The Whisky Affair (Raymond Armstrong Series)

by Michael J Gill

  Raymond took off his jacket, rolled up his sleeves just an inch and announced, “Okay, who is next?”

  Thirty minutes later, when the crowd was subdued somewhat, he was totally wacked. He looked at Louisa with a smile.

  “Welcome to my world,” she said, a smile beaming across her face. “A bit busier than your private tastings?”

  “Oh, yes!” He unpacked some supplies to replace what had been used to handle the crush.

  “What do you have there?” asked Louisa eyeing the whisky sample that was back in his hand.

  “Mortlach 34, from a very polite young man at that table,” he said pointing across the room.

  “Yes, they’re a really good independent bottler,” she clarified.

  “What would be the difference between their Mortlach and one from the distillery?”

  Louisa thought for a second. “They buy the casks direct from the distillery and continue to age them. Sometimes they will finish them in a different cask for a year or so to offer their own expression.”

  Raymond looked a tad confused.

  “Let me have a nose, will you?” asked Louisa.

  He watched as she nosed the Mortlach 34 then waited for her commentary.

  “More sherry than normal. So, they bought the cask from Mortlach many years ago. Aged it for many years and on the last year before bottling placed the whisky in a different sherry cask for one more year.”

  “Okay,” said Raymond, a little less confused.

  “Most important thing is; do you like it?”

  “Love it,” he said now cradling it again against his chest.

  “Right, have another break and enjoy yourself. I am used to doing these events on my own.”

  Raymond moved off, keeping Louisa in his sights. He had seen a room at the back of the ballroom, with a sign reading: BLIND TASTING TRIVIA. Another sign beneath announced that the ten-pound entrance fee was a donation to support guide dogs.

  Well, I might as well find out if I am any good at this single malt whisky hobby. I have sampled quite a bit in my time, he thought.

  He checked to see Louisa was fine on her own and then paid to enter. He was given a pen and paper with questions from one to eight. He analysed the room as well as each question to see what was required, before deciding to participate. He saw that each table had four whiskies representing their own region of the official Scotch regions.

  Table one’s signs read: WHICH OF THESE MALTS IS NOT FROM ISLAY, THE QUEEN OF THE HEBRIDES?

  Piece of cake, he thought, nosing the first. Number three for sure. That one is from the western Highlands. Next…

  When he finally made it to table eight, he was confident he would do well and could probably answer them all correctly. Which of these is a blended scotch? No problem, he thought, confidently writing down the answer.

  He handed in the card with his name and all his answers circled and walked back to the Bute table. With only fifteen minutes remaining, the table was relatively quiet so he went to find Gordon’s friend.

  “Andy, I want to thank you for arranging our trip to Auchenagie. It was my last memory of time with Gordon and I will treasure that for a lifetime.”

  “I still can’t believe it,” he replied.

  They made small talk, catching up on whisky trends, in general. In between their chats, Andy served a constant line of whisky fans, all clamouring for a taste of their favorite range of expressions. Old distilleries with a modern taste. He understood the mystique and fascination that whisky fans were discovering with this company. His day in the field, standing right there where Auchenagie produced whisky one hundred years ago, had made him an instant fan.

  At the end of the evening, the lights flickered to signal consumers that they had five minutes until closing time. The MC tapped on the microphone to bring everyone’s attention to the front of the room.

  “Thanks to all the suppliers for giving up their time and bringing knowledge and their finest single malts to this event. To complete our wonderful evening, I would like to announce the blind-tasting results and extend thanks to so many of you who gave it a go. We have raised a nice amount of money in support of guide dog training. In fact, some of the suppliers have chipped in to round off the number to ten thousand pounds.”

  The crowd applauded enthusiastically.

  Now the results: In third place Raymond Armstrong. And we have a tie for first place with all eight correct answers – Catherine Dodds-Smith and Julie Prince.

