Chapter 27

 

   The hum of conversation from the lounge bar of the hotel was so loud it could be heard outside in the car park. Word of Morrison's death and Old Graham's subsequent arrest had the whole island clamouring for news. James Cameron was tending the bar that morning and he smiled to himself as the doors to his hotel clattered open and yet more folks pushed their way to the crowded bar. He motioned to one of the girls he had hastily commandeered from the kitchen to help out and she went to open the doors to the adjacent dining room so it could be used for extra seating.
   Perched on his bar stool at the far end of the bar, O'Hare glanced round the packed lounge and raised his glass to John, Dugal and the Thompsons.
   'Here's to poor Roddy,' he toasted with a touch of sadness in his voice, 'despite his many failings, he was, after all, one of us.'
   'What goes around comes around,' said John Brown philosophically.
   'You didn't particularly like him, did you?' said O'Hare.
   'Have you no respect for the dead John?' asked Jimmy.
   'Respect is something one earns,' countered John. 'The act of dying does not in and of itself command respect, in my opinion, as it requires no brains or talent whatsoever. Respect is earned with what one does with their life. I had no respect for him while he was living and I don't see how his dying changes anything.'
   Dugal couldn't help himself and actually laughed.
   'Callous old bastard,' muttered Jock
   'That's rich coming from you,' said John, raising his glass.
   'Pardon me?'
   John leaned over and whispered in his ear.
   'There is still a body unaccounted for.'
   Jock gave him a nervous look, which didn't go unnoticed.
   'What's up?' asked O'Hare, raising an eyebrow.
   Jock and Jimmy passed a look between them that clearly indicated that he was not to pursue the conversation.
   'Instead of commiserating over Roddy,' said John, 'have any of you spared a thought for Old Graham?'
   They all stared at him.
   'As I recall,' said Jock, 'it isn't that long ago that you and Dugal thought Jimmy and I were the murderers.'
   'You thought it was us!' barked Dugal.
   'Is it any wonder?' burst in Jimmy. 'Traipsing around the moors at night lugging coffins everywhere.'
   'Now now, my friends,' said O'Hare gently. 'I can see there is much more going on here beneath the surface than it would appear.'
   'That be as it may,' retorted John, ignoring them all and getting back to his point, 'but the fact that we are all here drinking to a dead scoundrel instead of thinking about Old Graham I find quite concerning.'
   Just then Mary pushed into the bar. She beamed brightly when she spotted Jock, but her smile was replaced with a quizzical expression and then a frown when she saw Jimmy standing beside him.
   'Hello Mary,' greeted Jimmy, his face reddening a little.
   He looked deeply into her eyes and felt his knees go weak. She seemed to notice and her voice softened.
   'Ah,' she replied, 'you must be Jimmy.'
   'You can tell us apart?' asked Jock incredulously.
   'Not from appearance,' she said mysteriously.
   Jock opened his mouth to say something, but closed it again when he noticed his brother's reddening cheeks.
   Mary sidled over beside Jimmy.
   'How are you?' she asked with a knowing smile. 'It is good to see you again.'
   'Excuse me?' said Jock, 'and are you not glad to see me again?'
   Mary threw him a smile, but said nothing.
   O'Hare realised a quick change of topic was called for.
   'By the way,' said O'Hare, 'I came across an item this morning.' He slipped a folded sheet of paper from the inside pocket of his tweed jacket and carefully unfolded it. 'I had consigned this to a drawer some months ago,' he continued, 'but having read it again I was surprised to find that it now seemed rather better than it did when I first wrote it. I have amended it here and there, though the result is, even with the improvements, still disappointing.'
   'What is it about?' asked Mary.
   'An old crofter from the Western Isles who won a small fortune on the lottery which landed him in a pickle of bother.'
   'Intriguing,' said John, raising an eyebrow.
   'Sounds interesting,' agreed Jimmy.
   'Yes, let's hear it,' said Dugal.
   'Well, so be it,' said O'Hare hesitantly, wondering if he could do his piece justice over the hum of pulsating conversation reverberating through the lounge. 'Here's hoping you won't be disappointed.'

