Sanctuary Isle (Thane & Moss Book 5) by Bill Knox

Author:Bill Knox [Knox, Bill]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Zertex Crime
Published: 2024-06-25T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

The MacPherson home was a small crofter cottage clinging to the scanty shelter of a hollow high on the hillside above the village. The police Jaguar bumped over a rough track for about a mile in protesting bottom gear, then stopped a few yards from the little heather-thatched house.

Willie MacPherson led the way to the low-set door, Thane and Moss following. Davidson had decided to remain with what he considered the more practical business of questioning the crew of the fishing boat when it reached harbour.

The boatman threw open the croft door and gave a piercing whistle.

‘Hey, Mother! Your son is home—and I’ve got the polis wi’ me!’

From inside the house, there was a muffled exclamation followed by a massive clatter of pots and pans. A shrill voice was raised in what Thane imagined must be an unusually pungent outburst in the native Gaelic tongue, and the grin on Willie MacPherson’s face as he listened, decided him against asking for an English translation.

A small plump figure bustled through.

Mrs MacPherson had a white apron tied round her middle, was dressed in a knitted wool dress of doubtful vintage, and had a light of battle in her deep-set pale blue eyes.

‘Whateffer it is, Willie, say nothing till we haff got the lawyer down from Oban⁠—’

‘Och, I’m not in trouble this time,’ soothed her son. ‘At least I was, but I’m not, if you know what I mean.’

‘Then why are you not playing at the dance?’ she skirled. ‘Dressed up there like a bantam rooster looking for a midden! And who are these two anyway? They are not Davidson’s men.’

MacPherson handled the introductions. ‘The big one is Chief Inspector Thane, and the wee one is Inspector Moss, the ones I told you about, up from the city to find out who killed Captain Tinemann.’

‘Humph.’ She looked them up and down. ‘They haff been taking their time about it, too, from all accounts. Well, come inside.’

Meekly, they followed her through the short dark hallway and into the big, airy kitchen beyond, a room which obviously served for living, eating, and cooking combined. Sparkling clean throughout, burnished metal pots gleaming on their hooks, a peat fire flickering its slow-burning flame in the black iron grate, it made a homely setting—and was not quite what Thane had expected.

‘Now then, you—the tall one—what has Willie been up to this time?’ she demanded. ‘Not that he is admitting anything, mind you, just that I want to know.’

‘I was able to help him out of a little spot of bother,’ said Thane, going over and standing with his back to the fire. ‘It’s over and done with, whatever happens. But you might be able to help me, Mrs MacPherson; help me solve a murder.’

‘Me? You’re havering!’

Her son shook his head. ‘He means it, Mother, something to do with the folktales, though I haven’t understood why myself yet.’

‘Well, well.’ She was immediately interested. ‘First, you’ll be having a wee drink—and no nonsense about being on duty. Eh, Willie—’ She glanced anxiously towards her son.

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