“We’re with the police,” Hamza said, and the newcomer’s face lit up with relief.
“Seriously? The police? Oh, brilliant! Brilliant! Quick. Come quick.”
He hurried out of the bar again. At the table, the other detectives reluctantly set down their cutlery, got to their feet, and joined Hamza and Sinead in following the man outside.
They all stopped when they saw the road. Or, more accurately, when they saw what was on the road.
“Sheep,” Tyler muttered. “That’s a lot of sheep.”
And it was. Dozens of them. Hundreds, perhaps, cluttering the whole area and blocking the road.
“They’re everywhere,” the man who’d come running in announced, just in case the detectives were unable to see that for themselves. “My dog got off the lead and chased them down the hill. I don’t know what to do!”
“DS Khaled. DC Neish. Now’s your chance to make amends for past failures,” Logan said, patting both men on their shoulders. “Get those sheep off the road and back onto the hill. Though, maybe try and no’ set them on fire, eh?”
He ushered Ben and Sinead back into the pub, leaving the other two detectives to deal with the wayward flock. He was feeling quite pleased with himself, too, though that passed quickly when he saw the table, and the small dog standing on it, his face buried in a plate of black pudding.
“Oh,” Logan spat. “You dirty, thieving wee bastard!”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Once the sheep situation was resolved, and the dog had been repeatedly informed that he was an arsehole, the team returned to the Strontian station to divvy up the workload.
After some debate, a couple of complaints, and a bit of reorganisation, they finally came up with a plan that everyone was happy with.
They were taking two cars—Hamza and Ben in one, Logan and Tyler in the other. The first car would go to the station in Fort William, where the detectives would access HOLMES 2, the secure computer system that, theoretically at least, gave them full access to past and ongoing police investigations across the UK.
Considering that DI Forde’s experience with the software was both minimal and disastrous, it was an odd choice to send him to accompany Hamza on this particular mission, but he’d insisted, and Logan didn’t have the inclination nor the energy to overrule him.
The second car would continue up the road past Letterfinlay, where Logan and Tyler would pay a visit to the house owned by the loan shark, Dinky. If they were lucky, the man known as Ally Bally would be there.
Sinead, for her part, was staying behind in Strontian and would be roping in the two local Uniforms to help her go through the seventy-odd issues of The Beacon newsletter, which Gary at the pub had begrudgingly provided them with after some persuasion.
It was, of course, highly unlikely that the newsletters would turn up anything relevant to the case, but there was always a possibility that something of interest might turn up in the stack of fading, photocopied pages.
There had been some debate over who would assume responsibility for Taggart. Despite the multiple tellings-off the dog had received, he’d looked pretty pleased with himself since he’d wolfed down everyone’s starters, and Sinead eventually decided that, for the animal’s safety, it was better that he stayed behind with her.
After everyone had said their goodbyes, she and the dog stood watching the rest of the team make their way to their respective cars. Logan was taking the BMW, naturally, and had sent Tyler to the village shop to grab some plastic carrier bags and cleaning supplies so any vomit-based emergencies could be quickly attended to.
Ben was content to let Hamza drive, so he could sit back and take in the scenery. In fact, they were going to take a longer route around, heading up past the Corran Ferry terminal, until they met the Mallaig road half an hour or so further on. He packed a flask of tea and some biscuits for the trip, and was already talking about stopping to get some photos up at the head of the loch.
“Aye, well, you pair just enjoy your wee day out,” Logan told them, as he pulled open the door to his SUV. “I’ll be sat here listening to this arsehole the whole way.”
“How come we’ve not got biscuits, boss?” asked Tyler, opening the passenger door.
“Who says I don’t?” Logan replied, sliding into his seat. “But good luck finding them.”
Sinead waved, and Taggart wagged his tail as they watched the cars pull away. Tyler blew her a kiss and she smiled back at him, but then the BMW and Hamza’s Audi turned onto the main road and she lost sight of them as they headed off east on their separate quests.