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diet. I owned the house I lived in. It had been my mother’s. Trixie suggested we put it up for sale and buy something up here with the money. I hope I can make something of the garden. It would mean a lot to me to be able to grow things, know what I mean?’
    Hamish nodded, and then said, ‘But don’t you miss the theatres and cinemas and all the fun of the city?’
    ‘No, I didn’t have much fun. It’s quiet here and the people are friendly. We’ve had such a lot of help. But that’s Trixie for you. Everyone loves her. She’s going to do a lot for the village. She’s forming the Lochdubh Bird Watching and Bird Protection Society. The first meeting’s at the church tonight.’
    ‘It’ll be an interest for the children,’ said Hamish cautiously. ‘It doesn’t do to go too far with this bird thing. Some of these societies can be downright threatening, telling people they can’t dig the peats because that’s the nesting place of the greater crested twit, or something. But I suppose Mrs Thomas is just interested in finding out about the different types of birds.’
    ‘I suppose,’ echoed Paul. ‘But she likes to do things thoroughly. She’s even starting a Clean Up Lochdubh campaign.’
    ‘Morals?’
    ‘No, litter.’
    Hamish looked along the street which bordered the waterfront. There was not a scrap of paper in sight.
    ‘And she’s going to see Dr Brodie about starting an Anti-Smoking League.’
    ‘My, my, she’ll be on dangerous ground there,’ said Hamish. ‘The doctor smokes like a chimney.’
    ‘I know. Trixie says it’s a disgrace. She says he’s giving all his patients cancer. And she’s had to talk to Angela about the doctor’s diet. You should see what she’s been feeding that man. Chips with everything. Too much cholesterol.’
    Hamish felt uncomfortable. ‘It doesn’t do to interfere with people,’ he said. ‘Brodie’s fifty-seven and looks about forty and he’s never had a day’s illness that I can remember.’
    ‘Oh, Trixie knows what’s best for him,’ said Paul easily.
    They walked on in silence. Hamish remembered David Currie, a thin, weedy man who used to live in Lochdubh. He had a tyrant of a mother whom he adored. ‘Mother knows best’, was his favourite expression. Then one night he had got drunk and had chased his mother down the street with an axe and Hamish had had to rescue the terrified woman. After that, the Curries had moved to Edinburgh. Hamish had heard that David was a leading light in the Jehovah’s Witnesses.
    Archie Maclean was at home. He gave Hamish a welcoming smile and then the smile faded as he saw Paul behind Hamish. He agreed to lend them his cultivator but he was decidedly chilly towards Paul and Hamish wondered why.
    Hamish and Paul worked amiably together throughout the afternoon. Hamish then asked him back to the police station for tea. He put the teapot, two mugs, and a plate of chocolate biscuits on the kitchen table and then the phone in the office rang.
    He left Paul and went to answer it. It was Detective Chief Inspector Blair from Strath-bane. ‘How’s the local yokel?’ asked Blair.
    ‘Chust fine,’ said Hamish.
    ‘Anything going on there?’
    ‘No, nothing.’
    ‘You lucky sod,’ grumbled Blair. ‘Look, the new super, Peter Daviot, is coming over to the Lochdubh Hotel for the fishing. I want you to keep oot o’ his way.’
    ‘Why?’
    ‘For yir own good, you pillock. If he finds you’re daein’ nothing, he’ll close down your polis station.’
    ‘Anything else?’ asked Hamish.
    ‘No,’ growled Blair. ‘Keep away from Daviot. Ah’m warning ye.’
    He slammed down the phone.
    Hamish waited a moment and then phoned Mr Johnson, the manager of the Lochdubh Hotel.
    ‘How would you like a supply of free-range eggs for a month for nothing?’ asked Hamish.
    ‘I’d like it fine,’ said the manager. ‘With this salmonella scare, everyone keeps asking for free-range eggs. Of course, I’ve been telling them