Dalintober Moon by Denzil Meyrick Read Free Book Online

I
    Thankfully the rain had stopped, but the wind raged on as Daley and a handful of others gazed down at the hole in the sodden sand. Even though it was mid-morning, the dark sky seemed to hang low over the tiny beach, sucking the light from the day.
    Once a separate village in its own right, Dalintober had been eaten up by Kinloch over the years, and now formed the town’s northern shore. Its inhabitants, though, still thought of themselves as apart from the rest of the community; and many were descendents of the old fishing settlement’s population. For them, Kinloch was the interloper.
    ‘Yes, well, I think we can say that judging by the nature of the remains this isn’t a recent burial, Chief Inspector,’ said the young doctor McLaren. ‘We’ll have to get your forensic boys to get it out of there and send it up the road for more rigorous testing, but from this initial examination I’d say the body’s been here for decades, if not longer.’
    Daley stared down at the skeleton, the skull of which was angled back, leaning on the bony knees. It appeared to be staring up at him. The remains were contained within a large black barrel, and in remarkable condition given the time they might have spent buried in the sand of Dalintober beach.
    ‘The SOCO boys are on their way,’ said Daley. ‘Should be here within the hour. We’ll need to get the body and the barrel out of the sand before the tide turns, but they’re bringing the right kit they tell me, so all the better.’
    ‘It’s a sherry butt,’ said council workman Anderson, the fluorescent orange of his jacket bright in the November gloom.
    ‘What?’ said Daley.
    ‘Type of barrel, Mr Daley. I used to work in the distillery, and these are the big casks they buy from Spain tae fill with whisky. All the best stuff comes oot o’ a fresh sherry cask. Aye, and you pay for it, tae. They’d never have fitted the poor bastard in a hoggy.’
    It was clear that the body had been crammed into the cask then buried deep in the sand. Only the exceptional severity of the storms that had lashed Kinloch for the last four days had managed to strip away layers of sand and expose the white bones of the corpse. Remnants of blackened cloth lay at the feet of the skeleton, save for one piece attached to a buckle, which had rusted to the bones of the right shoulder. The top of the whisky cask had rotted away, exposing its gristly contents.
    Daley contemplated the skull’s rictus grin. Even if this unfortunate individual was indeed from an earlier time, this was obviously a crime; one side of the skull appeared to have been smashed by some blunt force. He watched as the doctor examined it further. As far as he was aware, there was no tradition of such burials in Kinloch, though, in the town he now called home, anything was possible.
    As he ruminated on this most baffling problem, the shrill voice of a woman could be heard on the wind.
    ‘Let me through!’ she shouted at the uniformed cops who were trying to hold her back. ‘Jeest get yer hands off me this meenit!’ Her tone changed to one of pleading. ‘I might be able tae help you here.’
    As Daley stood up, his knees clicked and popped, and he grimaced in response. ‘OK, lads, let her through.’ Now unhindered, the elderly woman, dressed in a bulky waterproof jacket, made her way to the hole in the ground. Without a word to Daley or anybody else, she put her face in her hands and began to wail, ‘Grampa Billy! Efter all this time, Grampa Billy!’

II
    ‘Please take a seat, Mrs Hutchinson,’ said Daley, glad to be out of the biting wind of Dalintober beach. Across from him sat the old lady who had cried when she saw the skeleton in the barrel. She was quiet now, with a look of great sadness on her face.
    ‘I’m sorry I made such a fuss jeest there, Inspector.’ She took a gulp of the warm tea Daley had given her. ‘I just didna expect tae find oot the truth in my lifetime, that’s all.’
    ‘The