Chapter 19

 

   Later that evening, Jock and Jimmy pushed through the door into the lounge bar of the Hotel. Patrick O'Hare was already there and greeted them from his stool with a raised hand.
   'Well my friends,' he smiled pleasantly, motioning for a round of drinks, 'has your day been any better than its predecessor?'
   'Twice as bad as yesterday,' said Jock coldly.
   'Doubly so,' agreed Jimmy.
   O'Hare was about to say something, thought better of it, and just then Bob Holmes wandered in.
   'Well, if it isn't our police sergeant,' grinned O'Hare, his eyes lighting up mischievously.
   The Thompsons exchanged nervous glances.
   'Come on in to the body of the kirk, you itinerant pedaller of bookings,' greeted O'Hare as Holmes wandered over. 'Place your backside on that stool there and compress your brains.'
   'And how is school life?' asked Holmes, graciously accepting the offer of a half of lager.
   'Ah, school life,' mused O'Hare disconsolately. 'Hard as I try to imbue our youth with an enthusiasm for my subjects, I find their interests usually lie elsewhere, more often than not in the attributes displayed in class by members of the opposite sex. I can't compete with nature.'
   Holmes laughed and then turned to the Thompsons, a concerned crease etched across his forehead.
   'Are you two okay?' he asked, noting the dark rims under their eyes.
   'Just not been sleeping very well Bob,' said Jock heavily.
   'His snoring has been keeping us both awake,' lied Jimmy, not very convincingly.
   Jock gave his brother a hard stare that told him in no uncertain terms to leave all the talking to him. Jimmy pretended not to notice and took a mouthful of beer. Jock turned to O'Hare, looking to change the subject.
   'Have you any fresh poetry Donald?'
   O'Hare brightened and sat up on his stool.
   'Oh yes,' he smiled, 'however, that people actually wish to hear the rubbish I churn out does surprise me.'
   'Rubbish?' exclaimed Jimmy in surprise. 'Everyone on the island loves your work.'
   'What I'd like to know is where you find the time to compose them!' quipped Holmes, hoping nothing was coming his way.
   'The ideas usually come while I'm in class,' whispered O'Hare, keeping his voice down. 'My subconscious gets busy and before long there is something like a finished idea in my head. I then have to write it down before it escapes me. Don't mention this to the headmaster, will you? He wouldn't be well pleased.'
   'So you do have something?' said Jock, jumping at the chance to shift focus away from him and his brother.
   'I was drafting a piece this very afternoon,' said O'Hare, 'but I've not had time to finish it properly.'
   'Can we hear it?'
   'It's very rough. Hmm, okay, draw closer.'
   They gathered round as O'Hare extracted a few sheets of paper from the inside pocket of his tweed jacket. He glanced round the bar to make sure no one else was in earshot before reciting in a soft, west coast accent.

   On an island not far from the Scottish west coast
   Lived Donald MacDonald, whose pride and whose boast
   Was a whisky produced on his croft by the sea,
   Which was famous from Tiumpan Head down to Tiree;
   With a flavour so smooth and a colour so rich
   That in whisky producing he'd carved his own niche.
   Although Donald was using an illegal still
   He was able to distill the whisky at will,
   For the constable stationed on that little isle
   Had been a customer for quite a long while.
   The distilling went on like clockwork I'm told,
   With no problem thereafter in getting it sold;
   He transported a lot to the mainland each week,
   And his market extended from Oban to Wick.
   His whisky distilling become known in due course,
   As the police were informed - an anonymous source;
   The inspector, when told, gave a shake of his head
   And decided he'd check it himself, then he said,
   'I'll leave you here sergeant for the rest of the day,
   As we must stop this illicit distilling right away,
   So I'm off to the isles to repress this offence,
   But I'm thinking myself that it's not making sense,
   As Sergeant Bob Holmes is stationed out there
   And he would not permit this pernicious affair.'
   Then he telephoned Bob to tell him the score,
   And he said he'd arrive the next day, by four;
   His experience, he added, was more than a match
   For a bootlegger running a still on his patch.
   With that Bob decided he'd no time to lose,
   Went directly to Donald to tell him the news;
   'Take it easy,' said Donald, 'I'm not rumbled yet,
   The inspector will know who's the culprit, I'll bet,
   But in college, in Glasgow, I earned my degree,
   And my qualification is psychology.
   Rest assured, on the morrow all will be just right,
   Sit you down, have a dram, we have got the whole night.'
   So the next afternoon the inspector arrived,
   He was really quite tired, but he quickly revived
   When the constable gave him a large dram to drink,
   Which went straight down his gullet, before you could blink.
   After smacking his lips he said, 'That was just grand,
   And is much better whisky than on the mainland.'
   At which Bob said nothing, he couldn't you see,
   For the dram was from Donald's distillery.
   The inspector then said, 'I've been given the name
   Of a Donald Macdonald, the one who's to blame
   For producing this whisky illegally,
   So we'll go to his house and we'll have a look-see.'
   When they got to the croft they knocked at the door,
   'Ah good evening,' said Donald, who knew well the score.
   Have a seat in the livingroom, there by the fire,
   And now what can I do for you, may I enquire?'
   'It's like this,' said the constable, tongue in his cheek,
   'The inspector has come from the mainland to seek
   Out a man who is making an illicit brew,
   Information received indicates that it's you.'
   'Oh my word! Is that so?' exclaimed Donald in fear,
   'You can search the whole house. There's no whisky here.'
   He was sure of his ground, because Bob and he
   Overnight had secreted a large quantity.
   Then the house was gone over, from bottom to top;
   At the end of the search there was found not a drop.
   The inspector was fuming and knew he'd been tricked,
   But in all his long service he'd never been licked.
   'Now then Donald,' he said, 'you'll be charged with this crime,
   You've been breaking the law, and you'll surely do time
   For producing this whisky, the worm is here,
   With the boiler and pipes. Man, you've got all the gear!'
   'Well inspector,' said Donald, 'if that is the case,
   What you're charging me with is just quite out of place,
   Because on the same basis just book me, pro tem,
   For molesting young females and ravishing them.'
   At that Bob looked startled and jerked up his head,
   And he stared in amazement at Donald and said,
   'Man now Donald, I've known you a while
   But molesting young females is just not your style.'
   'But look here,' replied Donald, 'my guilt is quite clear,'
   As he lifted his kilt, 'see I've got all the gear.'

