Chapter 13

 

   Sergeant Holmes pulled up outside Roddy Morrison's house in a police car and switched off the engine. He turned to a young uniformed constable who was with him and offered some fatherly advice.
   'Now then Tom, if he is home, please let me handle this,' he said, his voice warm, but authoritative. 'I've known the man since we were at school together.'
   'Of course,' replied the constable quietly, his eyes narrowing as he surveyed the old house.
   Holmes rapped loudly on the heavy wooden front door which hadn't seen paint in many years and was rotting along the bottom.
   'There should be a law against doors without knockers,' he complained, nursing his knuckles.
   The constable cocked his head to one side. There was a coldness about the place that made him uncomfortable.
   'Strange,' said Holmes, looking over towards the front windows.
   He knocked again, louder this time, clenching his fist tightly to minimise the damage to his reddening knuckles.
   'I'm thinking the water bailiff's story is going to hold some weight,' remarked the constable quietly.
   'We shouldn't jump to conclusions.'
   'Dundas is a good man and I believe his story.'
   'Aye, he's a good man right enough, and not one to be making up nonsense, but other than a drenching and a few bruises, there wasn't much the matter with him.'
   The constable looked up at the tall sergeant.
   'He wasn't lying, of that I'm sure.'
   Holmes assumed the posture of a misunderstood philanthropist.
   'Perhaps, but there is a big difference between attempted murder and assault. Now where do you suppose that Roddy Morrison could be?'
   'We should try the neighbours.'
   'Yes, let's start with Mrs Munro.'

   Janet Munro surveyed them dourly from behind the protection afforded by her front door.
   'Hello, Mrs Munro,' smiled Holmes. 'May we come in?'
   'And what would you be wanting with me?' she asked doubtfully. 'My children are not old enough to be getting into trouble with the police.'
   'It's concerning Roddy Morrison.'
   'Roddy?' she whispered, fear creeping into her voice.
   'Yes, haff you seen him lately?'
   'No,' she lied, her face reddening.
   Holmes blundered on.
   'Please Mrs Mun—'
   'I've not seen him! Now I'm busy, will you please leave me alone.'
   She made to shut her door.
   'But—'
   'It's okay Mrs Munro,' smiled the constable warmly. 'Roddy was involved in a fight last night and we just want to ask him a few questions is all, but we can't find him.'
   Mrs Munro was clearly uncomfortable and peered out uncertainly at them from behind her half closed door.
   'When was the last time you saw him?' asked Holmes.
   'Yesterday.'
   Holmes reached into the breast pocket of his uniform for his little black book, opened it to a fresh page and clicked the top of a cheap pen.
   'And what time would that have been?'
   A wild panic came into her eyes.
   'I . . . I'm not sure. Sometime in the afternoon I think it was.'
   Holmes surveyed her quietly and scratched his temple with the end of the pen.
   'Do you know where he is now?' asked the constable gently, letting her off the hook.
   'Is he not at home?' she asked, now very scared.
   'You've not seen him today then?'
   'No, no I haven't.'
   'Thank you Mrs Munro,' smiled the constable. 'If you see him, would you let us know?'
   'Yes, of course.'
   She managed a weak smile in return as she gratefully closed her door.
   Holmes stared at the clean page in his black notebook, then with a sigh closed it and slipped it back into his pocket.
   'Is something the matter sergeant?' asked the constable, trying to hide a smile as they got in the car and fastened their seat belts.
   'I would have thought,' said Holmes irritably, 'that an experienced policeman such as yourself would have been a little more perceptive.'
   'Whatever do you mean?' replied the constable, his smile becoming noticeable.
   'Didn't you see she was lying? It is a policeman's job to notice such basic things.'
   'Of course I knew. And if you don't mind me saying so sergeant, I'm thinking you have a lot to learn about women.'
   Holmes surveyed him dourly.
   'And just what do you mean by that?'
   'She is having an affair with Morrison.'