  Not bad, Raymond thought. He should have known he’d be beaten – that he would lose to the ladies, as usual.

  He turned to Andy. “They say that genetically ladies have a shaper nose than men. I read that somewhere in a wine magazine.”

  “Excuses, Raymond. Take the loss like a man.” Andy laughed.

  Raymond walked to the Bute table and offered to help Louisa pack up. However, she was on a roll, chatting away to a group of fans. He poured himself a wee dram of Big Bute and continued his walk around the room.

  Intrigued, Raymond tried the latest expression from Glemonarngie with a malt that had been matured in three separate wine casks that in the end, were married together. Delicious, he thought. Both Lagavulin and Bowmore had been experimenting with rum casks which proved to be the surprise of the evening for him. His favourite was the Arran 18. It seemed to provide everything for his palate in a single malt whisky.

  He left the ballroom briefly to take in the night air and planned to head back momentarily to help Louisa. He into the MC in the hotel foyer. “Excuse me, but which questions did I get wrong?”

  “Just one actually… Islay.

  “No, can’t be. I picked number three, which I swear was a coastal,” Raymond clarified.

  “No, that would be a Bunnahabbin, from Islay.”

  “Damn it!”

  CHAPTER 29

  Raymond had snagged the last first class seat available. After a discussion with the staff at Glasgow Airport he managed to get a seat next to Louisa for the flight from London to Toronto. They landed in Heathrow with plenty of time to spare and made their connection to Toronto without a hitch. The plane took off on time, which was a surprise since Heathrow was a complete overload with a disaster only waiting to happen. Fortunately, the new London airport was on schedule to open the next year.

  Once they had reached a cruising altitude of thirty-seven thousand feet he unfastened his seat belt and leaned over to see what Louisa was reading. The new issue of Whisky Today Magazine.

  “I still find it quite bizarre that you are coming with me, Uncle Raymond.,” she said, looking up.

  “So tell me about the ladies-only event, since I won’t be getting an invite.”

  “Do you remember a few years ago when whisky tastings became so popular on Twitter?” she reminded him.

  “I do. Thought it was quite bizarre, actually.”

  “Did you ever participate?”

  “No, far too busy and really never have got my head around Twitter. I don’t mind Facebook – well at least when someone has an important message. Too many pictures, usually. So how do you set up a tasting on Twitter?”

  “Well, these three ladies from different parts of the world take turns sending in samples. No labels on the bottle and so it was always blind and that was the exciting part. No matter what level you were in whisky nose and taste, it was a challenge. It took over, almost overnight, with all the distilleries becoming involved and providing the samples.”

  “I do remember that one of the Canadian Tweets helped put you on the map with What a Beaut!”

  “She did! Actually she backed up the statement with a great review of our whisky. There are so many whiskies today with catchy names and labels. She said, ‘I really mean What a Beaut and do apologize for the pun.’ If you follow her, she is quite good with the puns. Anyway, her review went totally viral. There are so many ladies that now participate on Twitter with whisky. All corners of the world are covered, with six prominent ladies and a few of us in the ind
ustry. A top master blender is also quite active on Twitter.”

  “I thought you were the top blender in single malts?”

  “Not like the lady I am referring to. Rachel is the best.”

  Raymond ordered a large Johnny Walker Blue Label whisky. After all, he was flying first class.

  “I need to get the Bute 12 on Air Canada,” said Louisa seriously. “What do you think of the Johnny Walker?” she asked while Raymond took a long sip.

  “I love it, even if it’s made by the big guys. I did some research on the Blue Label and it does have some amazing malts in the blend. Royal Lochnagar is one of the main components and it comes with the royal seal of approval. How can you can beat that?”

  “You and your whisky facts. They have done well with the premium blends, I must admit. Look at all the kafuffle with Cardhu. It was a leading single malt around the world…until they needed so much of it for their black, blue, and all the other colours of the rainbow.”

  “Have they produced more since they decided to look after everybody?”

