In the Argyll, the barman nodded to Mackinnon and Robbie who were having a Friday night beer with the Fire Chief.
“It’s come on heavy, Euan,” the barman observed. “Pity it didn’t come a lot sooner.”
Mackinnon went to the door and opened it slightly. The night was black. A figure loomed up and the forester widened the door opening. A man with a raincoat thrown casually over his head, brushed wetly past.
“Thanks,” the stranger said. “Bloody rain, and I’ve just got here. What happened to all that sunshine I heard you were getting?”
Mackinnon raised his eyebrows and returned to the bar. “The weather has broken, that’s for sure.”
“I’ll get my stalwarts to start packing tomorrow,” the Fire Chief said. “No rush, we’re not going to a fire…sorry, it’s an old fireman’s joke.” He took a long sup of his pint. “I heard something about the family of that officer lad arriving. You wouldn’t want to be in their shoes.”
“Noel’s next of kin was in Fort William today, his sister. She’s here at the hotel now, both parents dead apparently,” Mackinnon said. “The police called to tell me that she has already identified the body as her brother. Now she wants to visit places where he worked, meet his workmates, all of that. I’ll see her tomorrow morning. Poor lassie, eh? Must be tough on her. She has no other brothers or sisters.”
“How about another?” the barman had materialised. “ Is that the English girl who checked in earlier? Sorry. Couldn’t help hearing.”
From his pocket, Mackinnon’s mobile phone began to throb. The Argyll was satellite friendly. He answered the call and rubbed his forehead. “A half of the usual for me this time,” he requested and faced the other two. “What about you? Same again is it? That’s us then, Billy,” to the barman. When he moved away to pour the drinks, Mackinnon spoke quietly, “the Police have arrested one of the planting squad. The silent one, Silas, has been packed off to the Fort. Seems he may have caused the accident that killed Munro.”
The barman recognised the attempt not to be overheard and edged closer, working the beer levers at arms length. Robbie growled, and the barman momentarily drew back, then leaned once more in their direction.
“Christ almighty,” the Fire Chief said. “What is it about this place?”
“Nothing like this has happened here until now,“ Mackinnon said shortly. “Must have been good police work to get evidence. That Special Branch Inspector we met took an interest.”
The barman set the order in front of them and put his elbows on the bar. He was leaning conspiratorially towards them when a friendly shout for more beer came. For a moment he poised to speak, but then disgustedly moved off to operate his levers.
“But who started the fire near Polloch, eh?” Mackinnon questioned softly when the barman was out of earshot. “Was that Silas? And no word of the helicopter, what about that?”
“I never trust the quiet ones like that Silas,” Robbie muttered, “keeping himself to himself. The quiet bastard with his noisy Enfield.”
“The bicycle was quiet enough, though,” Mackinnon said.