Scotch Mist by Elizabeth Darrell

feet, he kissed the top of her head. ‘Beth was thrilled, and so will the other two be when they absorb the truth that there’ll soon be a baby for them to play with and mother. Don’t worry. He’ll be swamped with love by the Blackies.’
    Second Lieutenant Stuart Freeman was a lanky young man with mousey hair and very intelligent eyes. He looked warily at the tall, dark-haired man dressed in a charcoal suit – an apparent civilian with a decided air of authority – who had walked unannounced in to the office where he was very volubly swearing at his computer for wiping the report he had taken such pains to compose before lunch.
    Max smiled with sympathy. ‘I know the feeling.’ He offered his hand. ‘Captain Max Rydal, SIB.’
    Freeman scrambled to his feet and completed the handshake. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t recognize you, sir.’
    â€˜No reason why you should have. We’ve never crossed paths before.’
    Max’s identity suddenly registered with the subaltern. ‘SIB? Is there some problem?’ he asked, even more warily.
    â€˜That’s what I’m here to find out by interviewing four members of your platoon.’
    This proof that the focus was not on him did little to reassure, and Max guessed he was fresh from Sandhurst and was trying too hard to be the perfect leader of men. He would soon discover that was a very rare breed. Was his ultra diligence the cause of the ‘hard time’ given to the four who had fashioned a straw dummy to burn on the bonfire?
    â€˜What have they done?’ The cadet training came to the fore as Freeman stood ready to support his men. ‘I’m not aware of . . .’
    Max interrupted by telling him exactly what his men had done, adding, while Freeman’s face flooded with colour, that he was investigating the cause of an explosion which had resulted in a fatality and numerous injuries.
    â€˜Privates Mooney, Rule, Casey and Blair are under suspicion. I need to know what they might have hidden within that corn dolly. They all sound irresponsible enough to stuff something volatile inside it as a joke, and thick enough not to recognize the danger of such an action.’ Max softened his tone. ‘It’s the kind of thing squaddies do with abysmal frequency, you’ll find, when they believe they’re being hard done by. If it isn’t the Platoon Commander, it’s a sergeant or a corporal – anyone who keeps them on their toes.’
    He changed his approach. ‘On the other hand, this quartet might actually have planned what happened as some kind of subversive statement. Get someone to round them up, and I’ll interview them initially in your presence. If I judge there was evil intent I’ll have them hauled off to my headquarters for further questioning.’
    By now looking really apprehensive, Freeman said, ‘I think it would be better for you to see them in the adjacent office. Captain Crooke’s on leave so you won’t be disturbed. The men will talk more freely if I’m not present.’
    Knowing he would say that, Max nodded. ‘Fair enough. I’ll give you the gist of the info I squeeze out of them.’
    â€˜Yes. Yes. Good.’ The younger man picked up his telephone. ‘I’ll organize someone to bring them in for you.’ When he had done that he offered Max coffee. ‘Or tea, if you’d prefer it.’
    â€˜Coffee’s fine. Have them put it in the next office for me. I imagine you’re anxious to sort out your computer blip.’
    Still pink in the face, Freeman said, ‘Oh God, yes. A report that had taken all morning to compile vanished from the screen the minute I logged on again after lunch. It’s presently swimming around somewhere in the ether until I manage to rein it in.’
    Max laughed. ‘Along with a myriad pieces of vital info which have never been reined in and will remain in