by Alan Hunter
Her hand had been resting under the jacket. Now she suddenly snatched it out. It was grasping a short dagger with a wedge-shaped blade, a blade japanned with dark stains. Her eyes glittered at Gently. She raised the dagger. ‘Ma ain dirk, Englishman,’ she said. ‘Wi’ the bluid o’ ane traitor glimmerin’ on it – an’ about to mix wi’ that of another.’
‘Put your weapon down, Miss McCracken,’ Gently said.
‘Too late!’ she cried. ‘You didna lack for a warnin’. But you wouldna be warned, wouldna be told – you would have it. An’ here it comes!’
She sprang at Gently with such suddenness that he had barely time to strike down the blow, while the force of the assault threw him back on the rocks. She went down with him. He lay precariously with his head over the edge, grappling for her wrist with one hand, jabbing at her face with the other. But her strength and ferocity were amazing. Her fingers buried in his throat. With a series of sharp, violent snatches she freed her wrist from his grasp. Then the dirk glinted dully above him and he tensed his arm for a desperate parry; but before she could strike something exploded, and the dirk went spinning into the void.
Flora McCracken leapt back with a piercing scream and stood working her fingers and staring wild-eyed. Behind a rockrim, only a few yards distant, McGuigan was leaning with a smoking rifle. She screamed again. She darted past Gently, launched into the gully and disappeared. McGuigan watched her, his rifle pointing, but made no move to interfere.
He cocked a leg over the rim, came sliding down to land on the platform beside Gently. Gently scrambled up. His neck was bleeding and marked with a row of angry bruises. McGuigan looked at them.
‘Man,’ he said. ‘You shouldna go wrestlin’ with a wild-cat.’
He blew across the muzzle of the rifle.
‘Now all you’ve got to do is catch her,’ he said.
Gently pressed his neck tenderly and looked at the blood on his fingers.
‘Thanks,’ he said. ‘The situation was beginning to get awkward.’
‘But are you not surprised, man,’ McGuigan said. ‘With me poppin’ up like an old blackcock – when for all you kent I was takin’ my ease in the parlour at Knockie?’
Gently gave him a grin. ‘I wasn’t surprised,’ he said. ‘I had you in my mirror from Torlinnhead. If I hadn’t thought you were tailing me up here, I might not have pushed the business so far.’
‘Och, well,’ McGuigan said, his blue eyes abashed. ‘I just reckoned on havin’ my own back with you – you tailed me fine from Knockie to Glenny – I don’t ken yet what way you did it.’
‘Professional secret,’ Gently said.
‘Ay – if that’s a term for invisibility. I didn’t see you in my mirror, man, when I was crossin’ the bare tops.’
Gently shrugged, went down on his knees to peer over the airy edge of the platform. Flora McCracken’s dirk lay plainly visible on a seam of turf, a hundred feet below.
‘I’ll fetch it for you,’ McGuigan said, also peering. ‘It’s no’ but a scramble down there. An’ I’m thinkin’ with the bluid on one end, the prints on the other, it doesn’t leave Miss Flora with muckle room for manoeuvre. Man, give us your hand. You’ve lifted an ugly weight off my shoulders – off Mary’s too. You’ll no lack for friends when your feet are strayin’ in this direction.’
He grasped and shook Gently’s hand firmly, drawing him close as he did so. Then his eyes began to twinkle and he gave a rumbling chuckle.
‘All the same, ma mannie – as I am distant kin o’ the McCrackens – there was intermarriage, you ken, about the time o’ the Union – an’ Miss Flora bein’ the spunkie, sonsie lass you have seen – I’m hopin’ she leads you a dance through the heather before you clap her into a cell.’
‘She’ll find Blayne waiting for her below,’ Gently said.
‘An’ waitin’ is the word,’ McGuigan said. ‘You mustn’t suppose she’ll go trippin’ down there an’ slap bang into his arms. No, no, man – she’s mountain-raised – she’ll always keek before she leaps – she’ll be away into the back-country, no doubt o’ that, an’ you will not soon pick up with her there.’
‘We can seek her with dogs,’ Gently said shortly.
‘An’ where will that get you?’ McGuigan said. ‘She’ll ken as much about the way o’ dogs as the dogs do themselves.’
‘We can comb the area with military – use helicopters.’
