PENITENT: a Scottish murder mystery with a devilish twist (Detective Inspector Munro murder mysteries Book 9) by Pete Brassett

Author:Pete Brassett [Brassett, Pete]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: THE BOOK FOLKS best-selling crime fiction publishers
Published: 2019-05-29T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 10

Set on a quiet country lane surrounded by woodland and wide, open fields, the school in Palnackie – a whitewashed, single-storey building with a moss-laden roof – had, despite the growth of the village, changed little in its two-hundred-year history.

Relishing the warmth of the afternoon sun, Munro, standing with his jacket slung casually over his shoulder, watched as hordes of screaming children fled its granite walls followed at a sedate pace by a colossus of a man with a snowy white beard wearing a jet black suit looking not unlike a Quaker from Little House on the Prairie.

‘You’re not a parent, are you?’ said Galbraith as he lumbered across the road.

‘Too late for that,’ said Munro with a wink. ‘It’s not changed much, has it?’

‘The school? So you’re familiar with the place then?’

Munro, guessing Galbraith to be at least ten years his junior, took a deep breath and decided to chance his arm.

‘I am,’ he said, smiling nostalgically. ‘I used to be a pupil here.’

Galbraith shot him a wary glance.

‘And when was that?’ he asked suspiciously.

‘About the time Edison had his light bulb moment. Things were different then of course. Life was better.’

‘Put your rose-tinted spectacles away,’ said Galbraith, ‘things haven’t changed that much.’

‘Oh, I’m not sure I’d agree with you there,’ said Munro as he recalled Duncan’s invaluable piece of research. ‘The staff didnae have to meet targets in those days, and us weans were allowed to run free. Dinnae get me wrong, we had discipline too, that was thanks to a fellow by the name of Anderson. Eoin Anderson. He ruled the roost with a rod of iron but I’ll give him this, he was firm but fair.’

‘My philosophy exactly,’ said Galbraith, relaxing at the mention of Anderson’s name. ‘Would you care for a look inside Mr…?’

‘Munro. James Munro. Thanks but you’re alright. I’d rather keep my memories intact. So, do you teach here then?’

‘I’m the headmaster. Galbraith’s the name. What brings you here, Mr Munro? I hope you’re not ticking things off a bucket list?’

‘No, no, I’ve been meaning to come for some time, but when I heard about Flora MacDonald, well, that just made the trip all the more poignant.’

‘Aye, dear Flora. A tragedy for sure. So you knew her?’

‘We exchanged pleasantries,’ said Munro. ‘My late wife, Jean, God rest her soul, and myself would often pop into the post office on our way back from Rascarrel.’

‘Rascarrel?’

‘Aye, there’s some fine walking to be had around the bay. You need a head for heights mind; if the wind’s blowing atop the cliff well, you’re taking your life in your hands.’

‘Oh you’re not wrong there,’ said Galbraith. ‘I know it well. I have one of those fancy holiday homes on the beach, have you seen them? The cabins?’

‘No. It’s been a while, I’m afraid, and I’m not up to walking much these days.’

‘They’re something else,’ said Galbraith. ‘All mod cons, a great view, and we even have a hot tub on the deck.’

‘Och, you’ll not catch me in one of those, I prefer my creature comforts indoors.

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