikely choice because I simply don’t think you’d dare to risk attacking anybody there, even at night. The other one I’m thinking of is the Grassmarket, where, after 1660, they brought Covenanters to be hanged. What about the Grassmarket, Inspector?’

‘Unfortunately, although I appreciate your knowledge of Scottish history, we know Mr Bradan was attacked in Inverness, Mrs Gavin. Well, now, about your good man.’

‘He might have told me he was on a job. What is it? – piracy on the high seas, gun-running, smuggling?’

‘Perhaps a bit of everything. He went to Florida as the guest of a millionaire whom he’d helped at some time, it seems.’

‘Saved his kid from some kidnappers who had followed the family from the U.S.A. to London at the time of the Festival of Britain in 1951. We seem to be haunted by kidnappers all through this business, don’t we?’

‘The millionaire seems to have taken some time to repay his debt, then,’ said the inspector, ignoring the question.

‘Oh, no,’ said Laura earnestly. ‘He was always badgering us to go. I was the one who stood out. I didn’t think I’d fit in with a millionaire’s environment and, until this Edinburgh Conference turned up and we thought’ – she looked accusingly at Dame Beatrice – ‘we thought, I repeat, that I would be needed to aid and abet, Gavin refused to go alone. Anyway, this time, when the invitation came, I insisted that he accept it. I think the prospect of the fishing clinched it, you know.’

‘You don’t care for fishing, Mrs Gavin?’

‘Salmon and trout, yes. Barracuda, sharks and tunny no. I feel they’re above my weight.’

The inspector looked at her long limbs and splendid body and shook his head admiringly.

‘Anyway,’ he said, ‘from the reports he has sent back to New Scotland Yard and they have passed on to us, it was not so very long before your good man was fishing for something other than barracuda. Maybe you’ll mind a letter you wrote your young son, with marginal illustrations?’

‘Oh, Hamish, yes. I’ve written to him a number of times since we’ve been up here – picture postcards mostly – and I did send him some rather exaggerated drawings of the fabulous animals—’

‘Ay, those that are on the small, wooded inch with the maze, and which Dame Beatrice believes are symbolic.’

‘Yes. I thought he might be interested. I wrote him a short ledgend connected with each one.’

‘You did, so? Well, the wee laddie, it seems, was so pleased with the drawings and the old tales that he must send the letter to his daddy, with strict instructions that it was to be returned. Well, your good man has an alert mind and a seeing eye, and he was intrigued to notice that running between a Florida creek, where the fishing party was in camp, and, apparently, somewhere in the West Indies, were three tramp ships named, respectively, Basilisk, Werewolf and Gryphon.’

Laura looked at Dame Beatrice and raised her eyebrows.

‘I suppose Detective Chief-Inspector Gavin was struck by the coincidence,’ said Dame Beatrice non- committally.

‘You may say that, ma’am, especially as he had had the Scotsman and the London papers flown out to him so that he could keep in touch with events at home. There was a wee paragraph copied from the Freagair Reporter and Advertiser which bore out what Mrs Gavin had written to her laddie and which gave the locality of the inch on which she seen the models of the fabulous beasties.’

‘Young Grant’s report to his local paper, of course,’ said Laura.

‘Well, Detective Chief-Inspector Gavin is a very canny man and the coincidence of the names seemed to him so striking that he sent word to London and suggested that Scotland Yard might like to contact the Customs and Excise people, or possibly Lloyds, and find out a little more about these sonsie wee craft. It did not take long to discover that no boats under these names were registered with Lloyds.’

‘No, but these are,’ said Dame Beatrice delving into the pocket of her skirt and producing a small black notebook. ‘Of course, it may be fortuitous that the first two letters in each name correspond with the first two letters in the names of the boats in question, but there is another coincidence which, I think, may be worth nothing. Did our dear Robert obtain any impression of the tonnage of the boats he mentions?’

‘He did. He points out that he is only estimating the tonnage, but it seems that he is well acquainted with boats of all kinds…’

‘The Clyde,’ explained Laura. ‘He spent a lot of his boyhood at Dumbarton and Greenock.’

‘Aha. Well, before you show me your list, mistress, I’ll quote you what Mr Gavin has to tell. Here it is: Basilisk, about nine thousand tons, diesel driven, type made on the Clyde in about 1938. Werewolf, about the same size, steamship. Probably built a little earlier – say in the early 1930s. Gryphon, motor-ship, modern, about four thousand five hundred tons. All ships appear to be well-found. Captains and crew drink together but are unsociable with other people ashore. Suggest may be engaged in illicit liquor trade or gun-running. (Always chance of revolutions in these latitudes).

‘Hm!’ said Laura. Again she glanced at Dame Beatrice. ‘Did your man at Lloyds give any more help?’ she asked her.

‘I think so. Will you give us your conclusions first, Inspector?’

‘No, no, ladies first, Dame Beatrice.’

‘Well, from the list supplied to me, I have formed the theory that when these ships are in British waters they may be called by rather different names. I have a footnote here which my friend provided in answer to a question I particularly asked.’