‘Ay, it’ll be a grand sight,’ McGuigan said. ‘But my money’ll still be on Miss Flora. This is an uncommon country for gettin’ lost in.’
‘Then what would you recommend?’
McGuigan’s eyes gleamed. ‘Och, just Hamish an’ one or two o’ the laddies. But since they wouldna take orders from you, an’ since I’m no’ like to give them any, that’s just idle clatter. You’ll need to be patient, George ma mannie.’
He gave a sudden, wild whoop, thrust his rifle at Gently, then went leaping down the descending cleft with a recklessness that made Gently shudder. At the level of the seam he paused briefly, made a quick, shuffling traverse. He picked up the dirk by its tip. He looked up at Gently, whooped again.
The Minx and two police cars were standing before the farm. Blayne, Purdy and six uniform men were deployed about the yard. When Gently and McGuigan came out of the trees Blayne went loping over to meet them, but it was McCracken, fierce as a bear, who rushed up to reach them first.
‘Where’s ma daughter – what have you done wi’ her?’
He thrust his grim face at Gently’s. His grey eyes were wide with hate and his huge fingers curled like hooks. McGuigan tapped him on the shoulder.
‘Just stand aside a wee, cousin,’ he said. ‘Ye’re talkin’ to a man worth half a dozen o’ you – an’ a friend o’ Knockie’s to boot.’
‘Where’s ma daughter!’ McCracken snarled, striking McGuigan’s hand aside. ‘If you’ve harmed a finger o’ her I’ll rend ye apart – where’s ma daughter – where’s Flora?’
‘Now you’re bein’ less than civil, cousin,’ McGuigan said, giving McCracken a poke that sent him staggering. ‘An’ it does not become a kinsman o’ mine who may be standin’ upright by my grace an’ favour.’
‘If ye touch me again I’ll kill ye!’ McCracken snapped.
‘I’ll run the risk of it,’ McGuigan said. ‘An’ on that subject, cousin, I’ll have you know you were as near dying as breathing yourself, but two hours earlier. I had a bead on your forehead, man, while you were waggin’ your gun at the Superintendent, an’ had ye made one move the more I would have split your head like a rotten orange.’
‘Ye did – ye did!’ McCracken spluttered. ‘I shallna forget that either, Knockie – but ma daughter – where’s ma daughter. If she’s harmed, I’ll murder ye a’!’
‘Your daughter is safe,’ Gently said. ‘Perhaps you can tell us where to look for her.’
‘Ahem – ahem,’ Blayne’s dry cough interrupted. ‘I was just about to put the very same question.’
McCracken stared from one to another of them and a look of cunning came into his eyes. ‘So she’s awa’!’ he said. ‘That’s the news I wanted – awa’, an’ the likes o’ you dinna ken where. Bring out your constables, Inspector Blayne – bring out your rampin’ big doggies – the scent’s het, man – set ’em on – but you’ll scarcely come by a glisk o’ Flora.’
‘That may be,’ Blayne said. ‘But I’m nabbin’ you for one, McCracken. I’m thinkin’ our chances will be that much better wi’ you kickin’ your heels in a cell.’
‘You canna hold me – you can prove nothin’.’
‘I can prove threatenin’ behaviour for a start. An’ unless I’m much mistaken, I can come up with other charges after a wee crack wi’ the Superintendent. No, Hector ma man, your foot’s in the bog, an’ it won’t come out for stainpin’ an’ rantin’. An’ we’ll have that wild lassie o’ yours too, if not with dogs, then with starvation.’
McCracken spat. ‘You’ll never find Flora.’
‘Th
at’s a big word, never,’ Blayne said. ‘Will I be puttin’ the shackles on those outsize wrists, or will you wait douce an’ quiet in a car?’
‘He’ll wait douce an’ quiet,’ McGuigan said. ‘You have the word of his kinsman.’
McCracken gave McGuigan a blazing look, then turned and stumped away towards the cars.
‘Well, now,’ Blayne said to Gently. ‘I ken you’re a gliff ahead o’ me, man. An’ if you’re for puttin’ me out o’ my ignorance, I’m for just sich a charitable motion myself.’
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
This story has no moral,
This story has no end.
‘Frankie and Johnny’
GENTLY TALKED. IN a few words he described his reception by the McCrackens, Flora McCracken’s confession, her violence and flight. What he did not describe was his tailing of McGuigan and the interview at Glenny, for which notable exclusion he received relieved looks from the anxious laird. But Blayne could not be satisfied so easily.
