Her guests had returned when Ally got home. She could hear them talking in the newly cleaned sitting room as she walked into her pristine kitchen. It didn’t appear as if Morag had taken the painting down from the wall, but you never knew. She’d done it once before and been so incensed to see her sons there as suspects that she’d given in her notice. Fortunately, Morag needed the job as much as Ally needed a cleaner, and so it had been resolved amicably.
Ross phoned to say he wouldn’t be able to come up to the malthouse tonight because he’d got guests coming to one of his cottages and, furthermore, the boiler still wasn’t connected.
Ally decided she’d have an early night.
Ally had never seen Morag so angry as when she arrived after an uneventful weekend at the malthouse on Monday morning.
‘They’re questioning our Bobby again!’ she ranted. ‘Just cos he said somethin’ a bit silly!’
‘What did he say that was silly?’ Ally asked, only too aware that a great deal of what Bobby said was silly.
‘Well, after he’d thrown his caber, he went into that hospitality tent for a quick pint with a couple of his mates, but he came out before they did because he wanted to seethatCanadiandoin’his tossin’. So they’re treatin’ him like he’s a suspect anyway, and then he goes and tells them that he won a rifle-shootin’ contest a year or two back.’
‘Why would he tell them that?’ Ally asked.
Morag sighed. ‘I know, I know, he shouldn’t’ve done. He was only havin’ a wee boast!’
‘No wonder he’s a suspect,’ Ally said. ‘I hope Micky didn’t win any shooting contests?’
Morag looked uncomfortable. ‘No, but he always went out on the stag-huntin’, and he’s known to be a good shot. I mean it was Angus who trained him, for goodness’ sake!’
‘I thought your two were together at the time of the shooting?’ Ally asked, slightly puzzled.
‘Och no. Micky was with his missus, and they was watchin’ the dancin’. Then, after he’d done his caber tossin’, Micky goes off for a wee beer, then he nipped to the toilet, but he came straight back to watchthatCanadian.’ Morag pursed her lips in disapproval.
Anotherone in the toilets!Ally thought. These loos were certainly well patronised. And as the killer had to have been in the elevated position above and beyond the toilets, how come nobody saw him or her? Surely someone would have seen somebody up there or even glimpsed the metallic glint of a rifle in the bright sunshine, even through the trees?
By later in the day, it had clouded over, and the Armstrongs opted to remain in the sitting room. They had commented at breakfast time about how much they’d all enjoyed their walk to Loch Soular and how, out there surrounded by nature, they’d all felt closer to Archie.
Even Wendy looked more cheerful.
After Morag had gone home, Ally loaded the washing machine and then decided the time had come to pay a visit to Finlay McKinnon’s shop, known locally as Fin’s Fish. Because of the similarity of their names and Queenie’s bad eyesight, Ally frequently got Finlay’s mail, and often wondered if he got any of hers, although he always denied it.
Finlay was a small, wiry man with a weather-beaten face and a full head of curly white hair. Every morning early, he went out on his boat with his son, Forby, and generally came back with a good haul, most of which he sold throughout the day. You could count on Fin’s fish being very fresh indeed. In the summer months, they’d have sold everything by early afternoon and they’d shut up shop to take the tourists out for fishing trips on the sea loch.
Ally normally bought all her fish and seafood from Finlay, but today she was particularly interested in having a chat with Forby.
It was quite a distance from the village, beyond Ross’s place, so Ally decided to take her car. She hoped it would be Forby selling in their big hut, but today it was Fin himself behind the wooden counter.
‘Nice day, Mrs McKinley!’ he greeted her. ‘You must have known I’ve got some lovely sea trout!’
‘Wow!’ Ally exclaimed as he lifted a large trout carefully from his tray of ice. ‘How much is that?’
‘Special price for you!’ he said, which is what he said to everyone. ‘Like me to gut it for you?’
The price was reasonable, and Ally couldn’t resist his offer to gut and clean the trout for her. It was a task she didn’t relish doing. ‘Oh, yes, please!’
As Fin took the fish behind to a bench at the rear, he yelled out, ‘Forby! Can you hold the fort for a few minutes?’
Forby emerged from somewhere outside, rolling up hissleeves as he got behind the counter. He was taller but sturdily built like his father, with a crop of black curly hair and nice brown eyes.
‘Oh, hello, Mrs McKinley!’ he greeted her as he pulled a striped apron over his head.
‘Hi, Forby!’ Ally was determined now to get off the subject of fish and onto the subject of the Locharran Games. ‘Have you recovered from the games yet?’
Forby rolled his eyes. ‘I keep trying to forget it, but the bloody police – excuse my language – keep coming back and asking the same old questions.’
‘That’s what they do,’ Ally agreed.
