The Whisky Affair (Raymond Armstrong Series)

by Michael J Gill

  “He wasn’t.”

  “My point, precisely. And when did he start liking a peaty whisky?”

  “Never!”

  “Okay, let’s say, for just a second, that he was drunk when he died. Why would he drink almost a bottle of the 12-year-old and then enjoy a dram or two of your special edition big peaty whisky? The one you produced for the royal wedding.”

  “He would not have touched a drop of whisky so peaty, plus we only had one bottle each for a keepsake. He wouldn’t have opened it. Why are you asking me these questions?”

  “The bottle in his office has at least two servings missing. It was open.”

  Louisa frowned and tears welled up in her eyes. Her aunt moved her chair closer to her niece and patted her shoulder.

  “So, you know his trade secret?” she asked, dabbing at the tears she couldn’t hold back any longer.

  “Of course. He was my best friend. Said you were the only other person with an inkling he detested peaty malts. The special edition is over 50 phenols per million. I can’t get past Bowmore which is about 25 and so I totally get it. Some peaty whiskies just put me off – just by smelling the stuff.”

  Louisa nodded agreement. “Dad was the same, but being the owner of a distillery he had to hide it. He was fine to do the nosing but would find a way not to drink those peaty malts.”

  Exactly. Gordon’s sudden heart attack had been staged to look like it was brought on by scare tactics. Worse, could it have been brought on by an untraceable poison?

  “Did your dad have any enemies?” he asked instantly.

  “You must be joking. Everybody loved my dad.” She thought for a moment. “I can’t say the same about my brother – bloody parasite just travels around the world like the family has millions. He may have plenty of enemies for all I know.”

  “I thought he was an expert, a brand ambassador for the distillery?”

  “Yeah, he can tell a good story. He uses the latest technology to show the Isle of Bute and the distillery in the best light. Yes, he is a good showman but James really does not know the technical side of making great single malts.”

  “What about the inheritance? Have you heard from your solicitor?”

  “No, but we both know it will be 50-50 between James and I. Why are you asking all these questions?” She was now agitated.

  Her aunt finally tugged on Raymond’s arm. “Time to leave, now. This has been difficult and Louisa is exhausted. We can’t have her tiring herself out.”

  Raymond stood and thanked both of them for their time.

  “Can I pop back later for the funeral details.”

  Louisa nodded, her hands tightly holding onto her teacup. He turned to the door, zipping up his jacket as he stepped outside.

  When Raymond left the house he was hit by a strong wind and drizzle. He pulled up his jacket collar and walked over to the sea wall to look out at the violent waters of the ocean. “Well that went well,” he said out loud. His statement did nothing to impress the pair of seagulls inching closer, looking for food.

  He had been hard on Louisa and for that he was sorry. However, he was now convinced his friend’s death was not an accident. Gordon had been murdered. Every minute of his investigation made him more sure of that.

  CHAPTER 23

  Raymond showered, changed into formal attire, and began walking on the promenade heading toward the church. He felt quite uncomfortable wearing a suit and tie – he avoided them except for the odd high-end dinner engagement.

  He noticed Gordon’s daughter, Louisa, parking her car next to the promenade. The church was located at the end of a long winding driveway on a spit surrounded by the Atlantic Ocean. This was the Island’s largest church – large enough to accommodate the number of guests expected. Raymond was sure that if it had been up to Gordon, he would have requested his favourite spot, and reopened the tiny church on his property – to heck with expectations and all the guests.

  On the other hand, Louisa was right to pick the splendid church for a send-off for a great man. He was sure Gordon’s ashes would be spread at the Templars’ ruins at a later date.

  The church was built in the Victorian-Gothic style. The nave would easily accommodate all the guests. Raymond was amazed at the length of the building. It had an unusually short tower at one end that did not seem to fit the architecture of the rest of the church. It was distinctive and impressive and fit the occasion to a T.

  On either side of the church, beautiful stained glass windows, depicting religious scenes, lit up the entire room. Gordon lay there in a fine oak casket just in front of the pulpit. Floral arrangements were tastefully displayed on either side. The aromas were a bit overwhelming – not that anyone would say they minded.

  “The guests should be arriving soon for the service and even though this is a large church, I have requested only family and close friends,” said Louisa, looking solemn.

  “Can we have a moment, alone away from here? The casket…” Raymond was uncomfortable with his best friend on display for all to see.

  They climbed up to the upper level that looked over the promenade. The whole main street was full of people watching, while the driveway was full of guests arriving. It looked like New Year’s Eve on Princess Street, Edinburgh.

  They stood in silence for a moment looking at the gathering crowd in total astonishment. Louisa grabbed his arm and forced a smile but didn’t speak.

  There was nothing to say, after all – this was the tribute to a great man, a man who would go down as a legend on the Isle of Bute.

  The service lasted much longer than planned and it was a wonderful tribute to Gordon. Raymond often felt tears welling up in his eyes during the service. As he delivered the eulogy, requested by Louisa, his voice trembled slightly at the loss of his best friend.

  Louisa was holding her own, however James looked totally bored as if could not wait to escape the clutches of the friends and family. Each time mourners left the church, they were replaced by new guests wishing to pay their respects.

