Gently North-West (20 page)

McGuigan’s eyes gleamed. ‘Och, just Hamish an’ one or two o’ the laddies. But since they wouldna take orders from you, an’ since I’m no’ like to give them any, that’s just idle clatter. You’ll need to be patient, George ma mannie.’

He gave a sudden, wild whoop, thrust his rifle at Gently, then went leaping down the descending cleft with a recklessness that made Gently shudder. At the level of the seam he paused briefly, made a quick, shuffling traverse. He picked up the dirk by its tip. He looked up at Gently, whooped again.

The Minx and two police cars were standing before the farm. Blayne, Purdy and six uniform men were deployed about the yard. When Gently and McGuigan came out of the trees Blayne went loping over to meet them, but it was McCracken, fierce as a bear, who rushed up to reach them first.

‘Where’s ma daughter – what have you done wi’ her?’

He thrust his grim face at Gently’s. His grey eyes were wide with hate and his huge fingers curled like hooks. McGuigan tapped him on the shoulder.

‘Just stand aside a wee, cousin,’ he said. ‘Ye’re talkin’ to a man worth half a dozen o’ you – an’ a friend o’ Knockie’s to boot.’

‘Where’s ma daughter!’ McCracken snarled, striking McGuigan’s hand aside. ‘If you’ve harmed a finger o’ her I’ll rend ye apart – where’s ma daughter – where’s Flora?’

‘Now you’re bein’ less than civil, cousin,’ McGuigan said, giving McCracken a poke that sent him staggering. ‘An’ it does not become a kinsman o’ mine who may be standin’ upright by my grace an’ favour.’

‘If ye touch me again I’ll kill ye!’ McCracken snapped.

‘I’ll run the risk of it,’ McGuigan said. ‘An’ on that subject, cousin, I’ll have you know you were as near dying as breathing yourself, but two hours earlier. I had a bead on your forehead, man, while you were waggin’ your gun at the Superintendent, an’ had ye made one move the more I would have split your head like a rotten orange.’

‘Ye did – ye did!’ McCracken spluttered. ‘I shallna forget that either, Knockie – but ma daughter – where’s ma daughter. If she’s harmed, I’ll murder ye a’!’

‘Your daughter is safe,’ Gently said. ‘Perhaps you can tell us where to look for her.’

‘Ahem – ahem,’ Blayne’s dry cough interrupted. ‘I was just about to put the very same question.’

McCracken stared from one to another of them and a look of cunning came into his eyes. ‘So she’s awa’!’ he said. ‘That’s the news I wanted – awa’, an’ the likes o’ you dinna ken where. Bring out your constables, Inspector Blayne – bring out your rampin’ big doggies – the scent’s het, man – set ’em on – but you’ll scarcely come by a glisk o’ Flora.’

‘That may be,’ Blayne said. ‘But I’m nabbin’ you for one, McCracken. I’m thinkin’ our chances will be that much better wi’ you kickin’ your heels in a cell.’

‘You canna hold me – you can prove nothin’.’

‘I can prove threatenin’ behaviour for a start. An’ unless I’m much mistaken, I can come up with other charges after a wee crack wi’ the Superintendent. No, Hector ma man, your foot’s in the bog, an’ it won’t come out for stainpin’ an’ rantin’. An’ we’ll have that wild lassie o’ yours too, if not with dogs, then with starvation.’

McCracken spat. ‘You’ll never find Flora.’

‘That’s a big word, never,’ Blayne said. ‘Will I be puttin’ the shackles on those outsize wrists, or will you wait douce an’ quiet in a car?’

‘He’ll wait douce an’ quiet,’ McGuigan said. ‘You have the word of his kinsman.’

McCracken gave McGuigan a blazing look, then turned and stumped away towards the cars.

‘Well, now,’ Blayne said to Gently. ‘I ken you’re a gliff ahead o’ me, man. An’ if you’re for puttin’ me out o’ my ignorance, I’m for just sich a charitable motion myself.’

This story has no moral,

This story has no end.

‘Frankie and Johnny’

G
ENTLY TALKED. IN
a few words he described his reception by the McCrackens, Flora McCracken’s confession, her violence and flight. What he did not describe was his tailing of McGuigan and the interview at Glenny, for which notable exclusion he received relieved looks from the anxious laird. But Blayne could not be satisfied so easily.

‘And what brought you to Laggart, man?’ he asked flatly. ‘It’s the neb an’ forefront o’ the whole interlude – an’ I have an interest in it I’ll speak of later.’

‘It was his evil genius brought him,’ said Brenda, who had joined them in time to hear Gently’s account. ‘That, and his general profligate character. He can never leave the lassies alone.’

