“Tourist types this time of year? Not many,” said the regular bar girl, Sallie, as she delivered a few Guinnesses to a pair of regulars near the dart board. “Haven’t had but a one these past few weeks. No monsters in our parking lot.”

“We’ve got a ghost,” said the bartender, as if making a pitch. “Two.”

“Aye, but you don’t advertise him, that’s your problem,” Sallie told him. “What we need is a good sighting or two.”

“Nice American girl a week or so ago, about the time you’re talking,” said the bartender. “Good-lookin’, if she’d put on a little weight up top. Needs titties. Wouldn’t kick her outta bed, though.”

“Nice arse, you ask me,” said an older man standing at the bar nearby.

“Christine Gibbon bent her ear that one night,” said Sallie. “Maybe she’s the one you’re looking for, Inspector.”

“I didnae say I’m looking for anyone,” said Gorrie.

“I don’t know that Chrissie bent her ear,” said the bartender. “The Yank paid for the drinks.”

“What’s happened to the wee boy, Inspector?” asked Sallie.

“They’re hoping a sister will take him.”

“Best thing for it.”

“Did anyone else listen to Christine Gibbon?” Gorrie asked.

“Only five of us ever here most nights, Frank,” Sallie said. “Until the winter ends.”

“And school lets out,” added the bartender. “That’s when business picks up.”

“You serving kiddies now?” said Gorrie.

“What I mean is, that’s when the tourists come up,” said the bartender.

“No one else unusual?” Gorrie asked Sallie.

“We’re not unusual enough for you?”

Gorrie hunched his shoulders and considered ordering a drink. But then he remembered his wife and her schoolteacher friend.

A schoolteacher in Scotland in March, the middle of the school year.

“Did Miss Gibbon mention a Cardha Duff?” he asked them.

“She might have,” said Sallie. “One of the girlfriends?”

“Describe the tourist, would you?” Gorrie said, instead of answering.

“Five-eight, curly auburn hair not very long, no tits as I told you.”

“Dark clothes, large purse. Has money, though she tries to hide it,” added Sallie.

“How so?”

“Leather bag, very nice shoes. Drove a common Ford, blue little thing, type anyone would rent.”

“Did she use a credit card?” Gorrie asked.

“Cash. No trouble with the money like some Yanks,” said Sallie.

“Where was she staying?”

“Didn’t say.”

“Still around,” said the man who had spoken before. “Saw ’er at Grant’s using the telephone one day. Chemist’s the next.”

“Couldn’t’ve been her,” said Sallie. “She had a mobile phone—I saw it poking from the top of the bag.”

“I wouldn’t forget an arse like ’ers.” The man went back to his beer.