‘And what brought you to Laggart, man?’ he asked flatly. ‘It’s the neb an’ forefront o’ the whole interlude – an’ I have an interest in it I’ll speak of later.’
‘It was his evil genius brought him,’ said Brenda, who had joined them in time to hear Gently’s account. ‘That, and his general profligate character. He can never leave the lassies alone.’
‘Ay,’ Blayne said, giving Gently a shrewd look. ‘I recall what you were tellin’ me, Miss Merryn – that he met the female McCracken last night, an’ there was a passage o’ words between them. But I’d not have thought – I haven’t heard – she is a very come-hithersome manner o’ lassie, an’ I’d not have supposed the Superintendent would be so dooms quick off the mark wi’ her.’
‘Ah, you don’t know him, Inspector,’ Brenda said. ‘There’s a ravening wolf under all that phlegm. And the women fall for it. They adore a suave, polite brute like George.’
‘But the lassie herself,’ Blayne said. ‘She gave him small encouragement, by your account of it.’
‘Wrong again, Inspector. The lassie knew well enough how to lead him on.’
‘Well – howsoever,’ Blayne said. ‘It would be a rash, inconsiderin’ action to come chasin’ up here – an’ I’m still left wonderin’ how it just happened that Flora McCracken was the one we sought.’
Gently hunched his shoulders. ‘It’s simple,’ he said. ‘McGuigan and I conferred together. McGuigan had the idea the murderer came from this side. So we just played it along for what it was worth.’
‘So that was the way of it,’ Blayne said sombrely. ‘I could have wished you’d passed your ideas to me, Mr McGuigan.’
‘I hadn’t the chance,’ McGuigan said, thrusting his beard out. ‘You were too busy bangin’ me wi’ questions, man.’
‘Aweel,’ Blayne sighed. ‘It may be so. I ken I was playin’ my hand with a flourish – an’ the de’il of it is I was findin’ my own way – I was near to drawin’ up wi’ McCracken myself.’
‘How was that?’ Gently said.
‘Och, by listenin’ to gossip. A word in my lug from Mattie Robertson. She’s an observant woman, as you likely ken – there’s not much in Tudlem she doesn’t hear tell of. An’ she was just mentionin’ that McMorris let drop – he’s the Forestry ranger who found Dunglass – that the McCracken lassie was aye strollin’ the braes, an’ once he’d seen her talkin’ wi’ Donnie.’
‘She didn’t have much luck, did she?’ Brenda said. ‘And nobody told her to wear gloves.’
‘Ay – I was puttin’ it together in my heid,’ Blayne said. ‘An’ addin’ Poppy Frazer to the heap, who Dunglass lately fetched from Glasgow. But that’s all under the bridge now – it’s just to let ye ken I was thereabout – an’ for the rest, I’m mighty glad it wasn’t maself who took a twirl in the hills wi’ Flora McCracken.’
‘It was the short way,’ Gently said. ‘A confession was what we most needed.’
‘Short or lang,’ Blayne said. ‘It would have been no way for me. I ken my limitations, man – I have somethin’ more o’ patience an’ less o’ gunpowder. The sort o’ work you were makin’ today is beyond the talents o’ Alistair Blayne.’
Please,’ Brenda said. ‘Don’t butter him up. His conceit is fabulous already.’
‘What’s worryin’ me now,’ Blayne said, ‘is how we can get him official credit for it.’
‘That’s easy,’ Gently said hastily. ‘You won’t. I want my name kept out of this. I’m on vacation. I shan’t be very pleased if you sick a load of reporters on me.’
‘But we’ll need your evidence, man—’
‘No. The prints, the blood tell their own story. When you catch Miss McCracken you’ve a confession to face her with. You shouldn’t need to bring me in at all.’
Blayne raised and dropped his hands. ‘It’s against my wishes, ye ken,’ he said slowly. ‘But if so you’ll have it, so it will be – an’ with a gratefu’ heart from Inspector Blayne.’
They took McGuigan with them down the track to recover his Cortina. He sat in front with Gently, saying nothing till they halted at the spot where he’d left his car. Then he turned to them, his beard lifting, his surprising eyes shyly earnest.
