The Bothy
By Hamish Brown

AGAG'S GROOVE (continued)


(If you missed the first episode of this story it can be found here.)

Then, bit by bit, it came to him. Just a straight slip would do. At the top of the climb. There would be no evidence with that. Or would there? Betty's father could well be suspicious and if there was any probing a motive enough would be discovered. Men had murdered for a lot less. Maybe he could do something to the car next time she took it off by herself, her next Keep Fit night? But that's all movie stuff too. He hadn't a clue how to go about it, never mind the time needed. The climbing accident would be best. Maybe encourage her to solo something and con her about the grade. Hope she'd fall. He'd not even be present. No suspicions then. She was too turned on for that though, she knew just how well she did climb and she'd want to read the description anyway. Oh shit! There had to be a way. If only he could fix it so he wasn't there. Nobody would make any dangerous background checking then.

The answer came to him in the owl hours of night. He'd get Norrie to do it. Take her up something. Agag's would do. Promise it was to study the line carefully so she could lead it the following weekend - except there wouldn't be one. When she unroped at the top it would only take a wee shove. People were often careless at the top of a climb. Accidents had happened like that before and never any alarm bells ringing. Great!

Except Norrie's eyebrows vanished into his fringe at the very idea. Sure, he knew they weren't exactly a happy family but that's no reason to actually kill the wife. And by proxy. Use him! "You think I'm effinn mad?"

"No; just aboot tae gang bankrupt," Allan sneered. "Wi the insurance money we're aff the book. Betty's nethin tae me."

"Well, I like her."

"Merry her then!"

They argued blue murder every moment they had in private. Norrie simply wasn't the type to do such a thing but neither was he the type to relish the prospect of bankruptcy. A direct threat from the bank had him sick and sweaty with fear. He couldn't even despair at the thought that there was no way out. There was. He looked at the letter in his hands as they sat at the table in the corner of a shed in the yard that served as office and, without lifting the tired eyes, he squeezed out the words Allan longed for: "I'll dae it".

"Good lad!" Allan yelled, and came round to thump him on the back. He turned away without looking and nearly knocked over the figure of a winged Mercury that they'd been forced to bring inside as a prim lady of known determination had sworn next time when she came to collect her concrete bunnies, she was going to drape a towel round the statue to hide its immodesty. With luck, Allan thought, the old witch would never collect her bunnies. Once they'd got the insurance money they'd be away, at least he would be.

"Onythin just tae be shot o this lot," Norrie sighed.

"Exactly," Allan giggled, to earn a glare, "But I'll be killin twa burds wi the ane stane: the failed business and the failed wife, baith the gither". It was a pity they couldn't do Betty's father as well but then, they'd have no call to see the old man ever again once the proprieties had been attended to.

With the ploy determined Allan even became quite pleasant to his wife which simply drew the response, "It's no like you. You're efter summit ah bet".

Allan just stopped himself from crowing, "Hoo much dae you bet?"

He knew and inwardly purred like a cat watching a dinner party and sure of a saucer of cream at the end.

They carried off the ploy quite effectively. The public plan was that three of them would do Agag's together, then the following Sunday Betty could lead Norrie up it, that way placating the old man who objected to husband and wife ropes, even though they had no kids or dependants. But the second weekend would never be.

Allan, as planned, carelully "forgot" his rock boots so dropped the others off at Jacksonville while he rushed on up to the Fort to buy another pair in Nevisport. He'd be back to join them after Agag's. Betty was quite happy with this and Norrie, licking his lips, nodded agreement.

(To be continued next month.)

Be sure and check out Hamish's books on the family page.

You can reach Hamish by snail mail at 26 Birkcaldy Road, Burntisland, Fife KY3 9HQ.

You can find more articles in the archive under The Bothy.

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