Gently North-West by Alan Hunter Read Free Book Online Page B

a spoonful under the body. But Ferguson – that’s the doctor – is of the opinion he wouldn’t have bled much from such a wound.’
    ‘For example, broken twigs,’ Gently said. ‘The rain wouldn’t conceal them.’
    Blayne sucked in his cheeks. ‘What would that tell us? Dunglass could have snapped them as well as another.’
    ‘Then you know of nobody else being up there?’
    ‘That’s so.’
    ‘Say – Mrs Dunglass?’
    ‘She says she wasn’t. I have a statement from the house-keeper to the same effect – the lady was never out of the house.’
    ‘Have you examined her shoes?’
    ‘Ay, I did. They tellt me the lady was fond of the braes. But all her stout shoes were dry enough – you can’t give her the lie from them.’
    ‘So,’ Gently said. ‘Dunglass goes up the hill, and we don’t know why. Do we know when?’
    Blayne’s head wagged. ‘In a manner of speakin’, though not very precisely. Dunglass was in this room all the evenin’ – his lady was watching T.V. in the parlour – then at 10 p.m., it may be later, he says he must drive into Balmagussie. And with no more about it, he gets in his car – the gardener sees him fetch it out – and is last seen crossin’ yon bridge and headin’ down the road for Balma’.’
    ‘But he never actually went there.’
    ‘That’s impossible. We found his car nearby Halfstarvit – and that’s on this side of the river, a guidish way along the back road. No, either somethin’ happened to change his mind, or his goin’ to Balma’ was just a blind – he was soon back over the river and makin’ his way up the hill.’
    ‘To meet someone.’
    ‘What for else?’
    ‘A woman?’
    Blayne sucked air through his teeth. ‘Its a wearisome trystin’-place, that – and close on the mirk hour, you ken. Still, it could be a female, nonetheless – one of your mountain hizzies would make light work of it – maybe Dunglass was cheatin’ on his lady and some gudeman took the old way with him. Ay, it could be that.’
    ‘But you don’t think it likely,’ Gently said.
    ‘Not so I’d put my Sunday sark on it, without a deal more than’s showin’ yet.’
    ‘Of course, you’ll have checked out McMorris and the servants.’
    Blayne’s head moved.
    ‘Wha’ about relatives?’
    ‘Dunglass’s family are around Glasgow – the lady’s at Cuitybraggan, which is almost as far.’
    ‘Friends and associates?’
    ‘None in Strathtudlem. Dunglass was a foreigner here, you ken – and his lady is no’ that much better, coming from half the shire off. I ken they have an acquaintance in Balma’ – Purdy is away to luik into it – and they’ll know some rich folk hereabout – just in a passin’ sort of way.’
    Gently nodded and drew on his pipe. ‘So that’s a round-up of the hard facts.’
    ‘Ay,’ Blayne said, drawing out the word. ‘That’s what we have, short of speculation. There’s more to come, but I wouldn’t dilute an honest picture with chancy opinions. You have the facts now – less whatever contribution you may want to give me.’
    Gently puffed. ‘Carry on,’ he said.
    ‘You’ll reserve your information?’
    ‘For the moment.’
    ‘I kent you would,’ Blayne said. ‘A man like yourself is not for rushin’ things. Weel – aweel. What we come to now is a bonnie exhibit to be showin’ an Englishman. Take a luik at this buik,
Mr
Gently – you’ll not have seen its like before.’
    He picked up the blue folio and handed it across the desk to Gently. It was a fat, weighty volume, evidently made up from a high-quality paper. The binding was heavy buckram; on the front cover appeared a gilt dagger, and divided by the dagger stood the legend:
    Let Him Who Scorns The Tartan/Fear the Dirk
    ‘A canny crest,’ Blayne said smoothly, leaning back and watching Gently. ‘It’s an old sayin’, you ken that. But an old sayin’ is whiles current.’
    Gently rested the book on his knees and met Blayne’s look with a curious