‘Man,’ he said. ‘This is no small matter – we canna brush it off so lightly. I’d like it ill if you left the country without another visit to Knockie. And I ken Mary will want to thank you – and Glenny’ll want another crack – and well – it would just be highly convenient if you would consider spendin’ a day at the Lodge.’
‘Will the trout and venison be on?’ Brenda asked.
‘Och, will it not, Miss Merryn. And we’ll have the pipes – if you’re fond o’ music – Hamish McTurk is a rare piper. An’ we’ll give the house a bit of a trim up – an’ you’ll be bringin’ your friends with you – an’ I’ll ask one or two o’ my own – an’ there’ll be dancin’ – och, what do you say?’
‘Try holding me back,’ Brenda said. ‘And that of course goes for George, Geoffrey and Bridget.’
‘Keep to that,’ McGuigan said, catching her hand. ‘Man, they’ll hear the noise of us in Stirling. Shall we say Friday o’ this week.’
‘The obvious and perfect day,’ Brenda said.
‘Then all’s settled – Friday sure – an’ come for breakfast if ye will!’
They drove back with the Cortina following them, and saw it turn across the bridge at Strathtudlem. Geoffrey and Bridget were still out and the cottage was heavy with its cool silence. They sat down on the very hard settee. Brenda snuggled into Gently’s arms.
‘Hold me tight for a little while,’ she said. ‘Because the certain fact is I’m proved chicken.’
‘You’re you,’ Gently said. ‘That’s what’s important. Who else would you like to be?’
‘No one – now,’ she sighed contentedly. ‘But I’m a hopeless craven, if you did but know. And you must admire girls like Flora McCracken, who can knock you down and nearly knife you. She’s the real stuff of heroics. For a Joan McArc, apply to Flora.’
‘Hush,’ Gently said. ‘Who wants a heroine?’
‘You, probably,’ Brenda said. ‘But I’m what you’ve got, George Gently, so you’ll just have to make the best of me.’
‘I’ll try to resign myself,’ Gently said.
‘You’d better, you brute,’ Brenda said. ‘Because I’ll never, never let you go up the braes again with a strange woman. You hear me telling you?’
‘I hear you,’ Gently said.
‘Then kiss me – kiss me – and kiss me again.’
Gently kissed her.
Some time after, sooner or later, the others returned.
And that fortnight passed with its suns and its rains and its picnics and expeditions, and they visited Knockie and ate trout and venison and danced and sang in a mild evening; and the morning came when they said goodbye and turned the Hawk, the Sceptre southwards, and Mrs McFie counted her winnings and swore the Major kent who to draw up with.
And
still there was no news of Flora McCracken. But it wasn’t the end of the story, either.
One hot afternoon in August Gently reported in from a case in the country. He was hungry, tired and in an irritable state from having had to drive through rush-hour traffic. In his outer office he met Inspector Dutt.
‘Someone’s waiting to see you, Chief,’ Dutt said.
‘Who?’ Gently snapped.
‘A woman – I think. She’s been in and out of the tank all afternoon.’
‘Name?’
‘Doesn’t give one.’
‘Seen her before?’
Dutt shook his head.
‘So,’ Gently said, ‘sling her out. I wouldn’t want her to miss her tea.’
But on his way down he glanced into the tank, as the windowless waiting-room was called, and Dutt’s stranger was still sitting there. Only Gently knew her. Flora McCracken.
Gently faded back to his office.
‘The woman in the tank,’ he said to Dutt. ‘Get four of the toughest policewomen you can find, have them search her, bring her to me.’
‘You know her, then, Chief,’ Dutt said.
‘Yes,’ Gently said. ‘Very much I know her. What they’ll be searching for is a knife, and they’d better not waste any time finding it.’
Twenty minutes later she was dragged into the office with everyone looking the worse for wear. She’d had a knife. When she saw Gently she set up a screaming that made their ears ring.
‘Lock her up!’ Gently bawled. ‘And someone keep observation on her.’
They dragged her out again. Gently picked up the phone, put through a call to Balmagussie. He doodled on his pad, grinning to himself, thinking how he was going to surprise Blayne. He got Blayne.
‘Inspector Blayne? This is Chief Superintendent Gently.’
‘Och – my stars! – is it you, Superintendent? An’ have you just rang up to congratulate me?’
‘Congratulate you – what for?’
‘Why, for tyin’ up yon case, man – for gettin’ a confession oot of Hector McCracken – have you no seen the Scotsman this morning?’
