Chapter 7

 

    The Thompsons live not far from Balbeg, in a large house situated off a narrow road that meanders out of town and continues off into the moors. The house has the advantage of being set in secluded surroundings, protected by shrubbery. Off to one side of the house, a substantial double garage served as their workshop.
   When the twins got back from the hotel they transferred the coffin from the hearse to their old estate car. A spade, two lengths of rope, a tarpaulin and a torch were also thrown in, together with their boots and waterproofs. They then went into the house and sat about twiddling their thumbs in the living room, listening nervously to the ticking of the clock on the mantelpiece.
   At just after nine, headlights appeared and a car turned in their gate and parked by the side of the house. The two of them jumped to their feet and stared wide-eyed at each other. A car door clunked and the doorbell rang.
   'Now who can that be at this time of the day?' asked Jock.
   'We had better go and see,' said Jimmy, in a state of some agitation.
   'Yes,' agreed Jock. 'I suppose it isn't pretending that we are not in that we can be doing.'
   Jimmy opened his mouth in puzzlement, but decided against asking his brother to repeat what he had just said.
   It was Jock that tentatively opened the door while Jimmy looked on anxiously over his shoulder.
   'Heffins!' beamed Holmes, smiling beatifically down on them even though he was a step lower than them. 'In all my years of serious detective work, I've yet to figure out a way of telling you two apart.'
   'B . . . Bob,' started Jock, looking up at the imposing sergeant. 'What on earth brings you out here at this time? It's late!'
   Jimmy stole a guilty look across the drive at their estate car. On seeing their shocked faces, Holmes smiled even more broadly, supposing that they had assumed the purpose of his visit.
   'It isn't often,' he said sternly, 'that I'm almost put into the ditch by a hearse.'
   Jimmy let out a little involuntary gasp.
   'It isn't right,' continued Holmes, 'that the living be put into the ditch by the dead. Haff you no respect for your passengers? Doesn't it occur to you that they may not be in quite as much of a hurry to get to the next life as you both obviously are to get them there?'
   'It was Jock who was driving,' said Jock, with a slight nod at his brother. 'You had best have a wee word with him about it. I've warned him often enough about it.'
   'Och you liar!' scolded Jimmy, jerking his thumb at his brother. 'It was Jimmy who was driving! Did you not notice that it was him who was driving Bob?'
   Holmes's eyes narrowed suspiciously, his detective mind telling him something wasn't quite adding up.
   'Well,' he said reflectively, his knees creaking as they bent. 'One of these days I'm going to figure out how to tell you two apart and then you had better watch out!'
   'Would you like a wee dram while you are here?' offered Jock nervously, quietly praying that Holmes wouldn't notice the coffin in the back of their car.
   'Very kind of you,' replied Holmes, putting his hand up to decline the offer. 'But I'm driving and I've already had a drink thank you.'
   'Jock could drive you—' started Jimmy, but then gasped when his brother elbowed him in the stomach.
   'Jock?' enquired Holmes. 'I thought you were Jock? Hmmmm, I had better be going home before you two drive me round the bend as well as into the ditch.'
   'Goodnight to you Bob,' said Jock, and gratefully closed the door.
   'You didn't have to nudge me so hard,' complained Jimmy, rubbing his stomach.
   'You clown,' scolded Jock. 'Offering to drive Bob home like that! And where was he going to sit? On top of the coffin?'
   'You and your bloody stupid ideas.'
   'Will you stop your swearing!'
   'I am not so sure that you are thinking clearly about this whole mess.'
   'My mind is as clear as a mountain stream,' retorted Jock.
   'With bonny trout jumping in all its pools, no doubt,' snapped Jimmy back at him.
   'Aye, and naked women bathing under its waterfalls.'
   'Oh shut up.'

   They prepared a late supper and changed into old dark clothes. As the minutes ticked slowly by, Jock glanced impatiently at the clock several times. Finally, as it approached eleven, he got up and went outside to have a look at the weather.
   'There's a change on Jimmy,' he said on returning. 'Unless I miss my guess there is some dirty weather moving in, but with any luck we should be done before it gets here. The clouds have obscured the moon, so it'll be a good dark night.'
   'Aye, a good night for the poachers,' replied Jimmy with a note of edginess. He walked over to a window and pulled back the curtains to peer outside. 'Everything appears quiet enough.'
   'Should we go now?'
   'I'll make us another cup of tea first,' said Jimmy quickly, trying to put off the dirty deed.
   'No, let's make a move. I'll get in beside the coffin and you can drive.'
   Jimmy turned and stood wringing his hands in the middle of the room, a scared look on his face.
   'I don't know about this Jock, this is all—'
   'The rain is on the way and I don't want to be caught out in it.'
   'I don't want to be caught either.'
   'Mind you,' reflected Jock, ignoring his brother's obvious discomfort, 'we would probably be much safer in a downpour. Much less chance of being seen'
   Jimmy reluctantly followed his brother to the car and then reversed it away from the side of the workshop.
   'Okay at this end,' said Jock, clambering into the back and slamming his door. 'Take it steady though, we don't want this thing sliding about.'
   Resigned now to the dark deed at hand, Jimmy drove as quietly as possible down the driveway and checked the road was clear. They were some way down the main road before he switched on the headlights. At the crossroads they went straight across, taking the road that cut across the island towards the hill at the back of John Brown's croft.