   Holmes took a few moments to absorb this scandalous information.
   'That's ridiculous!' he retorted, putting the car into gear and pulling away.
   'She wasn't lying when she said she didn't know where he was.'
   'Okay, agreed on that point. But having an affair with the man?'
   'Morrison was at Janet's house last night.'
   'What!'
   The back end of the police car slithered to one side as Holmes scrunched to a halt on the single track road. A few startled sheep looked up from their grazing and then ran off into the moor. Holmes looked across at the constable as if he were an alien.
   'And just what is so amusing?' muttered Holmes darkly.
   The constable stifled his mirth and indicated to the dashboard display.
   'We should get some petrol and fill up the tank,' he said. 'This could be a long day.'
   'We are going back for another little talk with Mrs Munro first,' retorted Holmes, slamming the car into reverse.
   'Och sergeant, I don't think that would be a good idea.'
   'Oh don't you now?' The car bounced roughly on the verge as it was manhandled through a tight three point turn. 'And why not?'
   The constable sighed as they sped off back along the narrow road.

   Janet Munro was not at all happy to see them again.
   'Did you forget something?' she asked suspiciously.
   Her two young children peered up the two imposing men from the folds of her long skirt.
   'Hello Janet,' smiled Holmes. 'May we come in?'
   She hesitated and then stood back to allow them into her kitchen. A couple of saucepans with rattling lids bubbled away on an old cooker.
   'Mmmm,' said the constable. 'Something smells wonderful.'
   'Have you found Roddy yet?' asked Mrs Munro, ushering them to the kitchen table.
   Holmes shook his head.
   'And how do you think I can help?'
   Her son tugged at her long skirt.
   'I'm hungry mummy.'
   'Hello Michael,' greeted Holmes, easing a chair out from under the kitchen table and seating himself. 'You must be nearly eight now. And how are you finding school?'
   'I was about to give the children their lunch,' said Mrs Munro. 'Would you like a cup of tea? Children, will you please sit at the table.'
   Michael jumped into a chair and grinned up stupidly at the two policemen.
   'Yes, a cup of tea would be very nice,' smiled Holmes. 'And how are you young Mary?'
   As Mrs Munro served the food, her daughter pulled a long face.
   'I'm not hungry,' she said unhappily.
   'Oh Mary, of course you are,' said her mother.
   Mary pulled an even longer face as her brother stabbed a chunk of meat with his fork and stuffed it into his mouth.
   'What is the matter with you girl?' sighed Mrs Munro in exasperation.
   Mary's bottom lip began to tremble and tears welled up in her eyes. Mrs Munro crouched down and put an arm round her daughter's shoulders.
   'What is it Mary?' she asked in a soft voice. 'I've never seen you like this before.'
   'Meat is animals,' blubbed Mary.
   'Yes?' replied her mother, waiting for her to explain.
   The girl turned and buried her head in her mother's shoulder and begged her not to force her to eat her lunch.
   'That bloody school!' hissed Mrs Munro. 'The children are forever coming home with crap in their heads from that damnable place.'
   'I may be able to help,' smiled the constable.
   'I'm going to see the headmaster!' said Mrs Munro emphatically. 'I've had quite enough. Their job is to educate, not indoctrinate.'
   Tom leaned across the table.
   'Would you like to hear a story Mary?'
   She sniffed and looked up at him with big teary eyes.
   'It's a story about a cute wee baby bunny rabbit called Billy. One day Billy and his brothers and sisters decided it was time to venture outside their rabbit hole for the first time. Come on Billy! shouted his brother excitedly, hopping towards the tunnel leading outside. It's time we went exploring!
   Billy was more than a little nervous.
   Yes, come on Billy! tittered his two sisters behind him, egging him on as they also hopped towards the tunnel.
   I . . . I . . . stuttered Billy.
   Oh don't be such a scaredy bunny, laughed his brother, disappearing up the tunnel.