  “No, they ship Cardhu to Spain. And some goes to the USA and Canada, I believe.”

  “Anyway, enough about whisky,” said Raymond. However, whisky really was the only subject that took Raymond’s mind off Gordon’s death. And Anne.

  And it just might be the same for Louisa.

  Louisa had suddenly turned quiet. Her eyes were watery, her body shaking.

  “Hey, I know it’s hard,” he said while squeezing her hand. She nestled her face into his shoulder and cried for several minutes.

  “If I keep myself busy it’s easier. But now on this plane… Tell me about the two of you when you were kids. Dad often told stories about what you did on weekend and holidays – trainspotting wasn’t it? You do know there was a movie with that name but it was all about drugs.” She gave a giggle, while taking a tissue from her bag to wipe her eyes.

  “Yes, we loved those days. We planned a trip almost every weekend in the summers. It might be to a busy station or somewhere out in the countryside where we could find a good view. We would pack a lunch of banana sandwiches and a flask of tea, then perch on a rock at the side of the track and wait in anticipation. The feeling of seeing a locomotive in the distance, turning the sky to gray with large puffs of smoke and hear the powerful sound of the locomotive building many miles away. Gosh, it would have me and your dad jumping for joy. We would get ready, watching, listening as the immense power drew closer and closer, and then the smoke engulfed the sky, and the smell of burning coal filled our nostrils.

  “Then the powerful beast would go close by at full speed, and the ground vibrated beneath us.

  “There were thousands of steam trains back then, all neatly laid out by class in the train book. The object was to spot each one and underline it in your book. Completing a class was the goal and it was a huge thrill when you spotted the last number you required to complete a class.

  “We would ask each other if we needed the train number and grab our books to check.”

  “How fascinating. You’re a good storyteller Uncle Raymond. I think it’s time I got some sleep though.”

  Within seconds Louisa was asleep while Raymond continued to pull up the old memories and sip from his Johnny Walker.

  ***

  They were served morning breakfast with all the trimmings because they were in first class. This is really good coffee. Louisa was standing up, doing what look like stretching exercises.

  “You look better this morning. How did you sleep?” she asked.

  “Slept soundly. I do a feel a bit better and am looking forward to the whisky events in Toronto.”

  “So, you will be taking Anne to my whisky dinner tonight?”

  Raymond almost choked on his coffee and for the first time in days he felt himself smile.

  “The Isle of Bute is a small island,” she continued. “We hear everything that goes on.”

  “I bumped into her at the hotel a few weeks ago. Thank you for the invite. I will ask her.”

  CHAPTER 30

  The taxi made slow progress through downtown Toronto. It had only been in the last few years that Raymond started to appreciate international travel. It had been all work and no play in the past.

  His three favourite cities in Canada were all in the east: Toronto, Montreal, and Halifax. Toronto was a huge city compared to the other two. However, in those days, Raymond had been on assignment and had no time to enjoy all the entertainment the big TO had to offer.

  Raymond checked his watch. Already 10:30 in the morning. Certainly not rush hour.

  “What’s the holdup?” he asked the taxi driver. “Has there been an accident?”

  “No, it’s just normal driving in Toronto,” the driver replied.

  The tall and impressive CN Tower finally appeared on Raymond’s left. He looked both ways, taking in the busy downtown area, noting all the building and skyscrapers. It certainly lacked the architectural elegance of Montreal, but made up for it in energy, he decided. He liked being a tourist, taking in all the sights.

  Last time he was in Toronto, ten years earlier, he had helped to kill a man. Kind of took the edge off.

  All cities looked the same back then.

  “We are here,” Raymond said, tapping Louisa’s shoulder.

  “Oh sorry. I must have dozed off,” Louisa replied.

  They checked into the Royal York, took the elevator, and got off on the 5th floor. Louisa’s room was to the left, Raymond’s to the right.