   'Can't be sure, but I think a car might be following us,' said Jock some time later while looking in the side mirror.
   Jimmy checked his rear view mirror.
   'I don't see any headlights.'
   Jock looked back over his shoulder.
   'There was definitely a car. Whoever it was must have switched their headlights off.'
   'You're hallucinating.'
   'Hmmmm, why would someone switch off their headlights on a dark night like this?'

   The single-track road was clear of late stragglers and soon they approached where they had been heading for without incident. They skirted the banks of the salmon loch near John Brown's croft and finally saw the craggy cliffs of the hill looming out of the darkness. Jimmy switched off the headlights and crept forward in a low gear. A few minutes later, he pulled off the narrow road onto the grass verge and stopped behind a fern-covered hillock.
   'Well Jock,' he whispered. 'This is as close as we're going to get.'
   'Agreed. We can't be seen from John's house here, even with our lights on, so we should be safe enough.'
   'Aye, but it is still a good two hundred yards to the grave from here.'
   'Can't be helped.'
   'It won't be easy.'
   'That's for sure, we are going to be losing some sweat, I'm thinking.'
   'We may be losing more than that.'
   'Indeed,' sighed Jock philosophically, getting out of the car.

   They placed the coffin on the grass and carefully perched the tarpaulin, ropes, spade and torch on top. After pulling on their boots, they took an end of the coffin each and started off into the moor.
   'Two hundred yards!' grunted Jimmy unhappily from the rear of the coffin when they'd only gone a few steps. 'I'm never going to make it.'
   'Just think about what will happen to us if we don't,' muttered Jock, steering erratically towards their goal.
   'I'm scared,' whispered Jimmy, becoming intensely aware of the night silence.
   'Will you wheesht man.'
   The flapping of a startled grouse almost made Jimmy drop his end of the coffin.
   'Be careful will you?' scolded Jock, stumbling over a clump of heather.
   Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked on a lonely croft.
   'Och Jock, it's the jail we'll be getting for this night's work!'
   'Let's have a wee breather,' gasped Jock, putting his end down carefully in the heather. He produced a small silver flask from his pocket, took a swig and handed it to his brother. 'Here, I thought this would come in handy.'
   'How far do you think we've come?' asked Jimmy, taking the flask eagerly.
   Jock looked back dubiously at their car, which was still clearly visible.
   'About half way I guess.'
   Jimmy didn't reply and swallowed a good mouthful of the whisky.
   'Come on then,' said Jock, crouching to take hold of his end of the coffin again. 'Let's get this finished before the rain comes.'
   'Businessman indeed!' muttered Jimmy unhappily, screwing the lid back on the flask and putting it in his pocket. 'And I wonder what Miss Ample Breasts would think if she could see you now?'
   'Will you get a move on!'
   'Are you going to call her?' asked Jimmy, struggling to lift his end of the coffin.
   'What is it to you?'
   'Just curious.'
   'Well, don't be.'
   With determination, they set off at a stagger through the moor, but it wasn't long before they laid the coffin down again and the two of them plopped down on the lid, panting heavily.
   'My arms are being pulled out of their sockets?' whispered Jimmy, using his sleeve to wipe sweat from his brow.
   'What was that?' hissed Jock, glancing around nervously at the shadows.
   'What?'
   'I heard something.'
   'Wh—'
   'Shhhhh!' hissed Jock, diving down into the heather.
   His brother landed heavily beside him, his heart beating like the pistons of a racing car. Suddenly, two dark shadows appeared over the brow of a hill, silhouetted against the night sky and tramped off across the moor, down towards the sea.
   'My Goodness!' whispered Jimmy a few moments later, taking a swig of whisky from the flask to calm his shaking hands.
   'Hurry up with that,' said Jock, reaching for the flask.
   'It's the jail we're going brother.'
   'Poachers,' explained Jock, 'it must have been poachers.'
   'Looked a bit like Roddy Morrison. Do you think they saw us?'
   'Not a chance.'
   Then, like two desperate grave robbers, they picked up the coffin and sneaked off once more into the dark moor, their legs buckling under their burden.

