“Fair enough,” Finlay said. “Do you think I could squeeze by there on the left?”
“It would be a wee bit tight,” Murray said as he peered into the back seat of the car. “We stopped because I thought you were following us.”
“And there you’d be right. I was following you,” Finlay said, and Caitrin’s heart pulsed as she heard Murray’s sharp intake of breath. She was on the wrong side of the car and too far back to surprise him. He would kill her before she rounded the car’s nose.
“Why would you do that?”
Finlay laughed. “If you know another way for me to get from Ballachulish to Corrychurrachan to attend to Brenda MacConnell’s bowed tendons I’d be glad to hear of it.”
“Hmm.”
“Terrible afflictions, bowed tendons.”
“I’m sure,” Murray said.
It went quiet, until Finlay whispered over his shoulder to Caitrin, “It’s all right, I fooled the mug.”
“What’s happening?” Caitrin whispered back.
“He’s going back to the lorry,” Finlay said, then poked his head out of the window and shouted to Murray, “One more thing before you go, Sir.”
Murray stopped and spun on his heel. “Yes?”
“What are you doing?” Caitrin whispered, her blood going cold as she heard Murray’s footsteps returning to the car.
“Stay quiet, I’m in control,” Finlay said.
Murray stopped at the window. “What is it?”
“When we were talking just now, I didn’t want you to go away thinking I was hiding anything.”
“Like what?” Murray said.
“The bowed tendons,” Finlay said. “I said Brenda MacConnell’s bowed tendons, but what I really meant was Brenda MacConnell’s horse’s bowed tendons. Brenda herself has a fine set of gams. Best and straightest tendons in the west o’ Scotland.”
There was a silence that seemed eternal to Caitrin.
“I’m a vet, you see, not a doctor,” Finlay broke the silence. “An animal sawbones, as they say in America.”
“Isn’t that good to know?” Murray said, and she heard him walking away and the lorry engine start.
“You can come out now; they’re leaving,” Finlay said, and Caitrin raised her head above the seat.
“Why did you call him back?”
“I wanted to convince him that we, I mean I, was harmless.”
“If he thought you were lying, that man would kill you without a moment’s thought and then put a bullet in me.”
“I’m sorry. I suppose I was a bit zealous there,” Finlay said. “Should I follow them?”
“Yes. But slowly, and at a safe distance.”
Finlay started the engine and put the car into gear. “I always thought it would be grand to be Bugsy Siegel. Out on the town every night. The Mocambo, Cocoanut Grove, Ciro’s, driving a Cord or a Duesenberg with the hood down along Sunset Boulevard, and all the Hollywood dames you want, and everyone scared of you.”
“You don’t want people scared of you.” Caitrin said nothing more; instead she watched the lorry as it slowed. “They’re turning left. Where are they going?” She opened her book and scanned the map.
“Not to Fort William. They’re taking the North Argyll; that’s the Corran ferry across Loch Linnhe,” Finlay said.
“I don’t understand,” Caitrin said. “I don’t see any towns west of here. Just a sea loch.”
“There is nothing but a few scattered crofts and a wee harbor in Kilcanan at the dead end of the road. Nobody ever uses it anymore.”
“How far?”
“About forty miles on a winding and badly kept road. Shall we wait a while before we go across ourselves?”
“No, Doctor Finlay. This is as far as you go,” Caitrin said. “If we cross, they’ll know we’re following them, and they are very bad men.”
“Are you sure?”
“Sure, I’m sure. I’ll take it from here,” she said, reached over, kissed his cheek, and slipped out of the car before he could answer.
He called after her. “So sorry about being silly. I got excited and lost my head.”
The sudden change in his demeanor startled her. The exuberance was gone. He looked so sad, deflated, and she thought he might cry. And if he did, she might too.
“You did really well.”