   Have you heard of John Brown, from the Isles of the West,
   Who at three-score-and-ten with treasure was blessed?
   It came out of the blue, when he was really quite old,
   For he bought a ticket which landed him gold.
   'Well well,' said the neighbours, 'you're now a rich man;
   At your age you have reached your allotted life span,
   We are greatly concerned that the fortune you've won
   Will bring nothing but trouble and grief to you John.'
   He replied, 'Yes, I thought that today,
   But tomorrow you'll find, I'll be on my way;
   I'm betaking myself to the bright city lights,
   And in Stornoway town I'll be spending some nights.
   While I'm there I shall think what to do with my wealth,
   For although I'm now old, I've still got my health.'
   On the ferry old John, on the morrow set off,
   Clad in tweeds, with tweed cap, he looked like a toff,
   When they docked he was amazed by the sounds and the sights
   And went to a Hotel, where he booked for the night.
   He was ushered upstairs and along the first floor,
   And his room had a Hundred and Two on its door.
   He was dying for a drink, after travelling so far,
   So at once he repaired to the cosy lounge bar;
   After several drams, which he partook of neat,
   He decided he'd better have something to eat.
   In the dining room John was soon seated at ease,
   And a pert-looking waitress, all knockers and knees,
   Bounced along to his table, with menu in hand,
   And stood ready to note down his every command.
   Now the menu, to John, was an almighty blur,
   And he gazed at it long, till she smiled at him, 'Sir,
   Will you please place your order? We close here at nine;
   It's the deadline for all who are wishing to dine,
   And the chef is quite strict, so I'll have to be hurrying.'
   'All I want.' said poor John, 'is potatoes and herring.'
   'Very well,' said the waitress, while jotting this down,
   With a petulant sniff, and an off-putting frown.
   'Now for soup,' she continued, 'we have a wide choice,
   And our soups are world-famous,' she said in awed voice.
   'We have soups of tomato, and lentil and pea;
   We have bortsch, thick French onion and minestrone,
   There is celery, scotch broth and fresh chicken too,
   Therefore tell me what kind I shall order for you?'
   Now old John had a hatred of soups of all sorts,
   And considered them worse than an outbreak of warts,
   And the thought of a bowl of fresh soup made him sick,
   So replied, 'Look here lass, though I stay for a week,
   Of soups I'll have none, they're obnoxious to me,
   And they upset my stomach considerably.'
   'You insult us,' she said with reddening face,
   'To decry thus our soup is a flagrant disgrace,'
   So she marched to the kitchen to fetch his repast,
   Leaving John somewhat chastened, and mighty downcast.
   So old John dined in silence and, when he had fed,
   He had several drams and went stotting to bed.
   In a while came a crisis in room Ninety One.
   Just directly across from the door of old John,
   When a resident called for the night staff to come;
   He was suffering violent pains in his tum.
   Constipation it was, an attack quite severe,
   And his writhing occasioned alarm, and some fear,
   So a doctor was hurriedly called to assist,
   And hiccupping happily, thoroughly pissed,
   Doctor Dugal arrived on the scene in a while,
   With an unsteady gait and a vacuous smile.
   When he learnt what was wrong he said,
   'Never fear, Just relax, do not fret, Doctor Dugal is here.'
   And he climbed up the stairs, stethoscope at the trail,
   With a trip at each step, and a hand on the rail;
   Yet he safely arrived outside Ninety One,
   Lost his bearings and entered the room where old John
   Was asleep, in a stupor, and lying as if dead,
   As the good Doctor Dugal zigzagged to the bed.
   In a trice he had John on his belly, laid flat,
   And an enema then was performed - just like that!
   Then, hiccupping happily, thoroughly pissed,
   With his little, black bag held so tight in his fist,
   Doctor Dugal, delighted with what he had done
   Set off home with a feeling of satisfaction.
   Now, throughout there was never a movement from John,
   Until the door closed and the doctor was gone,
   At first light John arose with a hazy recall
   Of the enema, black bag, and doctor and all,
   So he packed all his things and checked out right away,
   And caught the ferry and left Stornoway.
   When he reached his own house the word quickly spread,
   And the neighbours turned up, short of breath, faces red,
   'Man man, John,' they all greeted, 'you're back in a day,
   Tell us honestly now, did you like Stornoway?'
   John looked long at the questioning men,
   And he said, 'It's like this, I won't go again;
   My advice to you all, if you go to that town,
   And they offer you soup, for God's sake get it down.
   In the Caley Hotel I checked in for the night,
   And they pressed soup on me, which I turned down outright;
   But that night, in the small hours, they man-handled me,
   And with force they injected a large quantity.
   Now I ask you, my good friends, what can there be worse,
   Than soup-of-the-day being poured up your arse?'

