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and closed it down once the cheque for the sale of the schoolhouse was through. Mr. Story had initially opened the account six months before the sale by depositing two million euros. And for a deposit of two million euros, the bank had not studied his paperwork very closely. They produced a copy of his passport and an address in Luxembourg. Police went to the address to find that Mr. Story had only rented the apartment; there was no sign of him. The apartment was now rented to a couple with three small children and there seemed not to be any hope of getting DNA or fingerprints.
    â€œDaviot’s not satisfied,” said Jimmy. “He’s sending me and Blair over to Luxembourg in a couple of days’ time to see if we can dig up anything.”
    â€œOnce Blair get his hands on the duty-frees,” said Hamish, “you’ll probably spend the time coping with him. What about cameras at the bank?”
    â€œThey say they destroy the tapes after three months.”
    â€œThere must be a huge amount of money involved,” said Hamish. “Money laundering from drugs or arms sales, maybe. Or some big heist. There have been a lot of jewel robberies in France, in Paris and in Cannes. Millions’ worth stolen. Anything there? I don’t think there can be any tie-up wi’ Cameron. He’s too small-time to be in the international league if it turns out to be drugs.”
    â€œI think Luxembourg is going to be crowded,” said Jimmy. “Interpol is working on it and Scotland Yard are sending experts. Oh, God! What will they make of Blair? Oh, well, off you go. By the way, no one’s had time with all this, but you might like to find more about that Anka female. I mean, what’s someone who looks as if she came off the catwalk doing up in the back o’ beyond?”
    â€œAnyone contacted the Polish police?”
    â€œHaven’t had time. I’ll get on it when I get back.”
    â€œThere are Polish people all over the north,” said Hamish. “There are the lot who settled after World War Two. Then, thanks to the European Union, the latest influx is so large that the Inverness Courier now has an insert in Polish and the Catholic Church had to fly a priest in from Poland. There’s the Inverness Polish Association in Albyn House in Union Street. I might drop by tomorrow.”
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    Hamish managed to get two hours’ sleep at the station before heading north. It was ten in the morning and a flat disk of a sun had risen low in the sky as if it saw no reason to climb any further, since it would start going down in four hours’ time. The previous night’s frost was still glittering white on the leaves of the ferns bordering the road. Smoke from chimneys rose straight up into the air.
    Hamish’s conscience began to trouble him. There had been many opportunities to get married before Dick had moved into the police station. If he really loved Elspeth Grant, then he would move to Glasgow. But, corrected a nasty little voice in his brain, if she loved you, then she would move to the Highlands. Or was it nothing at all to do with Dick, but the fact that there was always part of him that hankered after Priscilla, despite knowing that her sexual coldness would sabotage any hope of a happy marriage?
    He thought of Anka and put his foot down on the accelerator. What a beauty! And she could bake!
    It was only as Cromish hove into view that he realised he should have been worrying about the murder of Liz.
    There was no tent on the beach. He asked Mrs. Mackay if she had seen Dick and was told he had taken a room at the doctor’s house. He walked up to Dr. Williams’s villa and knocked at the door.
    A plump woman with a scarf tied around her head opened the door. “You’ll be looking for your colleague,” she said. “He’s ben the hoose, in the kitchen. Doctor’s at his surgery if ye’ll be wanting him. It’s that extension