‘Ye’ll have another visitor now though,’ Queenie continued. ‘The son, isn’t he?’
‘He’s not staying with me; he’s at the Craigmonie,’ Ally said, wondering how on earth they already knew about Joel. She picked some tomatoes out of the display. ‘I’ll have these as well, Queenie.’
‘Aye, that’ll be why he was in here askin’ questions this mornin’,’ Queenie said.
‘What, he’s been in herealready?’ Ally was amazed. ‘What sort of questions?’
‘Well, he was lookin’ for addresses of the caber tossers and the runners in the earl’s running competition, or whatever it was.’
‘I hope you didn’t give him any addresses,’ Ally said.
‘Aye, well, he was awful nice and polite, so I gave him one or two, didn’t I, Bessie?’
Bessie, who’d suddenly appeared from the storeroom, nodded. ‘Aye, ye did that.’
Ally sighed. ‘You shouldn’t have. He’s out to cause troubleand seems to think he’s more qualified than the police to solve these killings.’
‘Well, the police aren’t doin’ much,’ Queenie snapped.
‘They’re needin’ a kick up the arse,’ remarked the tiniest of the women, which was followed by nods of agreement from the others.
‘And I told him that what he was needin’ to do was to go into the Craigmonie Bar any night of the week, and most of the folk he was after would be there,’ Queenie added. ‘It’d save him knockin’ on all them doors, wouldn’t it?’
Which is exactly what Ross said,Ally thought,and would well and truly set the cat among the pigeons.She placed the tomatoes on the counter, along with a bag of coffee, and got out her purse.
‘Yes,’ she replied, ‘I daresay it would save him knocking on doors.’
As she walked home, Ally wondered if she should have asked Queenie whose addresses she’d actually given to Joel. Since Queenie ran the post office as well, she did, of course, have everyone’s addresses, and Ally could only hope that it wasn’t the McConnachie brothers’ ones that she’d handed over.
She had a bad feeling about it, which proved to be right because she’d hardly opened the door and put the kettle on when a grim-faced Morag came barging in through the back door. She came straight to the point. ‘Didyougive that bloody Canadian our address?’
‘No, I did not,’ Ally replied. ‘I would never do that without your permission. Looks like you might be in need of some tea?’
Morag nodded as she sat down heavily in one of the armchairs. ‘Somebody gave that man our address, Ally, and if it wasn’t you, then who was it?’
‘Perhaps it could be the person whodoesknow everyone’s addresses?’ Ally supplied hopefully.
Morag narrowed her eyes and gave it some thought. ‘Well now, that would be Queenie McDougall,’ she said after a moment.
‘Exactly right,’ Ally confirmed. ‘Apparently, he was in the shop looking for addresses for all the competitors in the games, and of the runners too.’
‘I’ll never speak to that Queenie again!Never! Why would she do that? I bet she gave him directions as well!’ Morag accepted a mug of tea from Ally and, after a large gulp, continued, ‘He comes bangin’ on our door a couple of hours ago wantin’ to speak to Bobby McConnachie, if you please! Our Bobby was very busy upstairs with his video games and that, so I knew he wouldn’t want to be disturbed, and I told the Canadian that Bobby wasn’t in. And then I asked what was it he was wantin’ anyway. And the Canadian said that he had reason to believe that Bobby knew somethin’ about who killed his father and his uncle and that he’d come back later. Bloody nerve!’
‘Well, I don’t suppose you can blame him for wanting to ensure that the killers are arrested. He seems to think that the police are dragging their feet and thathecan do better. So I think he’s upsetting a few people, Morag, not just you.’
‘Aye, that’s as may be,’ said Morag, ‘but my lads will no’ put up with bein’ accused of somethin’ they didn’t do, and by someone who wasn’t evenherewhen it happened!’ Morag’s voice had risen to a crescendo. ‘Have you any of them chocolate digestives left?’
Ally got out the biscuit tin and placed it, open, on the table alongside Morag’s chair. Morag took out a biscuit and dipped it into her tea, then got it into her mouth a split second before it was about to disintegrate into her mug. This was a feat which must have taken Morag years to perfect because she loved thesebiscuits, and Ally had never seen her drop one crumb into her tea yet.
‘Well,’ said Morag, ‘I’m goin’ right down to give that Queenie a piece of my mind! And I’m goin’ to tell her that I’ll be takin’ my custom elsewhere.’
Ally raised her eyebrows. ‘Like where?’
‘I’ll just have to go a bit further afield, but that woman’s not gettin’ another penny of my hard-earned cash, let me tell you.’ Morag helped herself to another biscuit and repeated the whole ritual. ‘Wait until I tell Murdo,’ she muttered through the crumbs. ‘He’ll go mad!’
Ally couldn’t quite see mild-mannered Murdo getting particularly excited about this. She wondered for a moment if she should warn Morag that Joel Watson might well be in the Craigmonie Bar this evening, but then decided not to. Let things run their course.
By the time Morag had digested the second biscuit and drained her tea, she’d calmed down considerably. And as she stood up to go, she said, ‘Aye, well, you can see why I was annoyed, can’t you? I’m off now to have a few words with that Queenie McDougall. See you in the mornin’!’
