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for agreeing to see me Mr Mariner.’
    Mariner was normally good at placing accents but the closest he could get with Dyson’s was somewhere north of the border. ‘That’s no problem,’ he said.
    ‘How are you?’ Shipley asked. ‘I saw your picture in the local rag. That explosion thing. Christ.’
    ‘You were involved in that?’ Dyson echoed Shipley’s horror. ‘It must have been awful.’
    ‘It wasn’t much fun.’
    ‘Hideous I would think,’ Shipley said. ‘But you’re here to tell the tale. Thank God, eh?’
    Dyson was mortified. ‘Look, I had no idea,’ he said. ‘If this is a bad time—’
    Mariner shook his head. ‘Not at all. It will be good to see the place occupied. As Mr Shipley’s probably explained, I seem to spend most of my time at my partner’s house now so it’s lying empty much of the time.’
    A squall of icy rain blew down. ‘Why don’t we go inside?’ said the agent.
    The tour of the three-floor cottage didn’t take long but Dyson seemed impressed. He ran his hand over the varnished inlaid wood of the cupboards. ‘I love these old places. When was it built?’
    Mariner gave him a potted history of the place, as much as he knew. ‘The original drawings are even knocking around here somewhere. I’ll try and remember to look them out for you.’
    ‘Great, thanks. It looks ideal for me. I’d been looking at flats and bedsits but rooms would suit me much better. All I need is a bolthole to save me from having to retreat back up the motorway every week. I’ve been living in hotels up to now but that can be pretty soul-destroying after a while and financially it’s really not viable.’
    ‘Well some of my stuff is still here and I do come back from time to time, but this is really just a stop-gap arrangement until we decide what to do.’
    ‘And meanwhile I’ll find out if I can make a go of it down here.’
    ‘What kind of business is it that you’re in?’
    ‘Security.’ Dyson dug in an inside pocket and passed Mariner a business card. ‘Domestic mainly. I’m pretty well established in the north but would love to make it work down here, too.’ He smiled. ‘I could start right away. I noticed that you don’t have a system. I could do an assessment for you if you like.’
    ‘To be honest I’ve never felt the need.’
    Shipley cleared his throat. ‘I should have said. It’s Detective Inspector Mariner.’
    ‘Ah.’ Dyson responded in the way that most people do.
    ‘I hope that won’t make a difference,’ Mariner said, knowing that sometimes it could.
    But Dyson seemed relaxed enough about it. ‘I’ll just have to make sure and keep my nose clean, won’t I?’
    They all smiled at what they knew was a well-worn line.
    ‘Where’s your main base?’ Mariner asked.
    ‘I’m originally from Galloway.’
    ‘That’s a beautiful area.’
    ‘Yes, it is. A man’s got to earn a living but I’d love to retire back there.’ Dyson gestured towards the shelf of battered Wainwright Guides. ‘I see you’re a walker yourself.’
    ‘It’s the best way to get some peace and quiet, I find.’
    ‘You’ll have to recommend some local routes for me. Stuck in the car all day visiting clients, exercise is the thing I really miss.’
    ‘I’ll do that,’ Mariner said, hoping that Dyson wouldn’t be looking for company too. For him one of the attractions of a good walk was the solitude. ‘When are you thinking of moving in?’ he asked.
    ‘Right after the holidays if that’s okay. Do you want me to give you a call first?’
    ‘No. The references seem fine. Move in when you’re ready.’
    ‘Cheers, I appreciate that. I’ll probably dump some of my kit for now and come back from time to time.’
    ‘Whenever you like.’
    ‘Well, we should be going,’ Shipley prompted.
    ‘Aye. Back to the bosom of the family and all that. There’s snow forecast for later today and I’d like to miss it if I can. What about you? Getting together with the folks for the