Fire in the Blood (12 page)

Chapter 23

Next morning Annie was working on her laptop outside the cabin, sitting at the picnic table, when Jack appeared from inside the cabin, looking dishevelled and slightly anxious, hopping from one foot to the other. ‘Look Annie, I’ve found the thingy in the lean-to shed round the back for having a pee, but where does a man go if he wants to do something, ahem, a bit more
substantial?
’

‘Like a Brad?’ asked Annie.

‘Sorry?’

‘A Brad Pitt. You know, a shit.’

‘Yes,
exactly
.’

Clearly enjoying the exiled city dweller’s discomfiture, Annie spelled it out, ‘It’s exactly the
same
place, boss. I know that it looks just like a simple hole in the ground, but it’s actually quite a sophisticated composting toilet. So what you do is sit down on the wooden throne, remembering of course to drop your trousers first, and then when you’re finished sprinkle a couple of handfuls of sawdust from the red bucket down into the chamber below, to cover your doings. I know it all sounds a bit mad, but it’s actually
very
clever and there’s
no
smell at all.’

‘We’ll see about
that
, after I’ve christened it,’ said Jack. ‘But where’s the bog roll? Or do I need to scrape a couple of handfuls of seaweed off the rocks?’

‘Oh, I meant to tell you about that, it’s got to be special compostable toilet paper and we’ve only got one roll of it left. So, it’s on the ration until further notice. I’ll give you two sheets every morning and that’s it.’

Five minutes later a much more relaxed Jack re-appeared and enquired, ‘Annie, sorry to be a pain again, but where can I plug in my George Foreman grill?’

‘Eh, that would be back in Glasgow, boss.’

‘Pardon?’

‘There’s no mains electricity here. When I said this place is off the grid, that’s literally what I meant. There’s just a small solar panel up on the roof, which charges a couple of twelve volt batteries stored in a box round the back. So there’s enough juice to power a few LED lights inside the cabin and charge up a laptop, or a couple of mobile phones. But it’s all you need really.’

‘No it isn’t. What the hell am I going to do about breakfast? I’ll starve.’

‘No you won’t, I brought muesli and bananas and I can make some coffee and toast on the little propane gas hob.’

‘But that kind of healthy muck will just upset my stomach. Remember that I’m from Glasgow, Annie. If I don’t get some
proper
grease down my neck, first thing in the morning, I come out in spots.’

‘Oh, and boss …’

‘What?’

‘Before you ask, the bath’s
that
way.’ Annie pointed towards the beach, ‘But the tide’s out at the moment and it goes out a
long
way here so, if you do want a proper wash, it’s probably best to wait till around lunchtime.’

After gagging down the healthy option breakfast, Jack took a walk in the sunshine with Annie along a stretch of beautiful deserted beach, near the cabin. Halfway along the foreshore, Jack even removed his shoes and socks, which Annie took as a good sign, evidence that he was in a more relaxed, reflective mood.

‘Look, I know I’m not the easiest person to work with sometimes, Annie, but these last few days you’ve been great. Really patient and kind, putting up with all my moans and groans, because I’m way out of my comfort zone. When I think about it, almost all of the really nice people I’ve known in my life have been women, with one or two exceptions.’

However, Annie was not entirely happy with the intended compliment. ‘I’m no saint, believe me, I have my moments like everybody else. And actually, I think the female compassion thing is a bit of an urban myth. Not all women are like that. Some of them have a really cruel streak.’

With feeling Jack replied, ‘Tell me about it.’

By way of illustration Annie then told Jack a joke. ‘Okay, Auntie Peg laughed her head off when she told me this one last week. Did you hear about the young disabled guy, sitting alone at the water’s edge on a beautiful beach just like this in his wheelchair, staring out at all the people enjoying themselves in the sea? Three women walking along the beach see him sitting there all alone and feel sorry for the poor boy, so they decide to try and cheer him up. The first one says, “Have you ever had a hug?” The boy looks up, shakes his head and says, “No.” She gives him a big hug and then walks away. The second woman then says to him, “Have you ever had a kiss?” The boy again sadly shakes his head and says, “No.” So she gives him a long passionate kiss and also walks away. The third woman then approaches, smiles seductively and bends to whisper in his ear, “Hey kid, you’re kind of cute for a spaz. Have you ever been fucked?” The young man smiles hopefully up at her and replies, “No” And she says, “Well you
will
be when the tide comes in,” and walks away.’

Jack laughed and nodded, ‘Yeah, I was married to the
third
one.’

As they continue their stroll along the shore, Annie explained her take on problematic relationships. ‘God, I’m no expert, but I think maybe women are just better than men at sharing their feelings. Communicating about the everyday things that really matter, you know. Like family, money, clothes, sex and chocolate. All the important stuff.’

