‘Do you know what his job was in Libya, Bri? Before everything kicked off, I mean,’ said Daley.
‘No, what?’
‘A nurse. Saved a few lives on the journey here, by all accounts.’
‘An’ he comes here and gets arrested for helping a man lying in the street. Makes you wonder,’ said Scott.
‘Here, I’m jeest thinking,’ said Hamish. ‘Is it no’ jeest the perfect parable fae the bible.’
‘What are you on aboot, Hamish?’ said Scott with a grin. ‘Did you share a glass or two wae auld Arbuthnot earlier?’
They looked on as Annie served the family with big bowls of steaming lentil soup.
‘Och, have you no religion at a’, Sergeant Scott. “But a Samaritan, as he travelled took pity on him.” Luke, chapter ten, if I’m no’ much mistaken. Sure, man o’ the cloth passed by on the other side o’ the road that day, tae. Karim – he’s a modern good Samaritan!’
‘I hope people remember that,’ said Daley.
‘Don’t you worry. Folk in Kinloch are no’ all like Tam Arbuthnot, I’m pleased tae say – no, no’ by a long chalk. You’ll see, Mr Daley.’
Daley smiled. He had no doubt that Hamish was right, but he couldn’t help thinking of the many for whom refuge in a place like Kinloch must seem like an impossible dream. Still, the Karims were, at last, safe.
Notes
Dalintober Moon
This short story was written to help the Dalintober Beach Regeneration Fund. My thanks and best wishes to James MacLean and the rest of the committee. Thanks, too, are due to Fraser McNair for the wonderful photograph on the eBook. To see more of Fraser’s work go to www.jfmcnair.com. Special thanks to my old mate Eddie Mitchell, now in Adelaide, who prompted an idea to form in my muddled brain.
Empty Nets and Promises
I would like to thank my old friend Andrew Robertson, who comes from a family of Campbeltown fishermen. He kindly helped me to understand the background and feel of fishing in the sixties, based on the experiences and stories of his late father, himself the skipper of the Campbeltown fleet. He followed in those formidable footsteps, becoming a fisherman himself. Few of us can imagine the dangers and discomforts faced by these men in the course of their daily toil. Tragically, many lost, and still lose, their lives. I dedicate this story to those fishermen.
One of my earliest memories as a small child in the late sixties was catching a glimpse of Concorde, the supersonic passenger jet then being flight-tested in the skies above Kintyre. If you missed the sight of the aircraft, you couldn’t fail to hear the loud sonic boom as it broke the sound barrier. In a way, this plane heralded the dawn of a new age in the decade that defined much of the modern world in which we now live. Though Concorde itself no longer flashes through our skies, new and faster ways to travel will continue to shrink our world.
The airbase at Machrihanish, then in the hands of the RAF, was the site chosen for this testing because of the length of its runway. Indeed, it is one of the reasons that Kintyre may yet find itself the location of the UK’s spaceport – another massive leap forward.
Again, back in the late sixties, you would have found a busy fishing port at Campbeltown, with small wooden boats crowded in the space between the town’s twin piers. Sadly, modern fishing methods, combined with almost inexplicable political interference, have led to a catastrophic decline in the numbers of fish in our seas, and the fishing fleet in Campbeltown, as elsewhere, now numbers only a handful of boats.
Andrew Robertson, the ex-Campbeltown fisherman mentioned above, looked back on this loss with much regret. He lamented the disappearance of the fair contest between fish and man, as larger vessels worked together trawling the sea, giving their quarry no chance of escape, or time to replenish.
Fishing became a massive industry in the eighties. Many of my former classmates made my eyes water with tales of the money they were making back then. It didn’t last, and the connection between the fishermen of Kintyre and the sea, which lasted for hundreds, perhaps thousands of years, has almost been lost. Hopefully, as modern and better informed attitudes prevail, sustainable fishing will again become the norm.
I have tried to capture a fictional taste of a life at the fishing, which – almost as a by-product – spawned such wonderful yarns, songs and poetry. For a more factual account of these days, and long before, please seek out the works of Freddie Gillies and Angus Martin, both great chroniclers of times past in Kintyre.
Two One Three/Single End
As readers will note, the Glasgow (and indeed the police force) Daley finds himself in at the beginning of his career is very different to the newly minted Police Scotland in which he and Scott ply their trade in the novels. His fictional career happens to span times of great change in both policing and society.
The Glasgow of the mid-1980s to 1990s was a city in flux. The days of industrial pre-eminence were reaching their death throes as the dear green place sought a future. Looking at Glasgow now, with its state-of-the-art architecture, welcoming shops, galleries, museums, restaurants, pubs and clubs, it is hard to imagine the dark days of the recent past.
Likewise, the police service has changed: the old six-feet-tall ‘heilan’’ bobbies were replaced by graduates, with the support of the very latest policing techniques and paraphernalia.
Times change, but I think it’s fair to say that a cop from 1980 would have more in common with their counterpart of 1880 than the officer taking his or her place in 2018. Ultimately, progress, regardless of how one views it, is inevitable.
One Last Dram Before Midnight/The Silent Man
There is indeed a necklace, crafted using Whitby jet, on display at Campbeltown’s wonderful little museum. It’s been around for four thousand years and was clearly made for a person of high status who lived within a society it is almost impossible for us to imagine.