  “Okay, I will see you tonight for dinner. I have saved you two seats at the top table with me. I have to get ready for the ‘ladies-only’ event this afternoon. It will be so much fun.”

  Raymond smiled. “Tonight. Two seats. See you then. Oh, call me when you head out,” he said as he walked down the corridor.

  He took a long shower, found the bathrobe, and lay on the bed. Okay, here goes. He sent a text message to Anne. ‘Whisky dinner tonight at 7.30. Would you be my date?’

  Ten minutes later. ‘Okay then, if you are twisting my arm.’

  He dressed in casual jeans and a golf shirt, made sure his cell was on, and headed outside. The day was sunny, but a chill in the air made the temperature drop to just under twenty degrees.

  He strolled around the big city, taking in the sights, and decided to have lunch at a Gastropub. The range of crafted beers was immense and he tried to choose one by studying the draft handles, most with names he had never heard.

  “Can I help you, sir?”

  “Well, to be honest, I have no idea. I drink bitter at home.”

  “Nice and hoppy?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay, try this.”

  The bartender poured Raymond a pint. “Detour, from the Muskoka region of Ontario,” he said, looking proud of himself.

  “Muskoka? Where is that exactly?” Raymond asked.

  “The locals call the area cottage country. Two hours north of here, if the traffic is cooperative. It’s where Canadians in this part of the country have cottages by the lake – use them for weekend retreats.”

  Raymond sipped on the beer, enjoying the hoppy characteristics from this IPA-style of beer. He remembered reading somewhere that Indian Pale Ale was brewed with more hops and a higher alcohol rate to survive the long voyages to India. While nothing would ever compare to his favourite ale – Landlord Bitter, this was certainly hoppy and enjoyable.

  “I think one more beer and a burger,” he said.

  “All the works, sir? I recommend it.”

  “Yes, please.”

  “Good choice.”

  He had no idea what all the works would be in Canada, but what the heck, he was starving. He nodded approval of the guy’s recommendation.

  Both the beer and the burger were delicious. He walked back to the hotel and decided to take a nap. He’d hardly slept on the plane and wanted to be in top form this evening. It could be an interesting night.

  CHAPTER 31

  Mitch took in a
ball game that same evening. He’d always wanted to check out Toronto’s Sky Dome and on this particular night his team, the Royals, were in town. As a teenager, he had often made the long drive from Tulsa to watch the nearest Major League Baseball game. The Royals were an excellent team and he enjoyed spending the weekend there, taking in a game, and meeting his connection.

  He had two sources for his merchandise, one in Dallas and the other in Kansas City, on the Missouri side. He always found it weird to have a KC in two states and watched the Royals in Missouri while enjoying his steaks and coke connections in Kansas State. There was something about the liquor laws that confused him and he could not quite remember what it was, except the laws were far more liberal on the Missouri side.

  After the long lines at Border Control and Canadian Security asking him a pile of questions, this Toronto trip was a welcome break. He had also kept various scenarios running in his head about how he would kill Louisa Reid…

  Mitch managed to secure a seat behind home plate just as the ump shouted, “Batter up!” He heard the sweet sound of a bat making a perfect connection. He watched as the ball cleared the field and ended up in the stands where fans scrambled to grab it. The Jays’ first home run of the evening.

  He bought popcorn and a Molson Canadian. Far better than the lame American ballpark beer. On the next play, the Blue Jays’ batter smoked a hit down into the corner.

  There was a group of young girls in their twenties sitting beside him, all wearing tight Blue Jays t-shirts, jumping up and down, hugging and yelling. The one next to him had amazingly large breasts that were now doing a dance right before his eyes.

  “Are you a Jays’ fan?” she asked, displaying a wide smile with perfect, white teeth.

  “I sure am.”

  On any other given night, he would gladly socialize with the young women and charm the pants off the one standing next to him. Perhaps he’d even get really lucky and she would bring a friend back with her to his hotel suite.