Unquiet Spirits: Whisky, Ghosts, Adventure. Bonnie Macbird

the laird is most convincing,’ said he. He turned to Charles who loomed next to him. Despite his very fine clothes the man had an aura of violence. ‘Sit down, Chimney, for I perceive that is your nickname. Before your bad back has you limping from the room, exchange seats with your brother and take the hand of your wife, who may very well learn to love you again. Although some effort will be necessary to forgive your philandering.’

      There was an audible gasp from those around the table. Isla McLaren coughed to stifle a laugh. The laird stared at Holmes in some confusion.

      ‘Well, your method bears some explanation,’ said the laird. ‘But you may very well have hit the nail on the head. Has he, Charles?’ Charles said nothing but reddened. Poor Catherine looked down at her lap and I felt a pang of sympathy for her. Alistair offered Charles his seat with a flourish and the elder brother duly changed places and sat, glowering.

      The laird laughed, although with some discomfort. ‘Well, then, you have just given us confirmation, son. You must learn discretion.’ He turned to Holmes. ‘And how did you come to this theory? Pardon us, Catherine.’

      ‘They are not theories,’ began Holmes. ‘They are—’

      ‘I am no philanderer!’ exclaimed ‘Chimney’. He turned to Holmes in a fury, and pounded his fist on the table, making the silverware jump. ‘Be damned man, I will not have my name besmirched.’

      ‘I am merely acting at your father’s behest,’ said Holmes quietly.

      ‘Hmph. I see that you are right,’ said the laird. ‘Charles, you reveal yourself piteously. Get control. Mr Holmes, I demand to know your reasoning. What are the clues?’

      ‘Perhaps it would be best—’

      ‘Sir, I insist.’

      Holmes shrugged, and then turned on his considerable charm. The malice beneath it was obvious to me but masked, I hoped, to others. I glanced at Isla McLaren. Her look of alarm told me I was mistaken. At least one other saw what was ahead.

      ‘It was quite simple. Obvious, really,’ said Holmes. He turned back to Charles. ‘Your wife called you by your nickname earlier when you arose to speak to that waiter. Softly, but I heard it. Your shifting in your chair, obvious discomfort, and the placement of a small pillow to support your lumbar region – none of the rest of the chairs has one – and your particular manner of eyeing the flaxen-haired young woman pouring coffee, and your wife’s observation of this tells me what I need to know. Perhaps your back condition is not due to riding horses, but some other strain. You must take care. And then, the gambling—’

      His furious wife stifled a gasp. Holmes turned to her. ‘By the way, you, my dear lady, must see a doctor and soon. The slight palsy in your hand and your pale face indicate lead poisoning. It could be the use of an inauspicious cosmetic, and made all the worse by drink. Perhaps Doctor Watson could be of service.’

      The laird shifted in his chair. ‘Catherine, see to it, my dear. I will not have you failing when the McLaren clan needs wee ones for our future. We look to you and Isla for an heir. Get yourself in hand.’

      He then turned to Holmes. ‘Well, I do not quite know what to say. But that is simple observation, after all. Anyone might have noticed these things.’

      ‘But anyone did not,’ said Holmes. ‘My methods always seem trivial when explained. If you wish me to continue, I will not offer further explanation.’

      ‘But then where is the fun?’ asked the laird.

      ‘Indeed I do not know,’ said Holmes.

      ‘You are a charlatan!’ said the eldest brother. He turned to his father. ‘There’s no magic here. He has investigated us beforehand; I am sure of it. That I gambled before is well known, but those days are past. He has simply read things and now is making up stories!’

      Alistair turned towards us. ‘Hmm. It is true that you are gratuitously insulting. What is your game?’

      He turned a fierce stare upon my friend.

      ‘No agenda, gentlemen,’ said Holmes, lightly. ‘Recall that it was the laird who invited us here. As to reading, yes, of course I have read up on all the great families of Britain. I make it my business to know those who play a role in business and society.’

      And crime, I was thinking. Although I wondered if Holmes had taken more interest in Isla McLaren’s story than I originally suspected. Might our two days’ delay have given him time to research this family?

      ‘Father,’ said Isla, ‘this is a dangerous recreation. I recommend we instead ask Mr Holmes or Dr Watson to entertain us with an account of one of their more interesting cases.’

      ‘Aye!’ chorused everyone at the table.

      The decision rested with the patriarch, who clearly ruled his extended family with a velvet-clad iron hand. Suddenly he threw back his head and laughed. ‘All right then. Enough. The purse is yours, Mr Holmes.’

      Holmes stood up. I joined him and began to gather the sovereigns into their little suede bag. The laird smiled at me.

      ‘At least one of you has sense,’ he said. ‘And I apologize to you. You were doing nothing more than obliging my request. Please stay for dessert.’

      But Holmes remained standing as I leaned across him to pick up the last of the prize. ‘Thank you, no,’ he said. ‘Come, Watson. And thank you, your Lordship for a most interesting evening,’ he added with a straight face and nod of his head.

      Holmes signalled to one of the waiters for our coats. As he did so, a large platter was brought in with much fanfare. It was covered with a silver dome, and this dome was tied onto the platter with a copious amount of ribbon looped into a frothy bow on top, in which fresh flowers were arranged. Flowers were also strewn around the plate rim.