Free Whisky From Small Glasses by Denzil Meyrick

‘Everything is here. I’ve no’ had time tae put it on the machine yet, but all the information is up to date. I even log the fishing boats in and out these days. No need to really, since they’re moored here permanently, but, well, there’s so few of them now.’
    ‘So it’s only visiting boats you would normally register?’ Daley hoped he was wrong.
    ‘Nah, nah, Inspector, that used tae be the case, but, you know, we’re no’ all that busy just noo, so I like to keep myself goin’, in case somebody takes it intae their mind that I’m no’ required, if ye get my drift.’ He laughed nervously.
    ‘What about the yachts over there?’ Daley pointed at some pleasure vessels moored at a wooden pontoon. There were three small sailboats and a couple of expensive-looking cabin cruisers.
    ‘No, Inspector, they’re no’ my responsibility. Well, unless somebody breaks the harbour rules, or in some kind of emergency. It’s owned and run by a private company – Newell Enterprises. James Newell’s the main man.’
    ‘Where can I find him?’ Daley took out his notebook, prompting Fraser to do the same.
    ‘Aye, as well as running the pontoon, he has wan o’ these big RIBs.’
    ‘RIBs? What’s that?’ Daley’s lack of nautical knowledge was beginning to show.
    ‘Rigid Inflatable Boat, sir.’ Fraser’s time in Kinloch had not been wasted, ‘Big powerful boats – they go like f—’ He managed to stop himself.
    ‘He takes passengers on trips, Mr Daley.’ Flynn filled the gap. ‘He’s away on a trip tae Ballycastle with a party o’ tourists. He always lets me know his plans – for safety, you understand. He’s a nice big bloke. Used tae be a captain in the Royal Navy. A wee bit hoity-toity sometimes, but sure, we all have our faults.’
    Daley looked out the window. ‘When is he due back? I’d like to have a word with him.’
    ‘No’ until tomorrow. They’re staying overnight.’
    Not to be outdone, Flynn brought his own notebook out of a breast pocket in his shirt. ‘Let me see. Aye, due back about two tomorrow. I’ve got his mobile number here if that’s of any help?’
    ‘Yes, please. Take a note, will you, Constable.’
    Fraser jotted the number down in his notebook.
    ‘Well, thanks, Mr Flynn, you’ve given us a lot to think about.’ Daley held out his hand. ‘I trust you’ll keep our discussions to yourself for the time being – not add to the rumours,eh?’ He smiled at Flynn, who was now shaking his hand enthusiastically.
    ‘Just so, just so, Inspector. And mind, if you need anything else, just gie me a shout. I’m here all day, and half the night sometimes as well,’ he said, somewhat ruefully. The harbour master led them out of the office and to the exit. As he again shook Daley’s hand, he looked around to see who could be watching.
    Noting Flynn’s apparent unease, Daley nodded towards the Jaguar. ‘Who belongs to this wonderful beast?’
    Flynn looked embarrassed. ‘Well, me, actually, just a little indulgence. I’m sure you treat yourself now and again, Inspector?’
    ‘A treat for me is a good malt, I’m afraid I couldn’t stretch to anything like this. It must be, what’ – he looked along the lines of the car – ‘best part of sixty grand?’
    Flynn laughed awkwardly. ‘Oh no, Inspector, that is to say, I got a good deal on it. I sold my scallop boat when I got this job. A treat, as I said.’
    The thought crossed Daley’s mind that this was, indeed, a guilty pleasure, judging by Flynn’s discomfort. His thoughts were dragged away from the car when his phone rang, and he made his excuses and walked to the side of the pier to take the call.
    ‘Hi, darling.’ It was Liz. ‘You’re a hard man to get a hold of.’
    ‘Sorry, I’ve been a bit . . .’ As usual she cut him short.
    ‘Listen, I’ve got some hot news.’ She was clearly in a bar or restaurant; he could hear the chink of glasses and the animated conversation of people consuming alcohol.