   O'Hare ended amid a roar of laughter. Even the Thompsons managed a smile of sorts. Everyone else in the lounge bar looked over enquiringly. Holmes however didn't laugh, but acknowledged the poem with a raise of his glass.
   'On another note,' smiled O'Hare, obviously pleased with the response, 'I'm reliably informed that Rory breezed in here this morning, downed a double of the best whisky and thereafter drank fruit juice.'
   'My goodness!' exclaimed Jock.
   'It would be nice if he dried out,' nodded Jimmy with some warmth. 'We were friends in school, you know.'
   'I don't suppose anyone has heard anymore about Roddy Morrison?' asked Holmes, watching the Thompson's for a reaction.
   Jimmy shook his head and quickly stuck his mouth into his beer to hide his guilt.
   Holmes frowned, his suspicions growing by the minute.
   'Maybe he's been drowned in a bog,' said Jock quickly. 'The moors are treacherous at night and we all know what a poacher he was.'
   'I'm thinking,' said O'Hare with deep concern, 'that perhaps Jock could be right. He was known to be taking the half bottle with him on his little nightly expeditions, and there is that bad bog between his croft and the sea.'
   Holmes's eyebrows creased as he tried to make sense of what he was hearing. He knew the Thompson's were hiding something, but what it could be was quite beyond him
   'That could be it, right enough,' agreed Jimmy.
   Holmes acknowledged the truth of what was being said, but didn't believe a word of it.
   'Oh come now, Bob,' retorted O'Hare, 'don't be so quick to discount the possibilities. What other logical reason can you come up with for his disappearance? Do you think the Thompsons have quietly despatched him and secreted him away in one of their coffins?'
   Jock glanced nervously at his brother, who avoided his eye. Holmes noticed their guilty exchange and his frown creased even more heavily. Sensing Holmes's growing suspicion, Jock downed his drink and nodded to his brother.
   'We'd better be going Jimmy; we have things to be doing.'
   'At this time of night?' queried Holmes.
   'I think you've been at the policing too long,' replied Jock. 'You're beginning to see shadows in the shadows.'
   'Am I Indeed?'
   Just then Mary breezed into the lounge bar with a beautiful smile. Jock pulled up with a pained expression.
   'Oh Mary!' he said sadly, we were just leaving.
   'So early?' she replied.
   'I'm sorry, we have work to do.'
   Jimmy caught her eye and quickly looked away, his cheeks reddening.
   'Hmmm,' mused Mary, seeing Jimmy blush, 'so, you must be Jock's brother. Have we met before?'
   'N n no,' stammered Jimmy, trying to lift his eyes.
   'Well, never mind,' said Mary with a nod, knowing full well it had been Jimmy she had kissed in the workshop earlier. She then smiled at Holmes. 'Would you please keep me company this evening then Bob?' she asked demurely.
   Holmes seemed taken aback.
   'I, er, well, yes, what would you like to drink?' he asked, a smile creeping across his face.
   The Thompson's looked at each other, then at Mary and Holmes. She smiled sweetly at them and wished them a good evening. And with that, the Thompsons quickly left the bar and walked out into the night.

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