Flotsam and Jetsam

TWELVE

Torquil had never been so glad to make it to Friday night. The scandal and horror went like wildfire around all of the Western Isles, fuelled by Calum Steele in the West Uist Chronicle and his new girlfriend and assistant editor, Cora Melville.

After a meal of roast rabbit and home-made apple pie, washed down with half a bottle each of claret, he and Lachlan sat on opposite sides of the fireplace nursing a large dram of Glen Corlan. Crusoe lay curled up at Torquil’s feet.

‘I was surprised to learn that old Kenneth Canfield had an alcohol problem,’ Lachlan mused.

‘Aye, you can never tell by appearances, can you? I have learned that much these last few days. I would never have thought that Alec Anderson and Agnes could be such cold-blooded killers.’

‘A shock, right enough,’ Lachlan said, sipping his drink. ‘And what about Sandy King? Is Bruce McNab going to press charges?’

‘No. I think he’s accepted it all as a punishment. I don’t think he’ll ever get over the affair.’

‘And how is Morag?’

Torquil grinned. ‘In seventh heaven, I think. She and Sandy King seem to have something special going there, although it won’t be easy for them with him having to be with his team all week.’

‘I am pleased for them. Morag has not had an easy life. But what about that business chappie, the Dundee fellow? Was there anything in the match-fixing stuff? I saw Cora’s article about it.’

‘Nothing substantial.’

Crusoe suddenly sat up and pricked up his ears.

‘What about Rab McNeish? Will there be charges?’

‘I don’t know,’ Torquil replied, reaching down and stroking the dog. ‘That’s up to the Scottish SPCA, not us. All I can say is it was a grand day that I found Crusoe washed up on St Ninian’s Cove. He saved my life.’

‘And so now can I take it he’ll be staying with us?’

Torquil raised his glass and took a sip. ‘That depends on Lorna, I think.’

Crusoe sat up and started wagging his tail. Then he gave a short bark.

‘What depends on me?’ came Lorna’s voice from the hall.

‘Lorna!’ Torquil cried, jumping up and running to sweep her into his arms.

‘I thought I would surprise you. The boss let me have my time after all, now that he’s making his name for that drug clean-up. They’re tracing the suppliers all the way back to South America. He might get his MBE one day.’

Crusoe sat down and barked.

‘And who is this?’ Lorna asked, bending and stroking his ears. ‘He’s a bonny dog.’

‘He saved my life, Lorna.’

‘You’re joking. Tell me about it.’

‘Later,’ Torquil replied. ‘It’s a long shaggy tale.’ He kissed her and she kissed him back.

Lachlan gazed ceilingwards and sighed. ‘Come on, Crusoe. They might be some time. Let’s go and see if we can scare up a rabbit or two on the golf course.’