  The cremation would be that evening and the ashes would be delivered to Louisa who would ensure Gordon’s wishes were fulfilled at her discretion.

  Family and friends were directed to the church hall where a quiet reception took place. Raymond had not stopped shaking hands as he chatted with Gordon’s family and friends. He’d lost track of time and was making a hasty dash to his car when he bumped into Anne outside on the front lawn. The day brightened for Raymond.

  “What the heck are you doing here? You don’t have any ties to the Reid family, do you?” Ouch! That hadn’t come out that way he intended.

  “Nice welcome.” She smiled at his slip.

  “I mean… Amazing to see you so soon, even under these circumstances,” he amended.

  “I was on my way back to Canada and thought I would stop by. Thanks for sending me the email. I wish it had not been such shocking news.”

  “No direct flights from Paris to Montreal or Toronto?” he said, smiling.

  “Okay, I have a confession. I’ve thought about you since we talked. I didn’t tell you everything, Raymond. I might have even misled you a bit… Though we haven’t seen each other for years it was like no time passed, and I didn’t want to be hurt again. But I find you’re different now, Raymond. Gordon was important to you. And you were honest with one another. You’re still important to me and I want to step up and be your friend, Raymond.

  “But first you need to know I am actually divorced and in the process of moving to Toronto. I managed to find a new position teaching art history at Trinity University. I know this is not the right time or place. But I wanted to tell you in person how much I’d like to stay in contact with you.”

  Something inside Raymond laughed and the mood of the day lightened considerably.

  “I’d like to talk with you some more, Anne, but, I have to leave right now on the last ferry,” Raymond said, looking at his watch.

  “Charming – why is our timing always out of s
ync?”

  He pulled her arm, probably a tad too strongly and she lost her balance. She fell into his arms and he dipped his head and kissed her hard on the lips. Thank God she responded. Her tongue flicked into his mouth. Her fingernails pressed hard against his back through his jacket and shirt, and her arms wrapped tightly around his waist.

  “Anne,” Raymond said quietly, looking directly into her eyes, “I have to sign some papers back in Haworth first thing in the morning. My mother had a slight stroke, right in the middle of the transfer to a retirement home. Probably too much for her. It’s not like twenty years ago when each day was uncertain and my life was going in so many directions. This time I want to spend time with you, but my family… This is personal, what with family and Gordon’s...”

  She looked puzzled but just shrugged off his explanation as if she’d expected it.

  “Please think about us spending time together when you return to Canada and I promise to call soon. There is something rather odd with the whole situation surrounding Gordon’s death and I just need time alone to work it out.”

  “Raymond Armstrong, I don’t know what you did precisely in your past life, but I do know if you think it’s odd, it probably is. Stay safe and call me when you figure things out.”

  She kissed him hard until he reluctantly pulled back. He squeezed her hand then climbed into his car, and tore away with tires screeching, heading for the ferry terminal.

  CHAPTER 24

  Raymond returned to Haworth to complete all the family affairs that were pending and take some quiet time to think about Gordon’s tragic death. He still found it difficult to accept.

  And for the moment Anne was a distraction he did not allow himself – later once things were sorted out about Gordon’s death and all his family’s affairs were settled he would follow it through. She was divorcing and that changed everything. Created compelling possibilities…

  But first things first. Gordon’s death.

  He had gone through the possibilities and the various scenarios played over and over in his head. He was so careful that at times he felt paranoid. It seemed like the years of training in the art of deception would not leave him. We’re nudging him instead…

  There was the strange whisky Gordon drank before his death… For the life of him, Raymond couldn’t explain that. Maybe Gordon just had a peaty whisky for the bloody sake of having a peaty whisky.

  He accessed Gordon’s Facebook and Twitter accounts using the same password as for his computer. Gordon hadn’t been so brilliant when it came to security.

  He found nothing of any significance other than Gordon’s sudden interest in Las Vegas.

  Raymond made a call to his good friend Kate, to see if they could meet for dinner. He needed someone he could trust and talk to about Gordon’s death. And he was looking for some reassurance about the direction his mind was taking.

  Raymond was so deep in thought that he jumped when the doorbell rang, though he expected Gwen, the ever-cheerful real estate agent with a genuine sunny nature.

  “Well, are you going to let me in? I have good news and I could murder for a cuppa. Milk, one sugar, please.”

  Getting straight to the point, Gwen announced there was a decent offer on the table. She accepted the mug he offered and carefully took a sip.

  “So what should I do, take the offer or wait for the house prices to go back up again?” he asked her.

  “It’s quite a good offer. If it were mine, I’d take it.” They talked about the conditions of sale and then about the changes for his mother and father…and for him. He found it hard to let go of his family home, and she understood.

  “Then get the paperwork in order and I’ll sign. I only need about two or three weeks to have the contents sold off.”

  “Right you are, Mr. Armstrong.” Gwen stood and nodded as she took a last gulp of coffee then headed for the door.

  “I will have someone drop off the papers later today. I’ll be in touch,” she added as the door closed behind her.

