Whisky from Small Glasses by Denzil Meyrick

Author:Denzil Meyrick [Meyrick, Denzil]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780857908421
Publisher: Birlinn

14

‘Can you tell us how the couple on the boat died, Chief Inspector?’ The reporter held a large microphone to his face, with what looked like a dead hamster affixed to the end.

‘No comment, at the moment.’ Daley was flustered, and not just by the reporters who swarmed around him as though he was a hunted celebrity. No, he was furious that within an hour of their arrival at Kinloch with the cruiser Russian Gold, the press had begun to descend on the town’s police office. Someone had talked. The reporters were all aware that two bodies had been found on the vessel, and they were pressing Daley to confirm that they were those of Janet Ritchie and Peter Mulligan, which, because he had not had the chance to contact the next of kin, he steadfastly refused to do.

To make matters worse, Superintendent Donald was on his way, with a senior PR consultant in tow. At least, Daley reasoned, Donald would, in his usual fashion, attract the attention of the press like bees to honey.

Because of the unwanted media attention, they had been forced to close the large gate which guarded the rear car park at the station. The gate creaked open enough to allow Daley and Scott entry, leaving the three constables who had the unenviable task of closing it again to their business.

‘Bastards,’ Scott intoned just within earshot of the reporters. ‘Some bugger on that lifeboat must have spilled the beans. My money’s on that pompous arsehole, Campbell. What d’you reckon?’

‘I’ll set our beloved leader on him. That’ll give him something to get his teeth into, and keep him out of our hair.’ Yet again, he hadn’t had the time to eat anything since breakfast, and his stomach was groaning balefully. Lunchtime had come and gone.

‘I’ll be trying tae stay out o’ his way efter that press conference. It seems like a hundred years ago now.’ Scott looked reflective as Daley punched the security code into the door-entry system.

‘Sir’ – a young constable met them inside – ‘Inspector MacLeod is asking for you. He’s, well, quite upset?’

Daley winced at the intonation. ‘Where is he, son?’

‘He’s in his own office, demanding to see you the minute you get in.’

‘Tell him tae stick it up his arse,’ Scott spat.

‘No, it’s OK. I’ll go and see him in a minute. Tell him I’m on my way, son, will you?’ Daley turned to his DS. ‘Remember, Brian, Janet was his daughter.’

MacLeod was sitting behind his desk, his uniform replaced by a garish golfing jumper, replete with a large diamond pattern on a pink background. He looked tired and drawn, and had none of the arrogance so evident when they had first met.

‘I’m sorry, Charles, I’ve not had a minute since . . .’

‘It doesn’t matter, not now. Lord knows, she was hardly without sin herself.’ His Highland accent was strong. ‘Did you know, Chief Inspector, my father was a minister in the Free Church?’

‘No, I didn’t.’

‘He was ashamed enough of me.’ He looked directly at Daley.

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