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to land. At this point, they d be told there were no refunds. If they argued
for their money back, Creech would pay them, then would drop them off
somewhere on the far side of Skye, pretending they were a mile or so south of
Mallaig.
Reeve liked Creech. He liked him so much he had eventually let Creech keep the
money he d been cheated of.
Creech hated mankind, but he surely did love money. Reeve was counting on this
fact.
Kenneth Creech had a boathouse just north of the town. It was six in the
evening when Reeve got there, having driven through town without stopping. The
sky to the west, out over Skye and the Minch, was a palette of pinks and
grays, thin threads of silver and softly glowing red. Reeve gave it all of a
second of his time then kicked at the boathouse door, which rattled on its
hinges.
The door was locked, but that didn t mean Creech wasn t inside. At last a bolt
slid back and the door opened.
 You ll pay for any damage, Creech snapped, examining his door first and his
visitor second. His mouth made an O when he recognized Reeve.
 Well now, Gordon, he said.  What brings you here?
 Money, Reeve said, holding up a thickish fold of notes.  To wit, my desire
to give you some.
Creech couldn t take his eyes off the cash.  Well now, Gordon, he said, the
tongue darting in and out of his mouth,  you must be wanting a boat.
 How did you guess?
Creech didn t say anything, just ushered him inside. The back of the boathouse
opened onto the Sound of Sleat. Reeve could see the southern tip of Skye. The
larger of the two boats was tied up in the water; it had bench seats both
sides, and could carry a dozen passengers. In the middle of the deck stood the
control console with a small steering wheel, like that of a sports car. In
fact, if you looked closer, there was the MG insignia in the center of the
wheel. Creech had stolen it from a crashed car south of the town. By the time
the insurance investigators reached the vehicle, there hadn t been much left
but a shell.
Creech s other boat was smaller, but boasted an outboard motor and was a lot
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nippier as a result. It had been hauled out of the water and now hung by
winches over the wooden floor. Old newspapers were scattered beneath the hull,
which Creech was in the middle of repainting.
 You re painting over the barnacles, Reeve told him. Creech was wiping his
hands on a rag. The paint tin looked to Reeve like ordinary vinyl silk
emulsion. The color, according to the lid of the tin, was taupe.
 Well, it s a sight easier than scraping them off.
Reeve nodded, and smiled at Creech, who looked nervier even than usual. He
kept jerking his head and blinking his bulbous eyes.
 You know about me? Reeve said.
Creech started to deny it. Denial was an instinct, like breathing. But then he
broke off, knowing Reeve knew.
 I ve heard a few stories, he said at last, sounding like it didn t bother
him in the slightest.
Reeve looked around.  You ve no phone here, Kenneth?
Creech shook his head slowly, then spoke carefully.  I wouldn t turn you in,
Gordon.
 That s unusually friendly of you, Kenneth. What s wrong, isn t there a
reward?
The momentary look in Creech s eyes told Reeve he d never considered the
possibility until now.
 Don t, Reeve warned him.
Creech got back some mobility and went over to the boat, picking up his
paintbrush. He d left it lying on the edge of the newspaper, and some paint
had dribbled onto the floor. He wiped the spot with his rag, but that just
spread the stain farther.
 I m painting this boat, he said.
 I d never have guessed. Reeve paused.  But that s the boat I want.
Creech glanced towards him.  Now? Reeve nodded.  Can t it wait till I m
finished?
 Do I look like a man who can wait?
 No. The word took a long time coming out.  But you surely don t want to take
a boat out at night? Creech paused.  No wait, of course you do. There s less
chance of them spotting you at night.
 Well done, Kenneth. How many police are there?
Creech considered lying, but looked at the money again, the money Reeve was
still holding in his hand.
 There s more where this came from, Reeve told him.
Creech wet his already glistening lips.  Well, there s nobody in Mallaig, he
said,  but I ve heard tell there are a couple of strange faces on Skye.
 Anywhere else?
 Oh, aye, they were in Oban yesterday.
 And Tarbert?
 I couldn t tell you about Tarbert.
 And on South Uist?
 Well, they ve been to your house a couple of times, that much I ve heard.
You re big news around here, Gordon.
 I didn t do anything, Kenneth.
 I don t doubt it, I don t doubt it, but the police used to have a saying in
Glasgow: you don t arrest an innocent man. If they take you in, they ll try
their damnedest to find something against you, even if it means planting the
evidence.
Reeve smiled.  You sound like you ve been there.
 I was in trouble enough in my early days. I m from Partick, remember. One
look at my face I know it s no beauty and the polis would stop me. Creech
spat into the water.
 You ll help me?
Creech considered the question. The tension left his shoulders.  Ach, maybe
I m too sentimental for my own good, he said.  Of course I ll help you.
And he held out his hand for the cash.
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Reeve helped him move the boat back over the water and lower it in, so that
its side scraped that of the larger vessel, leaving smears of paint on the
wood. Creech went to check that the boathouse doors were locked. When Creech
returned, Reeve was standing at the workbench, his back to him. Creech licked
his lips again and moved forward quietly. When Reeve turned, Creech let out an
involuntary gasp. Reeve was holding the biggest knife Creech had ever seen. He
had it in his right hand, a coil of Creech s best rope in the other.
 What& what are you going to do? Creech said.
Reeve showed him. He sliced through the thick braids like they were string, [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]