‘Ay,’ Blayne said, giving Gently a shrewd look. ‘I recall what you were tellin’ me, Miss Merryn – that he met the female McCracken last night, an’ there was a passage o’ words between them. But I’d not have thought – I haven’t heard – she is a very come-hithersome manner o’ lassie, an’ I’d not have supposed the Superintendent would be so dooms quick off the mark wi’ her.’

‘Ah, you don’t know him, Inspector,’ Brenda said. ‘There’s a ravening wolf under all that phlegm. And the women fall for it. They adore a suave, polite brute like George.’

‘But the lassie herself,’ Blayne said. ‘She gave him small encouragement, by your account of it.’

‘Wrong again, Inspector. The lassie knew well enough how to lead him on.’

‘Well – howsoever,’ Blayne said. ‘It would be a rash, inconsiderin’ action to come chasin’ up here – an’ I’m still left wonderin’ how it just happened that Flora McCracken was the one we sought.’

Gently hunched his shoulders. ‘It’s simple,’ he said. ‘McGuigan and I conferred together. McGuigan had the idea the murderer came from this side. So we just played it along for what it was worth.’

‘So that was the way of it,’ Blayne said sombrely. ‘I could have wished you’d passed your ideas to me, Mr McGuigan.’

‘I hadn’t the chance,’ McGuigan said, thrusting his beard out. ‘You were too busy bangin’ me wi’ questions, man.’

‘Aweel,’ Blayne sighed. ‘It may be so. I ken I was playin’ my hand with a flourish – an’ the de’il of it is I was findin’ my own way – I was near to drawin’ up wi’ McCracken myself.’

‘How was that?’ Gently said.

‘Och, by listenin’ to gossip. A word in my lug from Mattie Robertson. She’s an observant woman, as you likely ken – there’s not much in Tudlem she doesn’t hear tell of. An’ she was just mentionin’ that McMorris let drop – he’s the Forestry ranger who found Dunglass – that the McCracken lassie was aye strollin’ the braes, an’ once he’d seen her talkin’ wi’ Donnie.’

‘She didn’t have much luck, did she?’ Brenda said. ‘And nobody told her to wear gloves.’

‘Ay – I was puttin’ it together in my heid,’ Blayne said. ‘An’ addin’ Poppy Frazer to the heap, who Dunglass lately fetched from Glasgow. But that’s all under the bridge now – it’s just to let ye ken I was thereabout – an’ for the rest, I’m mighty glad it wasn’t maself who took a twirl in the hills wi’ Flora McCracken.’

‘It was the short way,’ Gently said. ‘A confession was what we most needed.’

‘Short or lang,’ Blayne said. ‘It would have been no way for me. I ken my limitations, man – I have somethin’ more o’ patience an’ less o’ gunpowder. The sort o’ work you were makin’ today is beyond the talents o’ Alistair Blayne.’

Please,’ Brenda said. ‘Don’t butter him up. His conceit is fabulous already.’

‘What’s worryin’ me now,’ Blayne said, ‘is how we can get him official credit for it.’

‘That’s easy,’ Gently said hastily. ‘You won’t. I want my name kept out of this. I’m on vacation. I shan’t be very pleased if you sick a load of reporters on me.’

‘But we’ll need your evidence, man—’

‘No. The prints, the blood tell their own story. When you catch Miss McCracken you’ve a confession to face her with. You shouldn’t need to bring me in at all.’

Blayne raised and dropped his hands. ‘It’s against my wishes, ye ken,’ he said slowly. ‘But if so you’ll have it, so it will be – an’ with a gratefu’ heart from Inspector Blayne.’

They took McGuigan with them down the track to recover his Cortina. He sat in front with Gently, saying nothing till they halted at the spot where he’d left his car. Then he turned to them, his beard lifting, his surprising eyes shyly earnest.

‘Man,’ he said. ‘This is no small matter – we canna brush it off so lightly. I’d like it ill if you left the country without another visit to Knockie. And I ken Mary will want to thank you – and Glenny’ll want another crack – and well – it would just be highly convenient if you would consider spendin’ a day at the Lodge.’

‘Will the trout and venison be on?’ Brenda asked.

‘Och, will it not, Miss Merryn. And we’ll have the pipes – if you’re fond o’ music – Hamish McTurk is a rare piper. An’ we’ll give the house a bit of a trim up – an’ you’ll be bringin’ your friends with you – an’ I’ll ask one or two o’ my own – an’ there’ll be dancin’ – och, what do you say?’

‘Try holding me back,’ Brenda said. ‘And that of course goes for George, Geoffrey and Bridget.’

‘Keep to that,’ McGuigan said, catching her hand. ‘Man, they’ll hear the noise of us in Stirling. Shall we say Friday o’ this week.’

‘The obvious and perfect day,’ Brenda said.

‘Then all’s settled – Friday sure – an’ come for breakfast if ye will!’