   Billy washed his face with his paws and turned to his sisters.
   Are you going outside too?
   They nodded and waited for him to lead the way. Billy steeled himself, plucked up his courage and hopped up the tunnel. When he poked his head outside their rabbit hole, he blinked in the bright sunshine. His two sisters gazed over his shoulder, gasping in wonder.
   Billy! shouted his brother, jumping around playfully on a patch of grass beside a stream. Come on!
   With a little whoop, Billy hopped out of their hole and kicked his heels. His sisters giggled as Billy scampered down to the banks of the stream. No one noticed the shadow lurking in one of the bushes. The first Billy knew of it was when the leaves rustled.
   His sisters screamed.
   Billy!
   He tried to run, but sharp teeth closed around his neck. He yelped and then everything went black.'
   Mary gasped and looked up at the constable in horror.
   'Who got Billy?' asked Michael breathlessly.
   'Michael!' scolded his mother. 'How many times have I told you not to put your knife in your mouth?'
   'Would you like to know what happened next?' asked Tom.
   The two children nodded vigorously.
   'Well, there was a young fox cub called Freddy and he lived in a den with his sister. It was warm and cosy in the den and he wasn't long up. His little tummy rumbled because he was hungry. He wished his mum would hurry up and come home with some dinner.
   I'm going to get you! said his sister, eyeing him as she prowled round the den.
   Oh yeah? he replied, flexing his paws.
   Yeah! she bellowed, leaping on him.
   The suddenness of the attack rolled Freddy over onto his back and his sister bit into the soft fur of his neck, pretending to worry him.
   Oi, stop that! growled Freddy, trying to push her off with his paws.
   His sister sat back on her haunches, her front feet pawing the air.
   That'll teach you! she growled.
   Is that right? said Freddy, bowling into her.
   The two of them rolled about the den, growling in fun.
   And let that be a lesson to you, said Freddy, finally getting on top of her and nuzzling his nose into her soft tummy.
   Don't tickle! she laughed, pawing at him helplessly.
   Suddenly, there was a scuffling outside and the two of them scampered up the passage to the mouth of the den. They blinked and looked around. A man with a rucksack on his back wandered by and disappeared into the forest. Soon everything was quiet again. A butterfly flittered onto a nearby bush and settled on a flower. Freddy let out a little yap to scare it and made his sister laugh.
   I'm getting hungry, said Freddy.
   They snuggled up together and lay down on their paws to wait for their mother.
   Just then, they spotted her sauntering along the other side of the stream. She crawled under a dead fallen tree to watch the den for a while, to make sure she hadn't been followed.
   Quick! hissed Freddy. Let's get back into the den before she sees us!
   His sister laughed as they scampered back down the passage.
   And what do you two think you were playing at? asked their mother, striding into the den, a rabbit hanging limply in her mouth.'
   'That's Billy!' exclaimed Michael triumphantly.
   'That's right,' said Tom, gratefully accepting a mug of steaming tea.
   'What happened next?'
   The constable continued the story.
   'Freddy and his sister bounded up to meet their mother, their tails wagging.
   Hi mummy! they said together.
   What have I told you about going outside? she scolded.
   Outside? said Freddy innocently.
   Outside? laughed his sister.
   Oh, you two! smiled their mother, dropping the rabbit for them.
   The two youngsters pounced on the rabbit and ripped into him with their sharp teeth.
   This is gorgeous, sighed Freddy happily, his mouth full of soft tender meat.
   Don't talk with your mouth full, scolded his mother, curling up with her tired head on her paws.
   It had been a long hunt and she soon fell asleep. Freddy tore another chuck of meat from the dead rabbit.
   When the cubs had finished eating, they lay down, gnawing at the juicy bones, their eyelids getting drowsy.
   I love rabbit, sighed Freddy.
   His sister snuggled in beside him and soon fell asleep, her little tummy warm and full.