   The succeeding laughter flustered O'Hare, and his face reddened self-consciously as he pocketed his composition.
   'Doctor Dugal,' laughed Jimmy, 'giving John an enema – what a picture!'
   'Pah!' snorted Dugal, not at all happy at being the brunt of the humour.
   'Perhaps,' said O'Hare philosophically, 'laughter is the best medicine under the circumstances?'
   'Yes,' agreed Jock. 'Life is serious enough as it is, and laughing makes a welcome change.'
   'I've never bought a lottery ticket in my life,' smiled John. 'So having Dugal perform an enema on me isn't very likely.'
   'That's for sure,' snorted Dugal, taking another sip of his whisky.
   Just then Holmes ducked as he came into the lounge from the car park.
   'Not in uniform?' asked O'Hare, giving him the once up and down as he approached the bar.
   'It is a detective you should be with such powers of perception,' replied Holmes.
   'Indeed,' returned O'Hare. 'So now that there is real police work to be done, you've decided to go off duty?'
   'Under the circumstances,' countered Holmes, 'considering the delicate nature of this investigation and the considerable grief involved, we felt that folks might find it easier to talk to us if we were not in uniform.'
   You're here to interview everyone?'
   'No, I'm here for a drink.'
   'Have you charged Old Graham?' asked Jock, voicing the question on everyone's lips.
   Holmes sighed.
   'Not yet, but it's only a matter of time. He won't talk. He says nothing. He just sits there in silence, yet from his body language, I'd say he was an innocent man.'
   'Well, I suppose having some proper police work to do makes a change from chasing our hearse around the island,' quipped Jimmy.
   'Perhaps if you showed a little more respect for the speed limits,' retorted Holmes, accepting his half pint of lager gratefully. 'I'd not be wasting so much of my police time!'
   You don't really expect us to keep folks standing around in the pouring rain waiting to bury their loved ones because we're held up by the traffic now, can you?' said Jock quietly.
   'From my limited experience in life,' said Holmes dourly over the lip of his glass,' hearses tend to hold up traffic on the way to funerals rather than overtaking everyone.'
   'Well, just listen to you!' said Jock. 'As if the police never break the speed limits!'
   'Only on important business.'
   'Oh, like the time Farmer McLeod was herding his cows home from market?'
   'He was under the influence of drink.'
   'He was on foot.'
   'On a public highway.'
   'It wasn't his fault he didn't sell all his cattle.'
   'He should have thought of that before getting pissed.'
   'Drunk in charge of cattle on a public highway? A bit heavy handed don't you think? As I recall you went past our house doing a hundred miles an hour that day. The way your lights were flashing and your sirens wailing we thought the world was coming to an end.'
   Holmes smiled.
   'Aye and do you remember the time you were speeding up The Brae?' he countered. 'Just when you rounded that steep corner near the top, the rear door of the hearse swung open and a coffin fell out and landed in a whin bush. I should have charged you both with illegally disposing of a body and contravention of litter laws.'
   'Yes, I heard about that!' laughed O'Hare, reaching inside his jacket for a pen. 'That story should be immortalised in a poem.'
   Jock seemed far from amused.
   'The fact that the corpse was that of an elder of the kirk probably had something to do with that incident,' he replied sourly. 'We were speeding him to meet his Maker and he seemed unwilling to keep the appointment. Guilty conscience no doubt.'
   'As I remember,' added Jimmy, 'he practised a hands-on approach to the congregation, especially its female members.'
   'A man after my own heart,' nodded Jock sagely.
   'Okay Bob, I suppose you have given us a bit of latitude in the past, but we haven't abused it, have we?'
   'It's been pretty borderline at times, and lately your driving has been giving me heightened cause for concern.'
   'In our business, being late isn't an option.'
   'Hence the latitude over the years, but I'm sure even you would agree that a crashed hearse with a body in the back would probably cause more grief than turning up late.'
   That shut the Thompsons up and the conversation moved on.
   'When do you think Roddy's burial will be?' asked O'Hare.
   'The post mortem will be held tomorrow, so not long after that.'
   'Not a job I would fancy,' shuddered Dugal, 'I've had quite enough of bodies for one lifetime.'
   'You should leave your body to science,' said Jock, 'I hear pretty student nurses enjoy playing conkers with testicles.'
   'Female hands where you've always wanted them,' grinned John, his chin almost touching his nose with mirth.
   'Pah!' snorted Dugal. 'Knowing my luck, I'd wind up with a young lad with spots.'
   'I find it hard to believe Roddy is actually dead,' said Jimmy seriously, sloshing what was left of his whisky round the bottom of his glass.
   'Has Dundas the water bailiff been helpful?' asked O'Hare.
   'No,' replied Holmes. 'He was underwater at the time of the incident, probably unconscious at that point, and didn't see what happened.'
   'Precisely,' noted John. 'And were it not for Old Graham, Dundas would be dead and Morrison would be alive.'
   'I can't comment on this matter any further,' said Holmes, 'I've already said far too much.'
   'Poor Graham,' said Jock sadly, downing his glass and motioning to Cameron for another round of drinks.
   John was determined to get the last word in.
   'It's a sad world that criminalises men with the strength and courage to do what is right.'
   Holmes ignored him and Jock took advantage of the lull in conversation to excuse himself and headed for the toilets.

