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Authors: Keith Moray
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fact a minder, was Hugh Thompson – ‘known to all as Wee Hughie’, Dan Farquarson corrected with a laugh. Morag smiled at them mirthlessly, for chauvinism was a moral crime as far as she was concerned, and she was still rankling at the manner in which they had greeted her.
Then he introduced her to the last of the group, Sandy King, and her gaze lingered for what she realized may seem a moment overlong. The truth was that he ticked all of the rightboxes as far as she was concerned. He was less than ten years younger than her, which wasn’t an age apart, and with his long blond hair, square chin and china-blue eyes, she thought that he was quite the best-looking man she had seen in years. That and the fact that he was a football star whom she admired, brought a warmth to her cheeks.
‘Can I order you a drink, Sergeant Driscoll?’ he asked. Then, with a smile, ‘Morag, you said your name was, didn’t you?’
Morag shook her head and ignored his second question. ‘This is official, I am afraid. I am here to ask you questions about a complaint that has been made against all of you.’
‘A complaint!’ exclaimed Wee Hughie, the minder. ‘Who’s looking for a kicking then?’
Morag turned steady eyes on him. ‘We don’t tolerate violence on West Uist, Mr Thompson.’
‘Shush, Wee Hughie,’ said Dan Farquarson, scowling at his associate. Then to Morag, ‘What my friend meant to ask was what sort of complaint, Sergeant? And who made it?’
‘Doctor Digby Dent, an entomologist working on the island, claims that one or more of you deliberately damaged a piece of his scientific equipment.’ She produced a notebook and her silver pen. ‘Now, if I can take a statement from each of you.’
‘Ach, Morag Driscoll, is this really necessary?’ voiced Bruce McNab. ‘That Dent fellow is a nuisance. He puts everyone’s back up.’
‘A complaint has been made and I am duty bound to investigate it,’ Morag replied, quite unperturbed. ‘Now, you first, Mr McNab.’
Morag made neat entries as they each gave their account. She was not surprised to find that their versions were substantially the same as each other and that they were very different from Dr Dent’s. Wee Hughie admitted that he hadtrodden on the pole, but had not realized that the net had been torn.
‘It was an accident, Morag,’ said Sandy King.
And on that point the others were quick to agree.
‘You believe us, don’t you, Morag?’ Sandy King asked eagerly.
Morag felt the hairs on the back of her neck prickle, but she ignored them, just as she refused to be drawn into answering the question.
‘I have noted all of your answers and I thank you. You have all been most helpful.’
‘We would like to just draw a line under it,’ said Dan Farquarson. ‘It was an accident and no hard feelings to Dr Dent.’
Sandy King smiled at Morag. ‘You can even say that I will be quite happy to reimburse the cost of his net, as a gesture of good will.’ He held her regard for a moment then added, ‘And maybe we’ll see you again in a less official capacity?’
Morag lowered her eyes and felt her cheeks colour. ‘Thank you, gentlemen,’ she said. ‘You all sound very reasonable.’
She snapped her notebook shut and was on the verge of asking Sandy King a casual question about the rumours over a transfer to the Picts, when she reconsidered and snapped back into professional mode.
‘Just one final thing: Mollie said that you all came in dribs and drabs. Had you been apart since you left the river?’
Dan Farquarson was quick to answer. ‘No, just visits to the toilet and that, you know. We’ve been together otherwise.’ He looked over at Bruce McNab. ‘That’s right, isn’t it, McNab?’
Bruce nodded with alacrity. ‘Absolutely Mr Farquarson. Together all morning.’
IV
Torquil had taken Calum’s call and agreed to pop round to the Chronicle offices. But first he took Crusoe for a walk along by the Mosset Burn that ran down from
Then he introduced her to the last of the group, Sandy King, and her gaze lingered for what she realized may seem a moment overlong. The truth was that he ticked all of the rightboxes as far as she was concerned. He was less than ten years younger than her, which wasn’t an age apart, and with his long blond hair, square chin and china-blue eyes, she thought that he was quite the best-looking man she had seen in years. That and the fact that he was a football star whom she admired, brought a warmth to her cheeks.
‘Can I order you a drink, Sergeant Driscoll?’ he asked. Then, with a smile, ‘Morag, you said your name was, didn’t you?’
Morag shook her head and ignored his second question. ‘This is official, I am afraid. I am here to ask you questions about a complaint that has been made against all of you.’
‘A complaint!’ exclaimed Wee Hughie, the minder. ‘Who’s looking for a kicking then?’
Morag turned steady eyes on him. ‘We don’t tolerate violence on West Uist, Mr Thompson.’
‘Shush, Wee Hughie,’ said Dan Farquarson, scowling at his associate. Then to Morag, ‘What my friend meant to ask was what sort of complaint, Sergeant? And who made it?’
‘Doctor Digby Dent, an entomologist working on the island, claims that one or more of you deliberately damaged a piece of his scientific equipment.’ She produced a notebook and her silver pen. ‘Now, if I can take a statement from each of you.’
‘Ach, Morag Driscoll, is this really necessary?’ voiced Bruce McNab. ‘That Dent fellow is a nuisance. He puts everyone’s back up.’
‘A complaint has been made and I am duty bound to investigate it,’ Morag replied, quite unperturbed. ‘Now, you first, Mr McNab.’
Morag made neat entries as they each gave their account. She was not surprised to find that their versions were substantially the same as each other and that they were very different from Dr Dent’s. Wee Hughie admitted that he hadtrodden on the pole, but had not realized that the net had been torn.
‘It was an accident, Morag,’ said Sandy King.
And on that point the others were quick to agree.
‘You believe us, don’t you, Morag?’ Sandy King asked eagerly.
Morag felt the hairs on the back of her neck prickle, but she ignored them, just as she refused to be drawn into answering the question.
‘I have noted all of your answers and I thank you. You have all been most helpful.’
‘We would like to just draw a line under it,’ said Dan Farquarson. ‘It was an accident and no hard feelings to Dr Dent.’
Sandy King smiled at Morag. ‘You can even say that I will be quite happy to reimburse the cost of his net, as a gesture of good will.’ He held her regard for a moment then added, ‘And maybe we’ll see you again in a less official capacity?’
Morag lowered her eyes and felt her cheeks colour. ‘Thank you, gentlemen,’ she said. ‘You all sound very reasonable.’
She snapped her notebook shut and was on the verge of asking Sandy King a casual question about the rumours over a transfer to the Picts, when she reconsidered and snapped back into professional mode.
‘Just one final thing: Mollie said that you all came in dribs and drabs. Had you been apart since you left the river?’
Dan Farquarson was quick to answer. ‘No, just visits to the toilet and that, you know. We’ve been together otherwise.’ He looked over at Bruce McNab. ‘That’s right, isn’t it, McNab?’
Bruce nodded with alacrity. ‘Absolutely Mr Farquarson. Together all morning.’
IV
Torquil had taken Calum’s call and agreed to pop round to the Chronicle offices. But first he took Crusoe for a walk along by the Mosset Burn that ran down from
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