Now it was the turn of Forby McKinnon. Forby, like Ivan, had one successful toss and two which landed sideways.
The fifth, and final, contestant was none other than Archie Armstrong, the Atlantic Warrior, winner of the hammer throwing and father of the Highland dancing champions. He appeared from somewhere out of sight, full of confidence and wearing a blue-and-green tartan kilt. The caber was hoisted up and lowered into his hands. He flexed his muscles, smiled benignly, and took a couple of steps forward to gain momentum but, as he ran with the caber, there was an ear-splitting shot and the Atlantic Warrior tumbled to the ground, the caber crashing on top of him.
People came running from every direction. Ally and Ross had pushed their way to the front, and Ross kneeled by Archie Armstrong’s prone figure, gently turning him over and checking his pulse. The sound of the shot had plainly unnerved him and caused him to fall, the falling caber striking the fatal blow.
‘Oh my God!’ Ally exclaimed as she realised what had happened.
‘There’s nothing we can do for him,’ Ross said flatly, turning to the crowd now gathering. ‘He’s dead.’
As Ross laid him gently back on the ground, Ally noticed a fresh graze alongside the dead man’s right ear. She had limited experience in this area, but unless she was very much mistaken, this was a bullet graze. It had missed him by a fraction of an inch, but there was little doubt that it had been intended for him.
This was murder.
TWO
Ross stood up and looked around. ‘Where is this man’s wife?’
As he did so, Archie’s two daughters and their aunt, all crying, had elbowed their way through the rapidly gathering crowd.
‘Mom! Where’s Mom?’ the older girl shrieked, while the younger one sobbed in her aunt’s arms.
Patti had obviously been told because she appeared from somewhere beyond where the others had been standing.
‘Oh my God!’ she screamed, kneeling down beside her husband. ‘Ohno! Oh God!’ She was kissing him now and moaning loudly. ‘Who woulddothis?’ she shouted, pointing at the graze on Archie’s ear. ‘Oh, somebodydosomething! Girls, come here!’ She stood up, and both girls rushed into her outstretched arms. ‘You shouldn’t have to see this!’
‘I’m so sorry,’ Ross said, walking towards her. ‘It’s too late to do anything for your husband, but I’m calling the police now, and they’ll be here shortly.’ He looked around at the gawping crowd. ‘Please stand well back, or go away!’ he shouted. ‘There’ll be no more events today!’
Patti, the girls and Archie’s sister were huddled together alongside Archie’s body, weeping inconsolably. Suddenly, Archie’s sister, Wendy, yelled out, ‘Greg! Where the hellareyou?’
Her husband emerged from the hospitality tent looking slightly bewildered, accompanied by the earl. Greg rushed towards the weeping family. ‘Oh, Wendy!’ He embraced his hysterical wife, while staring down at his brother-in-law’s body. ‘How the hell did this happen?’
The police arrived promptly, but the two young constables appeared to be out of their depth, phoning frantically for senior intervention. One of them had taken Patti, Wendy, Greg and the girls away to the hospitality tent, which was now empty, to await the arrival of Detective Inspector Kandahar. The other one stood alongside the body shooing everyone away. The crowd had evaporated rapidly, most of them heading towards the Craigmonie Hotel to recover with a stiff drink. A few remained, standing well back, gawping with ghoulish fascination.
When Amir Kandahar appeared with the forensic team, he took Ally and Ross to one side.
‘What on earth has happened here?’ he asked, shaking his head and staring at the body. ‘Isn’t this supposed to be a light-hearted, enjoyable, sporty event?’
‘Good question,’ agreed Ally. ‘A shot came out of nowhere and caused him to lose his balance completely. It was obviously meant to kill him!’
‘Well, indirectly the caberdidkill him, and that shot came out ofsomewhere!’ Amir said with a faint smile. ‘Forensics need to study this – we have to get more idea of the exact direction the shot came from, and the constables are combing the areaback there right now looking for the gun.’ He turned to Ally. ‘Where were you two standing when this happened?’
Ross pointed back. ‘Around there somewhere.’
‘And you saw nothing unusual going on? People coming or going? The family, for instance, where were they?’
Ally tried to think, wishing now that she’d paid more attention to the spectators than to the brawny bodies. She shook her head. ‘If I’d known…’
‘We’re always wiser after the event,’ said Ross.
‘Well, have a think,’ said Amir. ‘I’ll have to question the family now, which I’m not looking forward to. I’ll bring them back to you later.’
Amir Kandahar was a tall, good-looking South Asian man in his mid-forties who hailed from Glasgow. Earlier that year, he had replaced Detective Inspector Bob Rigby, who had retired due to heart problems. Ally had had a good relationship with Rigby and had helped him with his investigations on several occasions. He’d been impressed with her sleuthing skills and had sung her praises to Amir. As a result, she and Amir had struck up a friendship, and he was inclined to use her as a sounding board. Ally knew, from their conversations, that Amir had been widowed two years before, and struggled at times to bring up his two teenage daughters on his own, albeit with the help of his extended family.
Back at the malthouse Ally lit the log burner in the kitchen, and she and Ross sat on either side of it, sipping large gin and tonics.
She was dreading the Armstrongs coming back to the malthouse later. What on earth could you say to the widow, daughters and sister of a man who’d just been killed in front of their very eyes in a foreign country?
There must be a certain stigma, Ally reckoned as she sipped her drink, attached to having your most famous guest murderedon day three of his stay in your guest house. It could be off-putting, to say the least, as far as future bookings were concerned. Not that it had happenedunderAlly’s roof, of course, but nevertheless…