   Freddy, however, couldn't sleep. Instead, he lay for a while and wondered where the man they had seen walking through the forest had been going. His curiosity got the better of him and a few minutes later, when he was sure his mother and sister were fast asleep, he padded silently up to the mouth of the den and peered outside. His adventurous spirit stirred within him and he ran up the bank behind the den for a look around. But he wasn't watching where he was going. At the top, he lost his footing on loose scree and tumbled down a steep gully on the other side. A dark shape flew out of the sky, and the sharp talons of an eagle pierced his skin.'
   'Oh nooooooooo!' exclaimed Mary.
   Mrs Munro and Holmes exchanged funny looks.
   Tom took another sip of his tea before continuing.
   'The eagle had a nest at the top of a cliff out in the hills, and she had two little baby eagles called Eddy and Gilbert. While they were waiting for their mummy to come home with something to eat, Gilbert pushed his brother roughly, trying to pick a fight.
   Watch it you, or I'll peck your lights out, said Eddy.
   Oh yeah? scoffed Gilbert, ruffling his feathers indignantly.
   Eddy stretched his wings and flapped them irritably.
   I'm starvin!
   Just then, their mother soared round the cliff face and flapped up towards the eyrie.
   About time too, said Gilbert, sharpening his talons on a rock.
   There you go boys, said their mother, settling down with a wide sweep of her wings.
   The fox cub in her claws squealed as her powerful talons sank into its neck.
   I'm having the eyeballs! said Eddy, pecking at the cub.
   You always get the eyes, moaned Gilbert, making a stab for one of them with his beak.
   Oi, you two, cut it out, scolded their mother, holding onto the cub until she was sure it was dead. You can have one eyeball each.'
   Mary shoved her face into her hands and peeked out in horror from between her fingers.
   Michael gaped at him.
   Tom hurried on with the story.
   'This is the second time we've had fox this week, moaned Gilbert. Can't you find any rabbits or lambs?
   Quit complaining about the food, scolded his mother, giving him a feathery cuff round the ear.
   It wasn't long before Freddy was just a pile of picked bones.
   I'm going for a fly, whooped Gilbert suddenly, who ran to the edge of the rocky ledge and soared off into the sky.
   It annoyed Eddy that his brother could fly and he couldn't. Well, today he was going to fly!
   Hey Eddy! shouted his mother as he jumped off the cliff. Be careful!
   But he was gone.
   Eddy flapped as hard as he could, but he was going down fast. This flying thing wasn't quite as simple as it looked.
   Stretch your wings out! shouted his mother, from the top of the cliff. Stretch your wings out!
   Stuff that, hissed Eddy, flapping like a maniac.
   Haw haw haw, laughed his brother, flying around him in circles.
   Eddy didn't have time to shout anything back. The ground was coming up fast. He thumped onto the heathery hillside and the breath was knocked out of him. He was so winded and dazed, he didn't see the cat stalking up the hill.'
   'What cat?' asked Mary warily.
   'His name was Oscar.'
   'Did he get Eddy?' asked Michael.
   'Yes, he caught poor Eddy and then strutted home proudly with a tattered mess of feathers in his mouth.'
   'Wow,' sighed Michael, 'Billy got et by Freddy, Freddy got et by Eddy, and Eddy got et by Oscar!'
   Tom nodded and continued.
   'Oscar couldn't wait to show off his prize to his lady owner. Boy, was she in for a big surprise! But it was a long walk back to the lonely farmhouse he lived in, and the sun was going down when he got there. Dragging the dead bird with him, he clattered in through the cat flap and headed for the living room.
   You know, it's just terrible, said his lady owner from the living room, deep in conversation.
   Just awful, agreed her friend.
   Yes, people shouldn't eat meat, she said. It's just wrong!
   Her friend suddenly jumped up with her hands at her mouth.
   Oscar! hissed the lady. What have you done?
   Oscar sat back and looked up at the two distraught women.