Yawning, Jack agreed, ‘Yeah, one of my ex-wife’s pet subjects was lecturing me about how we never talked about our true
feelings
.’

Annie was puzzled and said, ‘Sorry?’

Mimicking his ex-wife’s voice, Jack continued, ‘There were times when we were first married and, you know, lying in bed after a bit of rumpo, she would say things like, “You never ask me how I’m feeling, or what I would like to do.” Being a top notch detective, I suspect she was referring to the, er … foreplay department which, of course, was completely unknown territory for most Scottish men back then.’

‘You mean you
never
asked her?’ asked Annie, shaking her head in disbelief.

‘Not really. Usually at that point in the proceedings with the job well done, at least from my end of things, I’d farted and fallen asleep. That’s the way she tells it, anyway. And before you say anything, I admit it. Guilty as charged. I used to be a completely unreconstructed male chauvinist pig. But in my defence, I think most men were thirty odd years ago. Attitudes have changed a lot since then, mostly for the better.’

Not convinced, Annie scoffed, ‘Well it’s no wonder she divorced you. And what do you mean you
used
to be an unreconstructed male chauvinist pig?’

‘Looking back, I think I really must have been a major disappointment to her. I remember another time when she asked me if there was anything I could do, you know, to last longer in bed. I couldn’t believe it.’

‘But at least she was talking honestly about the issue, trying to find a solution before it became a major problem,’ said Annie, in agony aunt mode. ‘So what did you do?’

‘I switched the alarm clock off. Worked for me,’ said Jack with a grin.

Chapter 24

Later back at the beach hut Annie started grilling hamburgers for lunch on the gas barbecue, while Jack watched and chugged on the last can of beer. ‘Okay, Annie, I happily concede that you were right. If Burke is looking for us, he’ll never find us here. In fact, if you took me back up to the main road and spun me round a couple of times, with my eyes shut, I’m not sure that I could find my way back. So that’s all well and good, but tell me this … how do we solve the urgent cash flow problem while we’re stuck here?’

‘I’m on it. My Aunt Emma, who owns this place, is a partner with a law firm over in Dumfries. When I phoned her last night from the hotel, she told me that they might be able to shove some work our way, you know, to help cover our expenses and just keep things ticking over. I’ve got to phone her back shortly.’

‘But this is
boonieville,
Annie. All that happens here is varying degrees of fuck all.’

Annie was defensive and said, ‘Well that’s where you’re completely wrong. Okay, obviously this isn’t Glasgow, the big city, but there’s a lot more crime goes on down here than you might think.’

‘Yeah, like
what?
Pissing in phone boxes and molesting sheep on a Friday night?’

‘Well there
is
still a fair bit of sheep worrying, granted, but not so much of the peeing in phone boxes anymore, you know, with everyone using mobiles. Anyway, if you look after the barbie I’ll go and phone Emma back, to see what’s happening.’

Annie took the Mondeo back up to the main road to get back on the phone network and make the call, leaving Jack to attend to lunch. Ten minutes later she returned smiling. ‘Okay boss, it’s time for you to get back up in the saddle. We’ve got our first jobs. Do you want the good news first, or the not so good news?’

‘The good news,’ said Jack warily.

Annie was clearly enjoying herself. ‘Well since you’re a big country music fan, this first job should be easy peasy.’

‘Great, what is it?’

Smirking, Annie checked her notes from the phone call and announced with a smile, ‘Cattle rustling.’

‘Annie,
please
tell me you’re kidding,’ said Jack, grimacing.

Annie affected her best cowgirl accent and replied, ‘Nope partner, the bad guys done rode into town and then moseyed off with a herd of farmer Kemp’s steers.’

‘Who cares?’ snorted a singularly unimpressed Jack.

‘Well farmer Kemp
for starters. They were worth £30,000.’

Sarcastically Jack replied, ‘And this is the good news you’re telling me? So what’s the other job? Don’t tell me, I suppose somebody’s been poking the local sheriff’s horse.’

‘That’s quite a good guess, actually. Somebody’s been poking an ex-sheriff’s wife.’

Grudgingly resigned to working out in the sticks, Jack then sighed and enquired about payment for the two jobs. ‘Okay then, how much?’

With impeccable timing, Annie replied deadpan. ‘Twice a week apparently, Tuesday and Thursday afternoons, when she’s supposed to be out jogging.’

‘Ah yes,
very
good Annie. I’ll rephrase my question, what’s our fee?’

‘Ah well, that’s the not so good news. This is the
country,
boss, and they’re quite keen on bartering for goods and services down here, so there’s no actual money as such for the rustling job.’

