Chapter 6
SIX
The following morning, Morag had a lot to say after breakfast.
‘You wouldn’t believe how many times that detective has been round to our house,’ she said as she sat down with her mug of tea, having just completed cleaning the bedrooms.
‘I suppose he has to question everyone who was there,’ Ally said as she brought a tray of empty dishes in from the dining room and set it down on the kitchen table.
‘He’s even questioning Murdo,’ Morag went on.
‘Maybe Murdo did use those toilets, but not when that man was shot! And as for my boys…’ Words seemed to fail her for a moment.
‘He must have spent half an hour on our Bobby, and Micky says he spent ages on him too. For God’s sake, they didn’t have anythin’ to do with shootin’ that man, did they?
They’d only just thrown their own cabers and was dryin’ the sweat off therselves. ’
‘He has to be thorough,’ Ally remarked in what she hoped was a comforting tone.
‘Aye, well he’s certainly that!’ Morag sniffed and took a large gulp of her tea while Ally began to load the dishwasher.
‘I was chattin’ to Forby yesterday and he’s been through the same. And poor Ivan was tellin’ everyone in the bar last night that it certainly wasn’t him! He was sayin’ that he’s never fired any kind of gun in his life and wouldn’t know where to start.’ Morag took another gulp.
‘Well, he would say that anyway, wouldn’t he?’ Ally replied.
Morag ignored her. ‘And ye don’t need me to tell ye that Ivan’s never proper sober, is he? So how would he go shootin’ a target like that? Last time we had a funfair here, he couldn’t even hit a bloody thing at the duck-shoot stall. And why would Ivan want to kill him anyway?’
Ally wanted to reply that none of the competitors thought that Archie should be there at all, so any one of them might have been sufficiently incensed to take a shot at him.
But that would be unlikely as it would have to have been planned in advance, in such a way that would necessitate getting and positioning the rifle.
Instead, she shrugged and shook her head.
Morag wasn’t finished yet. ‘And Angus wouldn’t do it but, mind you, he was a champion caber tosser in his day – near fifty years ago.’ She chuckled, then narrowed her eyes. ‘And what about the earl, eh?’
‘Knowing Hamish, he would have had a few drinks, so his aim wouldn’t have been too good. And what possible motive could he have anyway?’
Morag ignored the question. ‘And where was that wife of his when that man got shot, tell me that? Why wasn’t she there cheering him on? Was she havin’ a cup of tea maybe? Did you go for a hot drink?’
Ally shook her head. ‘No, neither Ross or myself went in the hospitality tent.’
‘Aye, well there was the hospitality tent and all those stalls selling shortbread and the like; it’s hard to be sure where anyone was.
’ Morag drained her tea and stood up, making her way towards the porch outside the kitchen door where she removed her pinny and donned her purple anorak.
‘See you tomorrow! If the good Lord spares me!’
Ally smiled. This was fast becoming Morag’s catchphrase.
After Morag had gone, Ally finished stacking the dishwasher and tidied up the dining room.
Only the two girls seemed eager to go for a walk; none of the three adults appeared to be overkeen on exercise.
They’d taken over the sitting room, where they spent most of the day reading or watching TV.
Ally had also overheard them arguing about Archie’s body – should they have him flown back to Canada or have him buried here in Scotland?
Patti thought he should be buried here, whereas Wendy wanted him flown home. Greg didn’t appear to have an opinion.
Ally was unaccustomed to her guests hanging around all day and was beginning to wish they’d booked in at the Craigmonie.
Only Greg was sent out periodically for supplies, mainly takeaways, which they ate in the dining room, and so both of Ally’s main downstairs rooms were constantly in use and had to be cleared and cleaned whenever possible.
She’d noticed today that Patti still seemed quite perky. However, Patti’s devotion to her uncle Angus did not seem to extend to walking up the hill to see him.
As she came out of the dining room, Ally almost collided with Greg, who was heading towards the stairs. ‘Another sunny day!’ she exclaimed brightly. ‘Just right for a walk!’
‘Oh, it would be,’ he said morosely, ‘if it wasn’t for the press.’
‘Are they still outside?’
‘Yeah, we’ve been mobbed by reporters and cameras every time we go out of here,’ he said, rolling his eyes. ‘I don’t want the girls to have to deal with that. Maybe the detective could get them to move?’
‘They won’t follow you if you go out the back door and take the moorland paths up to the castle or Loch Soular,’ Ally suggested hopefully. ‘They normally hang around on the road between here and the village.’
