The Drumbeater by Clive Allan

The Drumbeater by Clive Allan

Author:Clive Allan
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781783068036
Publisher: Troubador Publishing Ltd


Chapter Twenty-Three

Tuesday 9th June

‘So, what do we have here…? Nine millimetre parabellum, type 08mE. German wartime origin. Pre-1944 black casing.’

Brodie was perched on the corner of Neil’s desk reading the ballistics report that had just arrived.

‘That’s right. Apparently, the Germans developed the 08mE in an effort to conserve lead. The round had an iron core encased in lead. The jackets were always black up until 1944, when the copper jacket was reintroduced.’

‘Doesn’t look like I needed to spend out on a ballistics analysis the way you’re talking, I’m impressed.’ He handed the plastic evidence bag back to Neil. ‘They all look the bloody same to me.’

‘At least the boffins we use agree with the boffins at the Imperial War Museum,’ said Neil.

‘Aye, I suppose so. How are things going then? Do we even know who the bloody victim is yet? Seems to me you know more about the round that killed him than the poor bugger himself!’

‘I’m still working on it sir. I’ve been back to Glendaig to speak to a couple of the elderly residents who lived there during the war; a Mary Galbraith and her friend Murdo Stuart.’

‘Have they been able to shed any light on any of this?’ Brodie asked, still scanning the ballistics report.

‘Not much, but they have given up a few interesting morsels. Personally, I believe they know a lot more than they’re letting on.’

‘Best you keep the pressure up then. Don’t forget you’ve only got twenty-one days to get to the bottom of this!’

Neil was just about to reply when the phone rang on his desk. He picked it up. ‘Excuse me if I take this, sir.’

‘Aye, fine.’ Brodie slid off the desk top and sauntered back to his office, unaware of the significance of the phone call that had just interrupted their conversation.

‘Hello, DI Strachan. Can I help you?’

‘Hello Mr Strachan. My name’s Robert Durward, I live over in Camuscraig.’

Camuscraig… this must be something to do with the Glendaig enquiry… surely?

‘How can I help you, Mr Durward?’

‘It’s more a case of how I can help you, Inspector. My Grandfather, David MacAllister, was the village policeman here during the war. We heard about the remains that were found on the beach over at Glendaig and all the talk of German spies landing there, so we thought we’d have a look through his old notebooks to see if they threw up anything of interest.’

Notebooks…? Could this be treasure trove… finally the key to this mystery! No, steady on Neil, don’t get carried away.

‘…I see… and did they, Mr Durward?’

‘Aye they did, and the notes have also prompted my mother to remember a few things too.’

‘Look, I think it would be best if I came over straight away and had a look at these notebooks, is that okay?’

‘Fine, and I’ll make sure my mother is here too.’

‘Excellent, what’s your address?’

‘12 Kirk Brae, just on the left as you enter the village from the Kyle Road.’

‘I’ll be there before two, see you then.’

Neil finished scrawling down the address, ripped the sticky note from his pad, and then grabbed his jacket.



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