Incredulous, Jack spluttered, ‘Fucking
bartering
? So what do
we
get? A handful of beads and mirrors?’

‘No, but we
do
get the use of a car
and
all the bags of well-rotted manure we can carry away.’

‘What the f …’

Annie smirked and said, ‘That last bit was a joke, you know, about the manure. But if we do take the job, we’ve solved our car problem. Personally, I think it’s a real no-brainer.’

Feeling that his previous dull boring life in the city was now a world away and prepared to trade almost anything for a couple of quiet hours of serious drinking time, perched on his favourite stool back in the Royal Bar, Jack pleaded, ‘Look Annie, I’m
way
out of my depth. I don’t know anything about the country and all the crazy shit that goes on down here. I’ve never even owned a pair of wellies, for God’s sake.’

‘You’re right, but you’ll learn fast. Okay, which one will we do first?’

‘The rustling job, I think. So we can get hold of the new wheels. With that big bash at the back end, the blistered paintwork and fire damage, Senga stands out like a sore thumb. If by any chance Burke
did
come looking for us down here, we don’t want to make things easy for him.’

Chapter 25

Jack and Annie pulled up outside a neat stone-built farmhouse. As they got out of the car and looked around, Jack unerringly stepped in an extremely fresh, steaming cow pat and exclaimed, ‘Oh shit!’

Smirking, Annie tip toed successfully through the brown-stained obstacle course, towards the front door and commented
‘Correct. Hey, you must be some kind of detective. Relax will you, boss,
everybody’s
got some of it on their shoes down here. It makes you look like a local.’

Struggling to get the worst of the stinking mess off his shoe, Jack grunted back, ‘
Yokel
, more like.’

‘Look, we’re back at work now, okay, so let’s just try and be professional and focus on the case. Oh, I nearly forgot, we’ve to remember that the farmer has some kind of speech impediment, which he’s apparently very self-conscious about. But Emma says it only appears when he gets really angry and starts swearing.’

Right on cue, a burly, ruddy-cheeked son of the soil, straight from central casting, appeared from a nearby shed and, after wiping his hands on a filthy boiler suit, he offered a hand in greeting, which Jack inspected closely and then shook with obvious reluctance.

‘I’m Thomas Kemp, you two must be the private eyes.’

In the absence of any response from Jack, Annie did the introductions. ‘Yes, pleased to meet you Mr. Kemp, I’m Annie James and this is my boss, Jack Davidson. I understand you’ve had some valuable stock stolen recently.’

The farmer looked Jack up and down accusingly then said, ‘You’re not from round here, are you?’

Turning away as he continued scraping his soiled shoe on a clump of straw, Jack muttered in reply, ‘No way … thank fuck.’

Annie quickly interjected, ‘I was actually born in Kirkcudbright, and Mr Davidson here is from Glasgow.’

‘Handled many rustling cases, have you?’ said the sceptical farmer.

‘Nope, but on the plus side, I have seen every cowboy film John Wayne ever made.’

Digging Jack sharply in the ribs with her elbow, Annie said, ‘Perhaps you could just tell us exactly what happened Mr Kemp.’

Bristling at the memory, the farmer’s rumoured speech impediment swiftly slipped into top gear. ‘What happened was some sneaky
ba ba bastards
cut my
fa fa fucking
fences and stole
fa fa fifty
of my
ba ba beasts
, that’s what
ba ba bastard
happened. Three weeks ago it was.’

‘Any idea who might have done it?’ enquired Annie.

‘Oh I
know
the
ba ba bastards
who done it alright, I just can’t prove it and neither can the police. They’re too busy chasing
ba ba bastard
drug dealers round here to bother about me, or my beasts. Don’t get me started about the local police, they’re just
fa fa fucking, ca ca ca …
’

‘Cunts?’ added Jack, trying to be helpful.

‘No …
ca ca clueless.
’

Suddenly taking more of an interest in the proceedings, with the prospect of an early conclusion to the assignment, Jack eagerly asked, ‘So you actually
know
their names?’

‘Oh aye, they’re the
ba ba Barlows
. They’ve a farm up in the hills near Laurieston Forest. Not that they’ve ever done much in the way of
proper
farming. That would be too much like hard work for
them
. Trailer trash is what they are, always been in trouble ever since they could walk. There’s three
ba ba ba
…’

Once more, in an attempt to move the stuck needle on the farmer’s gramophone, Jack prompted, ‘Bastards?’

‘No,
ba ba brothers
. Big tough looking
ba ba bastards
they are. Anyway a neighbour told me they were heard laughing and boasting, about stealing my beasts, to their scum bag pals in a local pub, the Cross Keys Inn, just outside Laurieston village.’