They drove back with the Cortina following them, and saw it turn across the bridge at Strathtudlem. Geoffrey and Bridget were still out and the cottage was heavy with its cool silence. They sat down on the very hard settee. Brenda snuggled into Gently’s arms.

‘Hold me tight for a little while,’ she said. ‘Because the certain fact is I’m proved chicken.’

‘You’re you,’ Gently said. ‘That’s what’s important. Who else would you like to be?’

‘No one – now,’ she sighed contentedly. ‘But I’m a hopeless craven, if you did but know. And you must admire girls like Flora McCracken, who can knock you down and nearly knife you. She’s the real stuff of heroics. For a Joan McArc, apply to Flora.’

‘Hush,’ Gently said. ‘Who wants a heroine?’

‘You, probably,’ Brenda said. ‘But I’m what you’ve got, George Gently, so you’ll just have to make the best of me.’

‘I’ll try to resign myself,’ Gently said.

‘You’d better, you brute,’ Brenda said. ‘Because I’ll never, never let you go up the braes again with a strange woman. You hear me telling you?’

‘I hear you,’ Gently said.

‘Then kiss me – kiss me – and kiss me again.’

Gently kissed her.

Some time after, sooner or later, the others returned.

And that fortnight passed with its suns and its rains and its picnics and expeditions, and they visited Knockie and ate trout and venison and danced and sang in a mild evening; and the morning came when they said goodbye and turned the Hawk, the Sceptre southwards, and Mrs McFie counted her winnings and swore the Major kent who to draw up with.

And still there was no news of Flora McCracken. But it wasn’t the end of the story, either.

One hot afternoon in August Gently reported in from a case in the country. He was hungry, tired and in an irritable state from having had to drive through rush-hour traffic. In his outer office he met Inspector Dutt.

‘Someone’s waiting to see you, Chief,’ Dutt said.

‘Who?’ Gently snapped.

‘A woman – I think. She’s been in and out of the tank all afternoon.’

‘Name?’

‘Doesn’t give one.’

‘Seen her before?’

Dutt shook his head.

‘So,’ Gently said, ‘sling her out. I wouldn’t want her to miss her tea.’

But on his way down he glanced into the tank, as the windowless waiting-room was called, and Dutt’s stranger was still sitting there. Only Gently knew her. Flora McCracken.

Gently faded back to his office.

‘The woman in the tank,’ he said to Dutt. ‘Get four of the toughest policewomen you can find, have them search her, bring her to me.’

‘You know her, then, Chief,’ Dutt said.

‘Yes,’ Gently said. ‘Very much I know her. What they’ll be searching for is a knife, and they’d better not waste any time finding it.’

Twenty minutes later she was dragged into the office with everyone looking the worse for wear. She’d had a knife. When she saw Gently she set up a screaming that made their ears ring.

‘Lock her up!’ Gently bawled. ‘And someone keep observation on her.’

They dragged her out again. Gently picked up the phone, put through a call to Balmagussie. He doodled on his pad, grinning to himself, thinking how he was going to surprise Blayne. He got Blayne.

‘Inspector Blayne? This is Chief Superintendent Gently.’

‘Och – my stars! – is it you, Superintendent? An’ have you just rang up to congratulate me?’

‘Congratulate you – what for?’

‘Why, for tyin’ up yon case, man – for gettin’ a confession oot of Hector McCracken – have you no seen the
Scotsman
this morning?’

Gently took a deep breath. ‘No,’ he said. ‘I haven’t seen the
Scotsman
this morning. But I’ve had Flora McCracken come hunting me with a knife, and she’s sitting in a cell here waiting collection.’

‘Guidness gracious – are you all right, man?’

‘I’m all right. What about this confession?’

‘It’s just that he made it – and it’s very circumstantial – an’ jings! – what else could I do but charge him?’

‘So?’

Pause at Blayne’s end.

‘Man, this is awkward,’ he said at last. ‘I’ll fetch the lassie, no fear o’ that, but the de’il kens what I’m goin’ to do with her.’

‘Her confession was also circumstantial.’

‘I ken – I ken. An’ there’s the prints.’

‘You can hold her on attempted g.b.h.’

‘I can that . . . but what next?’

Another pause.

‘I’m thinkin’,’ Blayne said. ‘It’s as clear as day that one o’ them did it.’

‘Clear as day,’ Gently said. ‘Either Hector McCracken or his daughter.’

‘And I’m thinkin’ further – and you’ll ken the truth of it – that the McCrackens are a chancy clan, and that whichever one finishes up in the tolbooth, there’ll be a manner o’ justice in it.’

‘Something of that sort,’ Gently said.

‘A manner o’ justice,’ Blayne said. ‘Which should be the guidin’ light of all polismen faced with unusual situations. So we’ll just fetch the lassie up here – we’ll see who suits the bonnet best – and one way or t’ ither, we canna go very far astray.’