left the cafe and followed Durban at a safe distance. He wasn't hard to tail. His height, his bald head, and the distinctive grey suit made him an easy target. I followed along about twenty yards behind until we reached Queen Street station.
He walked straight onto a train, and I had a bad moment when I thought I'd lost him, but when I boarded I spotted him further down the carriage. I took a seat where I could watch the back of his head, and settled in.
By the time the train left ten minutes later, it was standing room only. I realized I didn't even know where the train was headed. The conductor helped me out with that, announcing stops at Stirling, Dunblane, Gleneagles, Perth, Dundee, Stonehaven and Aberdeen. When the guard came round to collect tickets I cut my losses and bought a single to Perth. I was pretty sure Durban wouldn't commute any further than that.
I got worried when he didn't disembark at Stirling, but at least the crowd had thinned. When he got out at Dunblane I slipped out a safe distance behind him.
I'd been in the town before, some ten years previously. A train from Dundee broke down, and a group of us had decamped for two hours in the pub opposite the station. That was the limit of my local knowledge. I hoped he didn't live too far from the station-I might have some trouble finding my way back.
By the time we got down to the Station Hotel there was nobody between us, and I had to drop back further as we walked up the High Street towards the Cathedral. It was getting dark, and I almost lost him again when he turned into the driveway of one of the small cottages in the Cathedral Square. I walked past his door, and saw him moving around in the front room, putting on lights and checking his mail. It looked like he was home.
I checked out the area, looking for somewhere I could lurk without drawing too much attention to myself. I noticed that there was a pub, The Tappit Hen, across the square with outside seats, and decided to mix business with pleasure.
I had to enter the bar to buy a pint, and I got strange looks from the locals as I ran in, ordered a beer, and rushed out with it again. Durban was still in his front room, settled in front of a huge television set. I settled down for a wait.
He kept watching television, and I did the rushing trick in the bar again before, about nine o'clock, he finally moved. A light came on in the garage at the side of the house and he drove a large sliver 1960's Rover out onto his small drive. He parked it outside the house, and my heart sank as he waved across to me.
"Goodnight, Mr. Adams!" I heard him shout. "With all that coffee, and now the beer, you must need some relief, so I thought I'd let you know I'm off to bed now."
His laugh echoed around the square as he went back indoors, and I put my head in my hands. Some detective I turned out to be. I went back to the bar, slowly this time, and ordered another pint. At least the beer was good. The only other good thing to come out of the debacle was that I was now sure that Durban had something to hide.
When I finished my beer I walked over to his car. It was a thing of beauty; a forty-year-old classic in mint condition. The leather on the seats gleamed as new, as did the vast expanse of woodwork on the dashboard. There was a suitcase on the back seat, but I didn't think I'd get away with breaking in to the car to find out what was in it.
I heard the noise of feet on gravel and looked up.
"Can I give you a lift to the station, Mr. Adams?" Durban said from just outside his doorway. "I wouldn't want you to catch a chill on the way home."
"Are you sure you can't tell me anything about the amulet?" I asked. I had to have one more try-he knew I was onto him, so it couldn't hurt.
"As I've said, I have no information that would be of any use to you. Nothing you would understand, anyway," Durban said. "I would go home and get some sleep, Mr. Adams. If you want to find Johnson's amulet you're going to have a busy day
He walked straight onto a train, and I had a bad moment when I thought I'd lost him, but when I boarded I spotted him further down the carriage. I took a seat where I could watch the back of his head, and settled in.
By the time the train left ten minutes later, it was standing room only. I realized I didn't even know where the train was headed. The conductor helped me out with that, announcing stops at Stirling, Dunblane, Gleneagles, Perth, Dundee, Stonehaven and Aberdeen. When the guard came round to collect tickets I cut my losses and bought a single to Perth. I was pretty sure Durban wouldn't commute any further than that.
I got worried when he didn't disembark at Stirling, but at least the crowd had thinned. When he got out at Dunblane I slipped out a safe distance behind him.
I'd been in the town before, some ten years previously. A train from Dundee broke down, and a group of us had decamped for two hours in the pub opposite the station. That was the limit of my local knowledge. I hoped he didn't live too far from the station-I might have some trouble finding my way back.
By the time we got down to the Station Hotel there was nobody between us, and I had to drop back further as we walked up the High Street towards the Cathedral. It was getting dark, and I almost lost him again when he turned into the driveway of one of the small cottages in the Cathedral Square. I walked past his door, and saw him moving around in the front room, putting on lights and checking his mail. It looked like he was home.
I checked out the area, looking for somewhere I could lurk without drawing too much attention to myself. I noticed that there was a pub, The Tappit Hen, across the square with outside seats, and decided to mix business with pleasure.
I had to enter the bar to buy a pint, and I got strange looks from the locals as I ran in, ordered a beer, and rushed out with it again. Durban was still in his front room, settled in front of a huge television set. I settled down for a wait.
He kept watching television, and I did the rushing trick in the bar again before, about nine o'clock, he finally moved. A light came on in the garage at the side of the house and he drove a large sliver 1960's Rover out onto his small drive. He parked it outside the house, and my heart sank as he waved across to me.
"Goodnight, Mr. Adams!" I heard him shout. "With all that coffee, and now the beer, you must need some relief, so I thought I'd let you know I'm off to bed now."
His laugh echoed around the square as he went back indoors, and I put my head in my hands. Some detective I turned out to be. I went back to the bar, slowly this time, and ordered another pint. At least the beer was good. The only other good thing to come out of the debacle was that I was now sure that Durban had something to hide.
When I finished my beer I walked over to his car. It was a thing of beauty; a forty-year-old classic in mint condition. The leather on the seats gleamed as new, as did the vast expanse of woodwork on the dashboard. There was a suitcase on the back seat, but I didn't think I'd get away with breaking in to the car to find out what was in it.
I heard the noise of feet on gravel and looked up.
"Can I give you a lift to the station, Mr. Adams?" Durban said from just outside his doorway. "I wouldn't want you to catch a chill on the way home."
"Are you sure you can't tell me anything about the amulet?" I asked. I had to have one more try-he knew I was onto him, so it couldn't hurt.
"As I've said, I have no information that would be of any use to you. Nothing you would understand, anyway," Durban said. "I would go home and get some sleep, Mr. Adams. If you want to find Johnson's amulet you're going to have a busy day
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