The shop owner was all smiles as Ben dumped the rest of his purchases on the counter and took out his wallet to pay. ‘Don’t sell that many of the ghillie suits, even fewer of the night-vision goggles,’ he commented happily. ‘Then all of a sudden, that’s two of each sold in the same week.’

Ben looked at him. The shop owner went on grinning and nodding. ‘Aye, sold the last pair to an older gentleman. In fact, strangely enough, he bought the exact same items as you. It’s almost uncanny, thinking about it.’

Ben felt something click inside his mind. He took out his phone and brought up the photo of Boonzie to show him, the way he’d done with Holly the barmaid and the old guy in the Kinlochardaich Stores the day before. ‘Would this be him?’

The shop owner peered over the rims of his glasses to get a focus on the photo, then looked up again, nodding in recognition. ‘That explains it. Friend of yours, then?’

‘My dad,’ Ben said. ‘We were planning on doing a bit of woodland stalking. Then maybe take a trip down to Glen Etive to see if we could bag a red deer.’

Dad. Boonzie would have killed him for this.

‘Och, that’s nice,’ the shop owner said. ‘Father and son. Just like the old times. How it ought to be.’

‘I thought we were going to get kitted up together, but the crafty old so-and-so’s very competitive. Always trying to get the jump on me, like he’s got something to prove.’ Ben smiled and shrugged. ‘Just his way, I suppose.’

‘I know what you mean. My father was just the same, God rest his soul.’ The bush-baby eyes clouded with tender nostalgia.

‘So you say he bought the exact same items?’ Ben asked.

‘As far as I remember.’

Great minds think alike, as the saying went. But trained minds think even more alike. Boonzie had been following the same trail as Ben, only he was several steps ahead. Ben had to hope he could race fast enough to catch up. He asked, ‘When he was in here?’

‘Two or three days, I think.’

‘Two? Three? Which? I’d be much obliged if you could tell me exactly.’

Maybe if Ben hadn’t been forking out several hundred pounds the shop owner might not have been so willing to help, but he reflected for a moment and then said with a smile, ‘My memory’s not what it used to be. Hold on, I can tell you exactly.’ He spent a few seconds tapping and prodding his computerised till with rectangular reflections of the screen showing on his lenses. ‘Here it is. It was four days back. I remember now. Your dad was the last customer of the day. He turned up just as I was about to close.’