He parked outside the tea shop and they went in.
"You're latish," said Miss Black. "I was just thinking of closing up. But sit down. What can I get you?"
"Just tea," said Olivia.
When Miss Black bustled back with a fat pottery teapot, milk and sugar and cups, she smiled at Olivia and said, "The tea's real. No tea bags here."
"Won't you join us?" said Hamish. "This is Chief Inspector Chater from Glasgow. Although we are both officially on holiday, I'm still puzzled by poor Tommy Jarret's death."
"Yes, it is puzzling," said Miss Black, sitting down at their table. "He was so young, so confident, although always talking about seeking the meaning of life and that's apt to rob anyone of their sense of humour."
"Yes, there was talk of him being religious," said Hamish. "His Bible was never found and I wonder why. His parents would like it."
"Oh, the Bible," said Miss Black. "He left it here the day before he died."
CHAPTER NINE
This strange disease of modern life.
– Matthew Arnold
"Have you got it?" asked Hamish.
"No, I gave it to Mr. McSporran."
"When?"
"I took it over on my way to work, the day Tommy died. I was in a rush and I saw Mr. McSporran in the lower field with his sheep and so I gave it to him."
The door opened and two ramblers walked in.
"Excuse me," said Miss Black, and rose to serve them.
"We'd better go and have a look at that Bible," said Olivia.
"I don't understand." Hamish shook his head in bewilderment. "Why would Parry keep it and not say anything?"
"Maybe he did give it to Tommy, and whoever killed the boy found it and took it away. I mean, you did say you thought there ought to be more of that book he was writing. So maybe they took that away and took the Bible as well."
Hamish's face cleared. "That must be it."
Olivia frowned. "You know Parry well?"
"Yes, we're friends. I usually drop in on him for a cup of coffee when I'm out this way."
"Did not his choice of tenants strike you as odd? One junkie and one magic mushroom picker? Bit of a coincidence."
Hamish darkened. "It can't be anything more than a coincidence."
"But wouldn't it be an idea just to ask him about a few things?"
"Aye," said Hamish heavily. "Let's go."
Parry's car was once more parked outside his croft house. Hamish knocked at the door and Parry opened it.
"A few words," said Hamish.
"Right you are," said Parry cheerfully. "It's all over the place about your kidnapping. This'll be that woman inspector I read about."
"Yes, this is Olivia. We've just had tea at Miss Black's. Parry, she says she gave you Tommy's Bible on the morning of the day he died."
Parry struck his forehead. "So she did! Didn't I tell you?"
"No, you didn't. Why?"
"I'm telling you, that boy's death put it clean out of my mind."
"So may we have it, please."
"I put it out with the rubbish."
"Why?" demanded Hamish.
"Och, like I said, I had forgotten it so I didn't want to be accused of keeping it so I put it in the rubbish, like I said."
Hamish's heart was sinking by the minute. There was very little rubbish put out from a croft house. Food refuse went onto the compost heap. Paper was burned. But all Highland crofters were superstitious. None of them would burn a Bible.
"And when did you put it in the rubbish?"
"A couple of days ago."
"Look, Parry. That was withholding evidence. That was destroying evidence."
"But the case is closed!"
"You knew I had my suspicions about the lad's death. And what about the parents? Didn't you think they might have wanted their son's Bible?"
"It's no big deal, Hamish. Och, you're just showing off in front of the lady here."
Hamish loomed over him. "I'll be back, Parry."
"Where are you going?"
"Neffer you mind, Parry. Come on, Olivia."
"Where are we going?" she asked when they were in the Land Rover.
"We're going back to the police station to get a couple of powerful torches and we're going to search the council dump."
"It'll be like looking for a needle in a haystack, Hamish!"
"I've got to try."
"You know," said Olivia, "Parry's story did ring true."
"Not to me. Any decent crofter would have got in touch with me and confessed to still having that Bible if he had genuinely forgotten about it."
"So is there something fishy about him?"
"I can't think of anything but getting that Bible. There's Sean Fitzpatrick's cottage. He might lend us a couple of torches and save us going all the way home."
Hamish climbed down and Olivia stayed in the Land Rover.
"What is it now?" grumbled Sean when he answered the door. "I thought you might be getting over your adventures."
"I wondered if you could lend me a couple of strong torches," said Hamish.
"What for?"
"I'm going to search the council tip."
"That should take you about a year. What are you looking for?"
"If you must know, a Bible."
"A Bible? If it had been jewellery or money or something useful, I would have sent you to Crummy Joey."
"Who the hell's Crummy Joey?"
"He's the chief scavenger. Searches the tip for valuables."
"And where can I find him?"
"You'll find an old wooden fisherman's hut, right down on the shore near the tip. He lives there. But a Bible!"
"Have you got torches or not?"
"Oh, I suppose I'd better let you have them or I'll never get any peace."
He turned and went into the house and came back with two torches. "Return them to me in good order," he said. "And while you're at it, you might get me some spare batteries."
"All right." Hamish leapt into the Land Rover and gave the torches to Olivia.
He told her about the scavenger as they drove along. "Not very hopeful," said Olivia gloomily.
"It's a chance. Then we'll go back and grill Parry."
Olivia suppressed a sigh. She had been looking forward to preparing a dinner for Hamish and going to bed with him.
"Why don't you report it to headquarters?" she said. "They could get a squad of men out to comb the tip in the morning."
"You forget, the case is closed."
"But we're still heroes to them. They'd do it." She took out her mobile phone. "I'll call them now."
"No!" said Hamish sharply.
She studied his face in the light from the dash and then she said quietly, "You're trying to find some proof before landing your friend Parry in it."
"If we find the Bible by some miracle and there's nothing in it but scripture, then I'll return it to his parents and say no more about it."
"You didn't even ask Parry about the coincidence of having two drug addicts as tenants."
"I'll get to that," said Hamish grimly.
At last the council tip outside Strathbane came into view in the moonlight, a wasteland of garbage above which the ever restless seagulls wheeled and dived.
"There's a wood shack over there," said Hamish, pointing to a shed of a building on the shoreline. "And there's a light on."
He drove the Land Rover as near it as he could. They climbed down and walked over the tussocky grass and then across shingle to the door of the hut.
He knocked on the door and called, "Police. Open up!"
There was a shuffling of feet inside and then the door creaked open. A truly filthy old man stood there, illuminated in the candlelight from the room behind. He was clutching a packet of biscuits. His rags were covered in biscuit crumbs.
"What do you want?"
"We're looking for something you may have picked up on the tip."
"I only get wee bits and pieces," whined Joey. "Why should I not pick up what folks are eager to throw away?"
"We're not accusing you of anything," said Olivia soothingly. "We only need your help."
"Come ben." He shuffled backwards into the malodorous hut which was crammed with old newspapers, odd bits of iron, pieces of china, biscuit packet wrappings, old tyres and various glass jars and bottles.