‘We ain’t taking any chances,’ he said before he disappeared into the sitting room, shutting the door firmly behind him.
Ross had gone home to supervise a new central heating boiler being installed, and Ally had the afternoon free.
She’d do what she said she was going to do and visit Angus.
She’d even practised what she was going to say to him: she was concerned about Patti and how she was dealing with her grief, so perhaps Angus could see his way to calling in or inviting her up there?
In fact, of course, Patti was just fine, made up to the nines and exhibiting a shapely thigh.
‘Come on, Flora – we’re going for a walk,’ she said to her excited dog.
They set off on the moorland path about half past two. Ally had reservations about leaving the family on their own in the malthouse; not that they’d be likely to do anything stupid, but she just wasn’t used to their constant presence all day long and needed to get away for a bit.
It was another lovely day, the sun shining with a gentle breeze, Flora romping ahead. It was the kind of day that would make anyone feel better, no matter how low they were. And there wasn’t a single reporter or a photographer in sight.
Halfway up to the castle was the little hut where she liked to sit and admire the view all around.
It was a ramshackle old building with a long bench seat inside, out of the wind, and had been used as a shelter for the earl’s shepherds in the days when he had sheep grazing on the hillside.
He still did have a few sheep, but they were in a fenced-off field down in the village.
There were still a few other sheep around, mainly in the smallholdings and crofts where families – like Morag and Murdo – kept chickens, a cow and sometimes a goat or two.
Ally sat down for a few minutes and wondered where she was likely to find Angus. He was usually around somewhere, frequently at the kennels or – unlikely at the moment – cleaning his guns. After a few minutes, she and Flora set off again, uphill.
They found Angus oiling the hinges of the tractor shed, dressed in his usual uniform of tweed plus-fours and hefty boots. He glared at them, his bushy white eyebrows and moustache bristling with curiosity.
‘Ye come for another dog?’ he asked, staring at Flora.
‘No, no,’ Ally replied hastily. ‘I’m more than happy with the one I’ve got.’
‘Aye, I daresay. Another one would cost you.’
She knew he was referring to the fact that when she’d first visited Angus to buy a puppy, the earl had refused to take payment.
It was his welcoming gift to her, he’d said, a fact that circulated around the village like wildfire.
Ally knew what everyone thought but didn’t let it bother her, knowing no one would believe it was purely a friendly gesture.
‘No, it’s such a lovely day I thought we’d have a little walk,’ she said.
He continued glowering at her. ‘Is that so?’
Ally cleared her throat. ‘Well, I was hoping I might run into you,’ she admitted.
‘Why’s that?’
‘I’m a little concerned about Patti,’ she said.
‘Pat!’ he corrected her.
‘OK, Pat then. Your niece.’
‘What’s wrong with her?’
Not much, Ally thought. ‘I’m a bit worried about her because she seems to be acting a little strangely.’
Angus had a way of looking at you as if you were completely deranged. ‘Well, her husband’s just been killed, as I expect ye’ve noticed.’ He continued oiling the hinges.
‘I know that, but I think it would be good for her to have some contact with you. I’ve tried to suggest they take a walk up here, but none of them seem keen on leaving the malthouse.’
‘Lazy lot,’ he said.
‘I wondered if you might pop in sometime – just have a little chat with her perhaps?’
Angus grunted. ‘She wants to talk to me, she can come here.’
‘I think they’re afraid of the press,’ Ally said. ‘There’s been a few reporters and TV crews around.’
‘We all have our jobs to do,’ he said, laying down the oil can.
Ally realised she was getting nowhere. ‘It was just a thought,’ she said lamely.
‘Let me tell ye somethin’,’ he said. ‘My niece is as tough as one of my old boots. She comes from a strong family.’
‘Well, she’s pretty vulnerable at the moment,’ Ally said.
‘She’ll soon recover and move on. That’s what Pat does.
Don’t go wastin’ any tears on her!’ He continued looking at her.
‘Between you and me, I never liked her husband; he was far too fond of himself. She should’ve married a local lad.
’ He thought for a moment. ‘Och, maybe it’s as well she didn’t because she was never any good at keepin’ her knickers on.
’ He spoke completely matter-of-factly. ‘Let me tell you, Mrs Malthouse, that bullet was meant to look as if it came from the earl or myself because we are both crack shots. Or maybe the two lads workin’ fer me, Gordon and Tom. ’
Angus had never taken the time to find out Ally’s real name.
‘And you didn’t get down to the games at all?’ she asked.