74
Maggie and McGuire were no longer on their bench
when Mackie and McIlhenney appeared, moving quietly down the lane,
each clad in dark donkey jackets over thick polo-necked sweaters
and police uniform trousers. They moved carefully in the dark,
looking first towards the house, then at the moonlit beach.
‘Here, sir.’ Maggie Rose’s voice came from behind a
clump of sand dunes. She and McGuire had moved from the beach as
darkness had approached, to a point from which they could view both
lane and house, without being seen from either.
Mackie and McIlhenney sat on the sand beside them.
McIlhenney laid a brown paper carrier bag against the dune.
‘Thermoses and sandwiches, he explained to McGuire, who said
nothing, but reached into the bag and brought out a half bottle of
OVD rum.
‘What’s this then, hair tonic?’
‘It’s okay for you pair,’ McIlhenney grumbled.
‘We’re here a’ night.
‘No action?’ Mackie asked.
‘No, sir,’ said Maggie. ‘The upstairs curtains have
been half drawn, like you see them now, since about four-thirty.
The room’s dimly lit so we’ve only seen figures moving about; only
two as far as we’ve been able to tell. No one’s been out since they
arrived. The car’s never moved.
‘Do you want us to hang about for a while in case
they get off their mark?’
‘No, Maggie, that’s all right. It’s after eight
now. They’re not going back to Cumbernauld tonight. If they decide
to go to the pub we’ll jus let them get on with it, unless more
than two of them come out.
‘Your case is in the boot of my car. It’s parked
behind yours. Which hotel will you be in, if we do need to contact
you?’
‘We’ll book into that big grey one just off the
main road. I think it was called “The Beachview”.’
‘It would be in a place like this. Okay, off you
go. Be back here for eight sharp.’