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off their lands to make way for sheep. Dornoch, with its famous golf course and thirteenth-century church, was very low on crime. There were no biker gangs in Sutherland. He felt frustrated. Murdo’s bland face rose before his eyes. There was something there. The restaurant was outside Strathbane and, therefore, technically on his territory. As he stood there, a mad idea took hold of him.
    He went back to the garage and asked if he could rent a motorbike. “Sure,” said Sam.
    â€œYou couldnae rent me a helmet as well?” asked Hamish.
    â€œComes wi’ the rental.”
    Hamish began to plan for the evening ahead.
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    Shona waved to Dick as he entered the library. He hurried up to her and said, “I’m just going to have another word wi’ Hetty. Free for lunch?”
    â€œAye. Grand.”
    Shona watched him trot off to where Hetty was seated at her computer. What a nice, steady man, thought Shona. Just the sort of person to make a good partner for Hetty.
    She had invited Hetty to a party at her house that evening. Shona had not wanted to issue the invitation, as Hetty had a habit, after a few drinks, of thinking she was irresistible. But Dick might be the answer.
    Hetty was scowling at Dick. “What now?”
    â€œI wondered, now that things have calmed down, if you can think of anything about Cyril that might give us a clue as to why he was murdered.”
    â€œI don’t know,” said Hetty shrilly. “I’ve thought and thought.”
    â€œDid he say anything about drugs?”
    â€œHe told me stories about drug raids in Strathbane, but nothing in particular.”
    â€œDid he mention a restaurant called Seven Steps?”
    â€œHe did, I remember. He said he would take me there one evening but he never did.”
    â€œDid he ever mention the name Murdo Bentley?”
    â€œNo. Now go away. I don’t want to think about it any more.”
    Dick handed over his card. “If you do think of anything, let me know.”
    He winked at Shona as he left, went out, and waited patiently in his car until she finally emerged for her lunchtime break.
    In the café, Dick said, “I’m amazed a bonnie lassie like you isnae married.”
    â€œI’ve actually been engaged twice,” said Shona, “but I always got cold feet.”
    â€œWhy’s that?”
    â€œMy parents—they’re dead now—were always rowing. Then my father started beating my mother. It was awful. Ma once told me that he was lovely when they got married and then it all fell to bits. I’m frightened that would happen to me.”
    â€œWhat you need,” said Dick, “is a nice, steady bloke, maybe a wee bit older. How old are you, Shona, if you don’t mind me asking?”
    â€œNot a bit. I’m twenty-eight.”
    That’s not bad at all, thought Dick. Twenty-eight’s quite mature.
    â€œI’m having a party at my place tonight,” said Shona. “Like to come along?”
    â€œYes, great. What time?”
    â€œEight o’clock.” She took out a card and handed it over. “That’s the address. Hetty will be there and maybe she’ll give you some bit of information she might have forgotten. Why not bring Mr. Macbeth?”
    â€œI’ll ask him,” said Dick, “but he’s awfy busy.”
    Dick fretted about the invitation to Hamish all the way back to Lochdubh. Women always fancied Hamish, he thought gloomily. But if he did not tell Hamish, then he might come across Shona who would say something like, Sorry you were too busy to come to my party.
    But when he returned to Lochdubh and reluctantly issued the invitation, Hamish only said, “You go. I don’t feel like a party.” He did not want to get Dick involved in what he planned to do.
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    As soon as Dick had left that evening, Hamish got into the Land Rover and drove round the end of Lochdubh and into the gloom of the