   While he was standing relieving himself, John sidled up to the urinal next to him.
   'What did you do with the other body, Jock?'
   'I'm still working on it.'
   'Well, hurry up. You know what will happen to us all if it is found.'
   'Only too well,' said Jock.
   John nodded, then shook himself, zipped up and headed back to the bar.
   At that moment Jimmy decided to join his brother for a piss.
   'Ahhhhhhhhhhh,' he sighed, getting rid of his first pint in a hurry.
   Jock threw his brother a grim look.
   'Did something happen between you and Mary?' he asked.
   'What do you mean?'
   'Why were you blushing at the bar when she arrived?'
   'Don't you think we should go and get that body from the side of the road and get rid of it before someone finds it? We can't just leave the bastard where he is!'
   'I'm fed up to the back teeth with you and your damned swearing!' hissed Jock and stormed out of the toilet.
   Just then O'Hare staggered into the toilet, obviously beginning to feel the effects of a few drams.
   'You can't leave WHO where he is?' he laughed jovially, positioning himself in front of the urinal next to Jimmy and giving him a wink.
   'You want to be careful who you're winking at in public toilets, mate.'
   'You know Jimmy . . .'
   'What do I know?'
   'I don't know what I'd do without your friendship.'
   'Huh?'
   'Intelligence begets intelligence and without your stimulating mind and conversation I would have lapsed into a world of mediocrity years ago.'
   'You're drunk,' muttered Jimmy, who nevertheless managed a smile before heading back to the bar.
   Dugal arrived next, and took up position at the urinal Jimmy had just vacated.
   'Man,' he sighed, struggling to get his fly open. 'The drink is going straight through me!'
   'Beats the hell out of having bodies lying around I suppose,' said O'Hare.
   Dugal stared at him.
   'What?'
   'Oh, nothing,' laughed O'Hare as he tucked himself away and headed for the door. 'Just something I didn't overhear.'
   'Indeed,' said Dugal with a strange look.
   'So this is where everyone disappeared to, is it?' grinned Holmes, ducking as he pushed past Dugal and eyed the urinals.
   Being so tall, he had to be extremely careful where he aimed. When he was happy, he sighed contentedly and let go.
   'Life sure can be strange at times,' said Dugal, trying to be polite.
   'Nowt stranger than folks, so they say.'
   'Will you be going to Roddy's funeral?'
   'I'll show a face. It'll be expected. Will you be going?'
   'I expect so, though I've been seriously considering giving it a miss.'
   'Um . . .'
   'Something on your mind?'
   'Nothing important.'
   'By the way, did you ever discover who owned the red knickers?'
   Holmes coughed.
   'I guess not,' smiled Dugal.

   When Dugal got back to the bar, Jock Thompson was raising his voice and Mary was looking rather uncomfortable.
   'So,' said Jock sternly, 'what happened between you and Jimmy?'
   He glared at the girl and waited for an answer.
   'I'm sorry,' she said, 'but I had no idea you had a twin brother.'
   'Did something happen between you two?' demanded Jock tartly.
   He took a step towards her, but Holmes cut him off.
   'That's no way to talk to a lady,' he said gruffly, putting an arm around her shoulders.
   Everyone in the bar had stopped talking and was looking their way, which only made Jock even more angry.
   'An ocean explored is an ocean not merely sailed upon,' said O'Hare in a paternal voice.
   'You stay out of it,' warned Jock.
   'Listen,' said Mary quietly, with tears in her eyes, 'I don't like your tone of voice, please consider our relationship over. I think I'll go home. I'm in no mood for company right now. Could someone please call a taxi for me?'
   'There is no need for a taxi,' smiled Holmes. 'I'm heading over your way and would be happy to drive you home.'
   'Would you? Thank you, you're too kind.'
   With that Holmes downed what was left of his half pint of lager, and with an arm still around her shoulder, escorted her from the bar.
   'Intriguing,' nodded O'Hare as they left, a small smile on his lips.
   'Pah!' scoffed Jock, raising his glass to his lips. 'I was going to finish with her anyway.'
   The conversation moved on without anyone noticing that Jimmy had gone very quiet. A short time later he downed what was left of his drink and turned to his brother.
   'Drink up,' he said rather coldly, 'we have work to do.'
   And with that, the two brothers left the bar.

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