Читать книгу The Pretender’s Gold - Scott Mariani, Scott Mariani - Страница 15

Grace caught up with him again in a quiet corridor as he made his way back towards the station reception. Boonzie said, ‘I suppose ye’re gonnae give me a hard time for what happened in there.’

She shook her head, more in disbelief than in disagreement, and despite all the sadness of the moment he saw the same twinkle of mirth on her face as she’d tried to mask in the interview room. ‘Honestly, Mr McCulloch. What a way to speak to my superiors. Big fat arse and wee scrawny arse?’

‘Didnae take it too well, did they?’

‘You tell it like you see it, that’s for sure.’

‘Is there any other way?’

‘What was all that stuff about a salmon poacher? I didn’t understand.’

Boonzie was often slow to trust people, but he got a good feeling about Grace Kirk. He briefly ran through what Ewan had told him about the strange phone call he’d received the evening of Ross’s funeral.

‘Do you think it’s true?’ she asked, deeply perplexed.

‘Ewan’s nae liar.’

‘But was the poacher telling the truth? What if it was just a stupid hoax? Some idiot calling to stir things up?’

‘I dinnae think so. Ewan thought he knew him.’

Grace stared at Boonzie. ‘Knew him? From where? Who is this person?’

‘Ewan couldnae place the name,’ Boonzie said. ‘All we know is, the poacher is someone with a secret. Who needed tae get it off his chest and warn Ewan tae watch his back.’

She shook her head in disbelief. ‘The whole thing is insane. This is Kinlochardaich. Murders don’t happen here.’

‘Until the day they do,’ Boonzie replied.

‘And what’s with the gold coins? I didn’t understand that part either.’

‘Nor me, hen. Ewan never mentioned anything.’

‘I don’t like this one bit. Please. I’m asking you. Won’t you just go home and let the police handle this situation?’

Boonzie’s face hardened like granite. He replied, ‘I came here tae help Ewan. It’s too late for that. But I’m no leavin’ until I find the people who did this.’

Grace could see that no force on earth could change his mind. She paused, glanced over her shoulder as though to check nobody was watching, then quickly took a slip of paper from her pocket and pressed it into his hand. It was a grocery receipt, on the back of which she’d scribbled a phone number.

‘That’s my personal mobile. Will you call me if you need anything?’

Boonzie said, ‘Like what?’

She flushed slightly, shrugged. ‘Ewan and I … we were close once, a long time ago. We weren’t much more than kids back then. Anyway, he often used to talk about you. Said you were like a father to him. After what’s happened I just thought – just between you and me, you know? – that if there’s anything I can do to help …’

Boonzie was touched by her words. It didn’t surprise him to hear that she and his nephew had known each other better than she’d let on at first. He didn’t miss a lot, and had noticed the way she talked about Ewan. He also got the impression that she wasn’t overly impressed at the way her provincial cop colleagues were handling the case. But he kept all that to himself and replied simply, ‘That’s very kind of you, lassie. I appreciate it.’

‘Just please, don’t go poking around too much.’

‘Because of what those clowns Macleod and Coull might think?’

‘No, because you seem like a nice man, and there are obviously some nasty characters about, and I wouldn’t like to think of you getting hurt. There’s been far too much of that already.’

He smiled. ‘I’ve come across a few nasty characters in my time, and I’m still here. Dinnae you worry aboot me, lassie.’

A door swung open and a pair of uniformed officers stepped through it, talking. One of them smiled at Grace. The other just looked, then glanced at Boonzie. Grace said, ‘I’d best get ready for my shift. Where are you headed now?’

‘Back tae Kinlochardaich.’

‘Will you be okay? Not many buses go out that way.’

‘I’ll be fine.’

‘You take care, all right?’

Boonzie thanked her again, and watched her hurry off. He was a straight-ahead kind of man who either liked people or he didn’t, and he’d decided that Grace Kirk was one of the good ones.

She’d been right about the buses, too. It was nearly two hours before Boonzie finally got back to the village. On his way out of the police station he’d stopped at the reception desk and, as next of kin, been given an envelope containing some personal effects Ewan had had on him when they’d brought him in. There wasn’t much: wallet, loose change, keys. No phone. Boonzie guessed that the detectives were hanging onto that, for what it was worth.

As he unlocked Ewan’s front door to let himself inside, it felt wrong to be here alone. Boonzie wanted his presence to make as little impact as possible on his nephew’s home. If he had to stay here a few days, he’d kip on the sofa rather than use a bedroom, and wouldn’t use the kitchen. Boonzie had been trained to sleep rough, live off the land and leave no trace of his passing, and spent many years instilling those same skills into others. Old habits died hard.

But the moment he stepped inside the house, such thoughts were forgotten as he saw the obvious signs that someone else had been here. Someone not as worried about disrupting the place.

Ewan’s house had been completely turned over.