That the material used to make this beautiful piece is from what is now North Yorkshire suggests that the ancient people of Kintyre were neither insular nor parochial and likely traded with folk from across these islands and, who knows, far beyond.
These days Campbeltown is still considered a remote destination, most often reached by the long and winding road from Glasgow. As I’ve mentioned before, it is strategically situated for good access by sea from all directions and the ferry from the Ayshire coast is a great development.
One thing is for sure: however you choose to travel there, like almost nowhere else remaining in Scotland, you can still feel that echo of the past. Do make time to sample it before the future finds this wonderful, unique corner of the world.
Acknowledgements
For a long time, it seemed as though the art of short-story writing had been forgotten – viewed as out of fashion and favoured by neither publishers nor readers. However, much in the industry has changed over the last ten years, or so. More people are reading, and there are most certainly many more writers.
We live in a demanding, time-hungry world. For those keen to consume a full story in a short space of time – before bed, or on the train, for example – this form provides the ideal solution. Indeed, writers are liberated to try something new, perhaps a new angle on a character or setting, even a new source of inspiration entirely.
Though the art of short-story writing isn’t for every wordsmith, I must admit to really enjoying it. I’m delighted that my publisher Polygon has seen fit to present my collection to date in this anthology. The reader will find out more about the young Daley and Scott; more of Kinloch, past and present; and for those yet to discover the DCI Daley novels, a mouthwatering taster.
As always, a huge thanks to the people of Kintyre, who have embraced my outpourings with such kindness and enthusiasm. Also to Hugh Andrew and my indefatigable editor Alison Rae, who saw enough to give me a new career (another one). Thanks too to my formidably inspirational agent Anne Williams of KHLA in London. Dealing with me isn’t always easy! Finally, to my family – Fiona, Rachel and Sian – who will absolutely agre
e with my previous assertion.
And to you, dear reader, go on, take the trip to Campbeltown. Many have already done so and, to a man and woman, those who have contacted me have loved it. I’m sure you will too!
D.A.M.
Gartocharn
September 2017
The DCI Daley thriller series
Whisky from Small Glasses
DCI Jim Daley is sent from the city to investigate a murder after the body of a woman is washed up on an idyllic beach on the west coast of Scotland. Far away from urban resources, he finds himself a stranger in a close-knit community.
Love, betrayal, fear and death stalk the small town as Daley investigates a case that becomes more deadly than he could possibly imagine, in this compelling novel infused with intrigue and dark humour.
The Last Witness
James Machie was a man with a genius for violence, his criminal empire spreading beyond Glasgow into the UK and mainland Europe. Fortunately, James Machie is dead, assassinated in the back of a prison ambulance following his trial and conviction. But now, five years later, he is apparently back from the grave, set on avenging himself on those who brought him down. Top of his list is his previous associate, Frank MacDougall, who, unbeknownst to DCI Jim Daley, is living under protection on his lochside patch, the small Scottish town of Kinloch. Daley knows that, having been the key to Machie’s conviction, his old friend and colleague DS Scott is almost as big a target. And nothing , not even death, has ever stood in James Machie’s way . . .
Dark Suits and Sad Songs
When a senior Edinburgh civil servant spectacularly takes his own life in Kinloch harbour, DCI Jim Daley comes face to face with the murky world of politics. To add to his woes, two local drug dealers lie dead, ritually assassinated. It’s clear that dark forces are at work in the town. With his boss under investigation, his marriage hanging by a thread, and his sidekick DS Scott wrestling with his own demons, Daley’s world is in meltdown. When strange lights appear in the sky over Kinloch, it becomes clear that the townsfolk are not the only people at risk. The fate of nations is at stake. Jim Daley must face his worst fears as tragedy strikes. This is not just about a successful investigation, it’s about survival.
The Rat Stone Serenade
It’s December, and the Shannon family are heading to their clifftop mansion near Kinloch for their AGM. Shannon International is one of the world’s biggest private companies, with tendrils reaching around the globe in computing, banking and mineral resourcing , and it has brought untold wealth and privilege to the family. However, a century ago, Archibald Shannon stole the land upon which he built their home – and his descendants have been cursed ever since.
When heavy snow cuts off Kintyre, DCI Jim Daley and DS Brian Scott are assigned to protect their illustrious visitors. But ghosts of the past are coming to haunt the Shannons. As the curse decrees, death is coming – but for whom and from what?
Well of the Winds
As World War Two nears its end, a man is stabbed to death on the Kinloch shoreline, in the shadow of the great warships in the harbour. Many years later, the postman on Gairsay, a tiny island off the coast of Kintyre, discovers that the Bremner family are missing from their farm. There’s a pot on the stove and food on the table, but of the Bremners there is no sign.
When DCI Daley comes into possession of a journal written by his wartime predecessor in Kinloch, Inspector William Urquhart, he soon realises that the Isle of Gairsay has many secrets. Assisted by his indomitable deputy, DS Brian Scott, and new boss, Chief Superintendent Carrie Symington, Daley must solve a wartime murder to uncover the shocking events of the present.
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