surprise, he ran around and nipped the recalcitrant one in the rear. The ram conceded defeat, baaed loudly, and scampered off to join the rest of the herd, who were grazing indifferently at the side of the road, watched over by the second collie.
The shepherd whistled a signal, and while the dogs circled and got the sheep on the move, the man approached the car and bent into the window.
“ Feashgar mhah, Gill.”
“Good afternoon yourself. Close call that.”
“Stupid creature. It’s no the first time. He’ll get himself killed one of these days.”
The man was crouching down so he could see me better. I glimpsed blue eyes, a strong nose in a weather-tanned face.
“Good dog you’ve got there,” I said.
Politely, Gillies indicated me. “Duncan, this is Miss Christine Morris. She’s from Canada.”
“Is she?” He jerked himself away from the window. “I’d better get a move on.” And he strode off whistling to the dogs, who wheeled the sheep away from the road and across the moor.
Gillies put the car in gear and started off again.
“What’s he got against Canada?” I asked.
“How do you mean?”
“He acted like you hit him with a shinty stick when you said where I was from.”
“He did, didn’t he? Don’t take it personally, he must have been in a hurry.”
“Who is he?”
“He’s a local, an old-time crofter, grows some crops, raises a few sheep. Mostly gets himself a tidy living running his dogs for the tourists. In the high season, he’ll do as many as three demonstrations a day.”
“Border collies are supposed to be the most intelligent of the breeds.”
“I suppose they are if you consider living only to work as a sign of intelligence, which is debatable... as we’ve said.”
“Do you have a dog yourself?”
“No. I’d love one, but I’m at work all day and there’s nobody else who could take care of him.”
There it was, the last bit of information in his dossier.
Not that, given the circumstances, anything could come of it, but I was just the tiniest bit wistful. Paula accused me of being too independent and said I scared off prospective suitors. She was probably right, and it had been almost five years since my last lover had departed with hurt feelings, on his side more than mine, I have to admit. Secretly I found take-charge men attractive, as long as they weren’t arrogant or patronizing. I think the sergeant’s behaviour at the airport had got to me.
There was a beeping from the vicinity of Gillies’s back pocket, and he fished out a cell phone and put it to his ear.
“Sergeant Gillies here.”
I couldn’t hear anything of the other side of the conversation, but he frowned and made a couple of hmm, hmm noises. I caught the involuntary glance over at me.
“Right. I’ll go there at once.” He disconnected.
“News?” I asked.
“Aye. We’ve had a call-in about a man over on the west shore. A local. His body was discovered in his house this morning. Cause of death at the moment is not known, but he’s been dead for a coupleof days it seems... ” He paused, and I could see he was trying to find the right words, words that wouldn’t be too alarming. “According to the report I just received, neighbours told the constable that they saw a hired car leaving the premises late Friday night.”
“A car that fits the description of the one my mother was driving, I presume?”
“Yes. A red Vauxhall.”
Before he could continue, he had to squeeze over to the left, just avoiding a head-on collision with a truck coming towards us. As the vehicle whipped past, I saw three black-and-white border collies, swaying like surfers, standing in the open back.
Gillies said something in Gaelic that didn’t need translation and I waited for a moment for my adrenaline rush to subside.
“So we are to assume Joan was visiting a man, now dead, just before she was involved in a car accident and a fatality.”
“Apparently so.”
Oh great!
CHAPTER EIGHT
“I
The shepherd whistled a signal, and while the dogs circled and got the sheep on the move, the man approached the car and bent into the window.
“ Feashgar mhah, Gill.”
“Good afternoon yourself. Close call that.”
“Stupid creature. It’s no the first time. He’ll get himself killed one of these days.”
The man was crouching down so he could see me better. I glimpsed blue eyes, a strong nose in a weather-tanned face.
“Good dog you’ve got there,” I said.
Politely, Gillies indicated me. “Duncan, this is Miss Christine Morris. She’s from Canada.”
“Is she?” He jerked himself away from the window. “I’d better get a move on.” And he strode off whistling to the dogs, who wheeled the sheep away from the road and across the moor.
Gillies put the car in gear and started off again.
“What’s he got against Canada?” I asked.
“How do you mean?”
“He acted like you hit him with a shinty stick when you said where I was from.”
“He did, didn’t he? Don’t take it personally, he must have been in a hurry.”
“Who is he?”
“He’s a local, an old-time crofter, grows some crops, raises a few sheep. Mostly gets himself a tidy living running his dogs for the tourists. In the high season, he’ll do as many as three demonstrations a day.”
“Border collies are supposed to be the most intelligent of the breeds.”
“I suppose they are if you consider living only to work as a sign of intelligence, which is debatable... as we’ve said.”
“Do you have a dog yourself?”
“No. I’d love one, but I’m at work all day and there’s nobody else who could take care of him.”
There it was, the last bit of information in his dossier.
Not that, given the circumstances, anything could come of it, but I was just the tiniest bit wistful. Paula accused me of being too independent and said I scared off prospective suitors. She was probably right, and it had been almost five years since my last lover had departed with hurt feelings, on his side more than mine, I have to admit. Secretly I found take-charge men attractive, as long as they weren’t arrogant or patronizing. I think the sergeant’s behaviour at the airport had got to me.
There was a beeping from the vicinity of Gillies’s back pocket, and he fished out a cell phone and put it to his ear.
“Sergeant Gillies here.”
I couldn’t hear anything of the other side of the conversation, but he frowned and made a couple of hmm, hmm noises. I caught the involuntary glance over at me.
“Right. I’ll go there at once.” He disconnected.
“News?” I asked.
“Aye. We’ve had a call-in about a man over on the west shore. A local. His body was discovered in his house this morning. Cause of death at the moment is not known, but he’s been dead for a coupleof days it seems... ” He paused, and I could see he was trying to find the right words, words that wouldn’t be too alarming. “According to the report I just received, neighbours told the constable that they saw a hired car leaving the premises late Friday night.”
“A car that fits the description of the one my mother was driving, I presume?”
“Yes. A red Vauxhall.”
Before he could continue, he had to squeeze over to the left, just avoiding a head-on collision with a truck coming towards us. As the vehicle whipped past, I saw three black-and-white border collies, swaying like surfers, standing in the open back.
Gillies said something in Gaelic that didn’t need translation and I waited for a moment for my adrenaline rush to subside.
“So we are to assume Joan was visiting a man, now dead, just before she was involved in a car accident and a fatality.”
“Apparently so.”
Oh great!
CHAPTER EIGHT
“I
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