   When neither of them thought they could take another step, they stumbled through a gully and spotted the trees surrounding the gravesite.
   'My arms are coming out of their sockets,' groaned Jimmy.
   'Never again,' hissed Jock, in obvious distress. 'Under no circumstances will I let myself in for such a thing again. I'll go to jail and lose the business sooner than repeat this night's work.'
   When they reached the side of the grave and put the coffin down, Jimmy sat in the heather hugging his fingers.
   'Well, at least we don't have to carry him back again,' said Jock, reaching for the spade and chucking it beside his brother. 'Here, you can dig first.'
   Jimmy was too frightened to argue and climbed down awkwardly into the hole. Rolling up his sleeves, he set to work and dug at a sedate pace, placing the chunks of soft peat on the tarpaulin for his brother to haul up and empty. The hole soon deepened and it wasn't long before the spade crunched into bedrock.
   'This will have to do,' whispered Jimmy unhappily. 'Is it deep enough?'
   'It looks okay to me. It must be at least three or four feet deeper than it was.'
   Jimmy emerged from the depths, muddied and very red in the face. He stood by the coffin in silence while he got his breath back.
   'The clouds are getting awfully black,' observed Jock, surveying the moody sky.
   'There is a smell like sulphur too,' said Jimmy, sniffing the air.
   'Maybe you dug down too deep and the devil himself is coming up to see what all the commotion is about.'
   'Don't you dare mention devils, you bugger!'
   'There are sufficient words in the English language,' retorted Jock, with a scratch of his groin, 'without resorting to profanity.'
   'Aye, and it is a good job you only have one willie to scratch.'
   'Leave my willie out of this!'
   Well, it is creepy enough out here with graves and coffins and bodies without you mentioning devils.'
   They positioned the ropes under each end of the casket and slowly raised it off the ground to check for balance. Manoeuvring gingerly, they faced each other across the grave and then lowered the coffin steadily until it was at the bottom. Jimmy pulled the ropes clear while Jock took his turn on the spade and started shovelling the peat in on top. Jimmy peered dubiously down into the hole as he watched the chunks of wet peat slop to the bottom.
   'It's your turn to go down there,' he stated, when he judged the depth was about right.
   Jock muttered something unintelligible, chucked the spade to one side, then jumped down into the hole and started pressing the peat firmly underfoot. When he was satisfied that the grave looked near enough as it was before their arrival, he leaned against the side of the hole and breathed deeply.
   'Man oh man,' he gasped. 'It is a long time since I've been so knackered.'
   'Come on,' said Jimmy softly, getting to his knees and reaching down his hand to help his brother up out of the grave. 'Let's go home.'
   'When John is buried on top of him, no one will ever find him down there,' said Jock. 'I think our problems are over.'

   The twins quickly gathered their equipment and threw it over the peat still lying on the tarpaulin. Taking an end of the tarpaulin each, they carried it between them, scattering the excess chunks of peat widely as they made their weary way back to the car. As they slammed their doors, the first drops of rain hit the windscreen.
   'It is going to be a dirty night right enough,' muttered Jock, who was taking a turn at driving.
   'I suppose it is grave robbers we are now,' said Jimmy sadly. 'I always knew we would come to no good.'
   'It isn't robbing graves we are doing,' retorted Jock, 'it is filling them up.'
   'The police wouldn't know what to do with us.'
   'I doubt parliament would know what to do with us.'
   Jimmy looked at his brother in a strange way.
   'Are we criminals?'
   Jock sighed deeply again, started the engine, switched on the headlights, slipped the car into gear and headed home.

   When they parked outside the house, a distant lightning flash over the moors was closely followed by the rumble of thunder. They quickly disposed of the tarpaulin and the spade in the garage and had just gained the shelter of the house when the dark clouds made their true intentions known. Another flash of lightning and a much louder grumble of thunder accompanied the noise of the sudden downpour. A solid phalanx of raindrops beat into the ground, recoiled momentarily, then flowed like a dark tide down the driveway.
   Having slammed their front door behind them and locked it, they stripped off their dirty clothes, had a quick shower, put on their pyjamas and settled themselves in their armchairs with a comforting mug of hot chocolate each.
   'This is the first thunderstorm we've had for years,' said Jock, his mug cupped in his weary hands. 'I'm wondering if there is any significance in that?'
   'Maybe someone up there is making his displeasure known,' offered Jimmy, fingering the blisters on his hands.
   A brilliant flash of lightning lit up the room causing them both to jerk. They looked at each other uneasily as the following peal of thunder gave rise to a rattle of glass ornaments.
   'Och well,' remarked Jock glibly, watching the rain drumming against their window. 'The deed is done now.'
   'It hasn't exactly been a profitable night's work,' remarked Jimmy. 'We are a coffin out of pocket for which we shan't be paid.'
   'Aye,' sighed Jock. 'That's life I guess.'

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