Murder on the Moor - C. S. Challinor [7]
“Not to worry,” Hamish Allerdice replied. “We’re spoilt enough with views over our own loch, don’t you think, Alistair? You’ve visited Loch Lochy.”
“Aye, the view from the hotel dining room is spectacular.”
“One of our guests saw the sea monster a couple of weeks ago,” Hamish boasted. “Our waiter saw it as well. Thought at first it was an upturned boat, but then he spotted three humps and a tail. We sent a photo to the Inverness News-Press, and Rob Roy came to check it out.”
“It was probably a couple of seals frolicking in the water,” Rex opined.
“It had the same sleek head, but it was twelve foot long.”
Rex took a closer look at Hamish Allerdice. Nondescript like his wife and prey to the signs of male middle age: thinning hair, thickening midsection, pouchy eyes, and jowly cheeks. Rex commended himself that his own sandstone red hair had stayed intact. Moreover, his bulky frame carried his surplus weight better than Hamish’s shorter stature. Vanity, thy name is Man! he chided himself.
“There was another sighting this morning,” Helen said, joining the men, a glass of sherry in her hand. “They were talking about it at the village shop.”
“Aye, that’s right.” Hamish’s eyes lingered on her bust, accentuated by the black halter-neck dress she had changed into upstairs. “Rob Roy wants to interview the old fisherman. Cameron is a local attraction in his own right.”
The journalist entered the room with Cuthbert Farquharson and the adolescent boy, Donnie. Flora jumped to her brother’s side and started fussing over him, pulling the scarf from his neck and using it to mop his face and dark hair. Divested of his deerstalker, Farquharson’s fading blond curls hung limply over his forehead.
“Come and dry yourselves by the fire,” Rex invited.
He crossed to the stereo system and put on a CD of Scottish ballads, which seemed appropriate for the mournful weather. The logs in the fireplace caught flame from the pine kindling and began to blaze cheerfully. Tongues, loosened by alcohol, spoke louder, everyone talking at once about the Loch Lochy phenomenon, which Shona Allerdice said would undoubtedly drum up business for the hotel.
“We’re having a slow season,” her husband explained.
“The creature is naught but a gimmick,” Rex remarked in response to the Allerdices’ comments, his Scots coming out stronger as always in times of emotion. “It’s bad enough hearing all the nonsense aboot Nessie, but now Lizzie? Is every loch going to produce its own sea monster?”
Helen laughed. “Oh, Rex, you should be proud of your monsters.”
“I’m proud of Bonnie Prince Charlie, John Knox, Robbie Burns, and all the rest o’ them, and of our turbulent and bloody heritage—not of two-headed freaks of nature lurking in every puddle.”
“It’s not two-headed,” Shona Allerdice corrected him. “It’s a wonderful creature that resembles a serpent, only with flippers and three humps on its back. There’s loads of data proving the existence of a Loch Ness monster. It even has a scientific Latin name, but I forget what it is.”
“Nessiteras rhombopteryx,” Rex supplied.
“You see, you’re more informed about it than you like to admit,” Helen cried out with glee. She turned to Shona. “I’d love to catch a glimpse of it to show the boys and girls at my school.” She glanced at her slim gold watch. “Oops, I should go and check on the quiche.”
“Rob Roy is writing an article on our Lizzie,” Shona told Rex proudly. He’s staying at our hotel while he finishes his research. He may even end up writing a book about it. That would definitely put the Loch Lochy Hotel on the map.”
Rex mentally rolled his eyes. Try serving better food and refurbishing the place with less hokey décor, he thought. He had stayed at the Loch Lochy Hotel while work was going on at the lodge, since it was conveniently close. It was not somewhere he would stay by choice.
Rob Roy Beardsley nodded in agreement with Shona. “This may be only the tip of the iceberg. There have been sightings of a third monster in this verra loch.”
“My loch?” Rex said, aghast at the thought.
“Aye, Loch