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lied about me which is why I’m back on the job. Didn’t Daviot tell you?”
    â€œI was told by Helen that you were to be given a second chance.”
    â€œBitches to the right o’ me and bitches to the left o’ me,” said Hamish moodily.
    â€œAnd tell Dick to get back to the library and talk to Hetty again. See if she had any inkling that Cyril was on drugs.”
    â€œAnything been found in his blood?”
    â€œThey’re checking. It isn’t CSI: Miami . It’s Scotland. Takes forever.”
    Â Â 
    The following morning, Hamish told Dick he was to go to the library to talk once more to Hetty.
    Dick looked elated. “Glad to,” he said.
    â€œYou’re not sweet on Hetty, are you?”
    â€œNo! You have to be joking.”
    Dick retreated to look out his best uniform, one he hardly ever wore, considering it wasted on the usual sort of jobs he was asked to perform. When he emerged it was to find that Hamish had left and had taken the dog and cat with him.
    He set off for Braikie on a sunny day. The sky above was clear blue and the two mountains that loomed over the village had a covering of snow on their peaks.
    Dick was in such a good mood that he even stopped on the waterfront to say good morning to the Currie sisters.
    â€œWhat have you done to your hair?” asked Nessie.
    â€œHair?” echoed her sister.
    â€œIt grows in black from time to time,” said Dick defensively.
    â€œNonsense. That’s one bad dye job,” said Nessie.
    â€œBad dye job,” murmured Jessie.
    Dick let in the clutch and roared off, his face flaming. The dye was supposed to be temporary and wash out after several shampoos. Dick got as far as the Tommel Castle Hotel when he suddenly made a U-turn and raced back to the police station. Once inside, he stripped off, went into the shower, and shampooed his hair vigorously as rivulets of black dye coursed down his plump body. He finally towelled his hair dry and saw to his relief that most of the dye had gone.
    But the exercise of having to race back to the police station to get rid of the dye had sobered his elation. He vowed to be sensible. Shona was not for him. He would do his duty and talk to the horrible Hetty. He reflected that maybe Blair had some sort of hold over Cyril. Otherwise, why would an Adonis like Cyril go so far as to seduce Hetty?

Chapter Four
    Come, and take a choice of all my library,
    And so beguile thy sorrow.
    â€”Shakespeare
    Hamish arrived at Sam’s Rides in Dornoch. It was on the outskirts of the town. Sam Buchan, the owner, seemed pleased to see him. He was a big highlander with a shock of grey hair and hands like spades.
    â€œI thocht the police had forgotten about thon theft,” he said. “Cheeky sod. Nipped the bike from under ma nose.”
    â€œDo you have CCTV?” asked Hamish.
    â€œAye. I kept thon tape. Come into the office and have a look.”
    Hamish’s heart sank when he saw the tape. It must have been used over and over again and it was like looking at the film through a snowstorm. A dim figure in helmet and leathers mounted the bike and roared off.
    â€œDid you ask in the town if anyone had seen this biker on foot?”
    â€œNobody saw anything.”
    Hamish walked out of the office and looked around. Across the road from the business was a stand of trees. “I’ll look over there,” he said. “Someone could have hidden in those trees and waited for an opportunity.”
    He walked over and began to search the ground. He found two cigarette butts and put them in a forensic bag. Looking across the road, he could understand why Sam and his employees didn’t bother much about security. It looked so quiet and peaceful. Above Dornoch, on the top of snow-covered Ben Bhraggie, stood the hundred-foot-tall statue of the hated first Duke of Sutherland, the man responsible for the infamous high clearances when the crofters had been thrown