   What silly creatures? he thought, as he picked up the dead bird and wandered outside to scoff his dinner in peace.'
   'Wow!' said Michael, sticking his fork into the last piece of meat in his stew and turning it around a few times, studying it.
   'So Mary,' said Tom gently. 'Is it okay for foxes to eat rabbits?'
   She nodded.
   'And is it okay for eagles to eat foxes?'
   She nodded again.
   'And is it okay for cats to eat birds?'
   Her solemn eyes looked deeply into his for a few moments before she nodded again.
   'Then there's no problem is there?' he smiled. 'It's perfectly natural. You just enjoy your lunch.'
   Not at all sure what to make of all this, Mrs Munro gave her daughter a cuddle and then led the two men towards the living room.
   'And how can I help you?' she asked when they were alone, keeping her voice down so the children wouldn't hear.
   'Do you know where Roddy is Janet?' asked Holmes. 'It's very important.'
   'Is it true he tried to murder the water bailiff?'
   'We haff to find him.'
   'He was here last night.'
   'What time?'
   'It was about ten o'clock, I'm not sure.'
   'And when did he leave?'
   She looked frightened.
   'Don't worry Janet, I promise your name will not be coming up again. This isn't about you, this is about finding Roddy. I promise you, your name will not be mentioned.'
   'About ten minutes later.'
   'Do you know where he went?'
   'Aye, I watched him going into Old Graham's. That's all I know.'
   She looked up into the two policemen's eyes and held their gaze before ushering them back to the kitchen. As they left, Mary tentatively pulled a small piece of meat from her fork with her teeth and started chewing.

   Old Graham's house was on the next croft on the other side of the road, so they left their car where it was and walked the short distance to his gate.
   'Hello Graham,' smiled Holmes, when he answered his door. 'May we come in?'
   Old Graham grunted and stood to one side.
   Holmes stepped into the cool of the kitchen and sensed the constable was immediately on his guard.
   Old Graham pointed to the table, but there was no warmth in his grunt. Holmes declined the offer and remained near the open door.
   'We were looking for Roddy Morrison. Have you seen him?'
   Old Graham scowled and shook his head.
   Holmes felt a shiver go down his spine. There was a cold ruthlessness about the man he didn't like.
   'Well, if you see him, would you please let us know?'
   Old Graham nodded.
   The two policemen nodded in reply with little smiles, before quickly stepping outside again and closing the door behind them.

   'Well Tom, you were right about Mrs Munro,' murmured Holmes in bemusement as they climbed back into their car.
   'Something is seriously wrong,' said the constable. 'Old Graham knows something about Roddy, that's for sure.'
   Holmes sat behind the wheel for a few reflective moments before starting the engine and driving off.
   'I was thinking of asking a girl out on a date,' said the constable eventually.
   'Sounds like a good plan,' nodded Holmes.
   'Have you a girlfriend sergeant?'
   'No, I find the policing tends to keep the young ladies at arms length.'
   'I'm not sure how a woman would find this job,' said the constable. 'We work funny hours sometimes, and I wouldn't be able to always tell her what I was doing.'
   'That worries you?'
   'A little. Why don't you have a woman in your life sergeant?'
   Holmes lapsed into silence, clearly uncomfortable with the conversation.
   'Tell me,' he said at length, changing the subject. 'How did you know Roddy Morrison was at Mrs Munro's house last night?'
   'More to the point, are you afraid of women?'
   Holmes looked across at the constable, somewhat startled by the question.
   'Afraid?'
   'Yes, you should ask a young lady out.'
   Holmes sighed.
   'Are you an authority on them?'
   'Not really, but I know a thing or two.'
   'Oh you do hey? Hmmm, and if someone dropped a pair of knickers in through your living room window one night while you were sleeping, what would you suppose that meant?'
   'It would mean,' said the constable with a laugh, 'that I was probably getting married.'
   The car swerved violently as Holmes misjudged the next corner and they almost went off the road.

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