‘And are you thinking they might come back again for a second go? That would be a bit cheeky, surely.’

‘I don’t know, but there’s been three similar cases within fifty miles of here in the last year and they all happened exactly the same way. It’s always at the full moon, when the weather’s dry and clear so they can work without any lights. They do their homework in advance and only target remote fields, with cattle that are ready for market. Then they cut the padlock off a gate, or cut through fences and round up the beasts, load them onto a cattle transporter and away down the road they go, to meet up with a buyer and get paid a load of cash for one night’s work. I told the local police all of this, but they looked at me as if I was
ba ba bastard
mad.’

Jack exchanged glances with Annie and then asked, ‘So how much do you reckon your cattle were worth?’

Wincing, the farmer replied through gritted teeth. ‘It was a right sore one. I reckon I would have got the thick end of £30,000 and it was eighteen months’ work to get the
ba ba beasts
ready for market.’

‘So what exactly is it you want us to do?’

‘I’ve just got a nagging feeling in my water, because I’ve seen the Barlows driving slowly past my place twice in the last week, like they were sizing things up for another go. Anyway the next full moon’s at the end of this week and there’s no rain forecast. So what I want you to do is watch my fields for four nights in a row, in case the
ba ba bastards
show up again. If they do, try and get pictures, registration numbers and then follow them till the police can be bothered to put in an appearance.’

Scratching his chin, Jack considered the proposal. ‘I see, and in lieu of an actual fee, I understand that, for four night’s work, you’re very generously offering us the use of a vehicle, for the time we’re down here working in the area. Is that correct?’

Enthusiastically the farmer replied,
‘That’s right, a lovely little motor she is.’

‘Can we perhaps see it, before I give you an answer?’

Ominously the farmer then replied,
‘Of course you can, she’s round the back. I’ve just been chasing all of the chickens out and I’ve given her a good hose down, so she’s looking good and ready to go to work. I’ve even put a couple of gallons of diesel in her. But, ahem, don’t be asking me what colour it was.’

Fearing the worst, Jack and Annie followed the farmer to the rear of the farm house, where an ancient dilapidated, soft-top Land Rover was parked. Jack snorted and
s
hook his head in disbelief. ‘Wait a minute, I’ve sure I’ve seen this before, on a television programme about the Second World War. I think it was in the Western Desert in North Africa, with Montgomery. Excuse us for a minute will you, Mr Kemp.’

Jack took Annie by the arm and walked her out of the farmer’s earshot.
‘Annie, this is
completely
mad. Four nights work babysitting a herd of bloody cows, in exchange for the loan of that bloody death trap. I don’t believe it. And remember last week you were taking the piss out of poor old Senga.’

Logical, calming and thinking of the bigger picture, Annie then counselled, ‘Look, the people who live around here are a bit conservative, especially the farmers. Everything works by word of mouth and recommendations get passed around on the bush telegraph, apparently. So Emma says that if we do okay on this job, then we can start charging normal fees. Anyway remember, we need to get rid of Senga fast, in case Burke comes looking for us. Hiring a replacement car would cost a lot of money that we don’t have. So please, let’s just take the deal on offer, okay?’

As they prepared to drive away from the Kemp farm, having left Senga parked forlornly in the corner of an old byre, Annie once again looked accusingly at Jack and wrinkled her nose as she attempted to force open a sliding window on the Land Rover.

‘Oh my God, here we go
again.
Was that you?’

‘No way. I thought it was
you
. But, being a gentleman, I was sitting here gagging in silence.’

Annie gasped with relief as she finally heaved the driver’s window open. ‘Okay then, the farmer must have missed something
really
important with his hose.’

Deadpan, hugely enjoying Annie’s discomfiture Jack bent over to take a look under the driver’s seat and then advised, ‘Look, relax will you. It’s just a big lump of cow shit
there
, right under your seat. Everybody’s got some of it in their car down here. It’ll make you smell like a local, Annie.’ Then with a conjurer’s flourish, Jack produced something else that had been hidden under the Land Rover’s front seats. ‘The good news is that tomorrow’s breakfast is taken care of, we’ve scored two lovely big fresh eggs.’

Annie quickly slid the driver’s window shut and hissed, ‘Oh God, keep your voice down about the eggs, will you, or the farmer will be over wanting to renegotiate terms. You wouldn’t believe what some of them are like down here.’

As they slowly drove along the narrow back roads back towards the beach cabin, Annie was thinking out loud, ‘We really should try and get a look at the
ba ba Barlow
brothers in the flesh.’

‘Good idea, let’s try their local
ba ba boozer
later on. Hopefully, we can pick up a decent bite to eat there and maybe get lucky if they come in.’