Murder Solstice by Moray Keith

Author:Moray, Keith
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sapere Books
Published: 2018-04-26T00:00:00+00:00

The Padre had felt pretty miserable after finding Finlay MacNeil’s body and had gone back to the church to say a prayer for him before having a few holes on the golf course to calm his nerves. He was kneeling before the altar when he heard the door open and footsteps as if someone had entered and was letting their eyes adjust to the dimly lit church interior.

He turned in time to see a white hoodie-clad figure retreat through the door and pull it after them. He felt sure that it was the girl Johanna, whom he had met the other day. He smiled and returned to his prayers, content to think that she found his church worthy of a second visit.

And yet as he finished and thanked the Lord for listening to him, his eye fell on Eilthireach, the Pilgrim Stone, and as he surveyed the ancient carvings upon it, his mind turned again to Finlay.

‘You knew as much about these strange markings as anyone, didn’t you, old friend?’ he mused, feeling strangely close to his old golfing partner as he did so. ‘I wonder if you ever actually translated their meaning.’ He sighed as he broke free from the spell of the stone and turned to leave. ‘Perhaps you never did. And maybe that is why Logan Burns at The Daisy Institute bothered you so much. Perhaps he actually has.’

Collecting his waiting clubs from the porch he headed off to the course and played the ninth, then the short fifth before cutting across to play the eighth, his intention being to finish off with the ninth then pop back to the manse. He was one over par as he stood on the tee, debating whether to go for his usual two-wood or go for the big one with a driver. With a click of the tongue he decided on the driver and teed the ball appropriately high. After a couple of practice swings he set up and drove, trying for extra length. But, as so often happened when he tried to force a few extra yards, he pulled the shot. It started travelling to the right of the fairway then curved back to roll some 270 yards from the tee in the light rough. Unfortunately, it was almost directly behind the ancient standing stone that they called Carragh, the Pillar.

‘Oh man, that is just where Finlay was when we last played,’ he mumbled morosely to himself as he struck a light to his pipe and ambled up the fairway.

By the time he reached it he had quite lost the taste for his pipe and tapped it out on the side of the stone as he absently inspected the lie of his ball. There was no way that he could clear the Pillar so he pulled out his seven iron with the intention of chipping out sideways. His eye fell again on the wavy lines and whorls of the ancient carving on the stone and he felt his spirits sink.

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