  A feeling of sadness washed over him. If the deal went through, Raymond would sell the family home – and with it, so many memories. Would he want to hang onto it for those? No. Memories were built on more than old homes. And life went on. The reality was, having the sale finalized would be a great relief. One less thing to worry about.

  He had called in at the retirement home to see his parents on his way to Scotland, a few days earlier. They were both thriving under the care and attention they were receiving from their very kind care professionals. The staffers had gone out of their way for his parents and he appreciated how quickly they’d contacted him after his mother’s second stroke – a slight one from which she would recover.

  As the only child, taking care of this parents fell to Raymond. He loved his parents and it was important that they were safe and happy.

  Before retirement, his job had taken him away and he had neglected his parents for many years. He was happy to step up and deal with family matters now.

  He’d told them the move started a new chapter in your lives and that going to a nursing home did not mean the end was imminent. His father had smiled, but Raymond knew the decision to let go of the house as well as their independence was hard on them.

  He was putting on the kettle for a cup of tea when his phone beeped with a text message. Kate: ‘I’ll meet you for dinner.’ Brilliant, he thought, and replied with: ‘The Cut at 7.00? I will make reservations.’

  Kate was a good friend and often helped him on difficult assignments when she had spare time. They shared the love of single malts and fine wine, but most of all, Raymond loved her mind. Sharp, intelligent and outspoken, she was also tall – five foot eleven in heels. Her demeanor and height intimidated most men, even during the smallest debate or slightest potential confrontation.

  He often thought she would have done well as a field operative with his lot at MI6. She was a practicing lawyer – and damn good at it – using her confidence, sharp intellect, and dominating presence to full advantage in a courtroom on many occasions. He had neglected his family and many of his friends – but never Kate.

  Kate always looked to increase her knowledge and had finally passed her exams to become a Master of Wine. The course took dedication and was extremely difficult to pass, especially if one also had a full time job, a husband, and two kids.

  This evening, however, he just needed a friend to bounce ideas off and to provide another perspective on Gordon’s tragic death because now that his parents’ house was settled, that dominated his thoughts. Kate had the ability to keep on track and would recognize and dismiss any personal emotions that might cloud Raymond’s judgement.

  The sun appeared through the trees, brightening up the cottage just as Raymond sat down to read the local paper with a fresh cup of tea. However, his thoughts kept coming back to the loss of his best friend, Gordon and his parents’ situation and Anne…

  He’d met Anne on the Isle of Bute, what seemed like an eternity ago. Gordon had invited Raymond up for the jazz festival, long weekend in May. The Island wakes up around that time of year in preparation for the summer tourists who follow shortly thereafter. It’s really like a kick-off, a chance for all the retailers to get back into the mode of being busy and earning their keep for the year.

  There’d been a party in one of the bars and that’s where he met Anne. He asked if she would like to dance, and she accepted. He paused from his thoughts – that pleasant moment frozen in his mind.

  He absolutely hated jazz over any other music genre. The sound of it today would have him looking for aspirin to calm the headache that came with the notes. They had both laughed when Raymond had revealed he asked her to dance because she was so good looking. They talked half the night, then sat on the promenade watching the ocean while waves crashed against the rocks. There they discussed the music they truly loved. After that, once they were a couple, whenever a big name was playing on the mainland, in Glasgow or Edinburgh, Raymond would plan for th
em to go.

  The first time was to see Aerosmith in Glasgow. He asked her at the last minute. He actually couldn’t be anything other than a ‘moment man’ as she called him, what with the job he had. Working with MI6 was not your normal five days, forty-hour gig.

  She’d been over the moon when he invited her to the concert. She’d jumped into his arms and asked where they were staying – and told him it better be a nice hotel…and it better have two rooms.

  He had whispered, ‘No. There’s one king-size bed.”

  ‘Going to the next level are we?’ she’d asked shyly.

  CHAPTER 25

  Raymond took the main road through two villages and headed out over the moors. It was a scenic drive he had driven many times in his younger days. He looked to either side, where sheep grazed in the pasture with lots of spring lambs hanging close to their mums. He pulled into the car park and took the last spot available. No surprise. It was already busy. He’d gone on the Internet and indications were that Phil’s newest enterprise did quite well.

  The restaurant had won many awards for its fine dining – of course it had reputable chef, Phil Hutchinson. Phil had figured out the right balance between good Yorkshire fare and a subtle touch of French cooking. The locals loved it and Phil said the eclectic menu kept the place full each evening.

  Nice on Phil, he thought and looked forward to trying his old mate’s cooking.

  Kate was already sitting at the bar drinking a glass of Taittinger champagne, which was always her choice before dinner. ‘It cleanses the palette and livens up the taste buds, for the complex red wine to follow shortly,’ she’d told him countless times.

  They hugged and Raymond ordered a G & T at once. He had booked a table, tucked in the corner, away from the many family tables.

  “Well let’s get some food ordered and you can bring me up to speed. I am famished,” said Kate. She chose a medium-rare steak while Raymond opted for the gammon, with the traditional fried egg on top. Kate asked the waiter for a bottle of Gigonadas red wine from the Cote Du Rhone.