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I've got two fine fish here!

Ach, Hamish, man,

I thought for a minute there, I had mysel' a poacher.

- I fancied I saw lights. - Hush, Wee Jock!

Have you somebody away in the van? Lady friend maybe?

No, no, no, Mr Clunie, it's only Wee Jock.

- Aye, that'll be it.

Come on, Macbeth! - Lights?

Probably my imagination. They poachers have got me knocked fair stupid.

- Ah, they're a scourge, eh, Mr Clunie?

Angus, come here, ya big eejit!

By the by, did I mention Miss Alexandra's coming up for a few days?

Oh, come on, Macbeth!

- Come on! Go, go, go! - You simmer down.

- I'm fine, I'm fine.

- Er, Barney...

Agnes.

- Any luck? - It's hardly a matter of luck.

It's a matter of pure skill.

Here, I've got a couple of really nice ones outside.

- L30 secures the pair of 'em. - Done.

- Here, it's on the house.

- Hey, shorty, shut that racket up. - I'm not making a racket, the machine is.

- You're pressing the buttons. Cut it out. - Hey, no rowing.

Look, you big eejit, the loudest things in here right now

are that jumper and that shirt you're wearing

so why don't you piss off, find yourself a sympathetic tailor

and get yourself straightened out?

- Barney!

Can you not see he's only a bairn?

Let go or you'll feel it next.

Right, Barney, you run across and get Macbeth over here.

I'll keep Mr Robb occupied in the meantime.

Wait. There's no need to involve the police in this.

- Another time, McIver! - Aye.

And you just watch your mouth, boy! Just watch!

Get up. Come on.

I was just about to smack him there, TV John. You should've let me take him.

Put something cold on the boy's eye, Agnes.

I'll go and get you that wee message.

Two wee messages.

- So who started it? - Big Geordie Robb.

And finished it.

Young Soutar'll have some face on him, I can tell you.

You can look now.

Yon Robb's even worse than his father was and that's saying something.

- I'll talk to him in the morning. - You can't.

He was heading off to Inverness on a week's golfing holiday.

Well, I'll talk to him when he gets back, then.

How's the book?

It's all right, actually.

She's coming up.

Oh... really?

- Rory. - Hamish.

- My God! That much? - Aye.

- But, er... what about this EEC business? - The EEC?

Behave yourself, boy. Now, listen. We are entrepreneurs, Lachie Junior.

What care we for the EEC?

- Barney. - Hamish.

- Hi, Agnes. - Hello, Hamish.

Jock, sit.

- The usual, Hamish? - Aye.

Fancy some solids wi' your beer? I've a very nice salmon p�t� on the go.

Well, maybe just a wee nibble, Barney.

What's going on over there, I wonder?

The wheels of commerce never stop turning, Hamish.

- Good morning, Alice. Ciamar a tha thu? - I'm fine.

Well, as you can see, the firm of McCrae & Son are raring to go.

You know what's required. I'll let you get on wi' it.

I was wondering, is there any chance Big Geordie might give us a hand?

My son's no' back frae the golf, but Whisky Bob's there if you want him.

Whisky Bob'll do fine.

You're dealing with a can-do company in McCrae & Son, you know, Alice.

Drive on, Lachie Junior.

No Big Geordie Robb. Better and better. Onwards and upwards, son.

- Let me get Dr Brown in to see you. - No!

He'll know. As soon as he sees, he'll know.

- I heard a lorry. - It's the McCraes.

Dad. Hey.

There's a light on. We can't do it with a light on.

Right.

This... This requires a bit more nerve, all right?

- All you all right? Right. - Yeah.

Stockings.

Stockings.

No! Stockings! Women's stockings! Tights, for God's sake!

I'm not buying women's tights! What would people think?

What sick images would flash through their brains?

Gimme them here! You take that one.

- Is there holes in them? - Yeah.

- Gimme the jemmy. Give me the jemmy! - OK, OK.

Right off.

Shh! Shh!

- Rory, is everything all right?

Everything's just fine, dear one. I'll be with you in a jiff.

- Lachie! - What?

We've cracked it, boy!

- There you are. I wasn't too long, was I? - No.

You smell awful nice, Rory.

That'll be my Chanel. It's called Pour Homme.

And now, Esme...

some mood music.

- Shut up!

It's only bloody music!

Rory Campbell's got this place wired up like a bloody hypermarket! Take that.

Hamish Macbeth, calling Hamish Macbeth.

This is TV John McIver calling Hamish Macbeth. Over.

I know who it is, John. What do you want?

Go and see the man at the Lochdubh General Stores. Over.

See Rory about what?

So help me, this'll have you baffled.

A burglary's one thing, but this makes no sense at all.

This must've made some kind of noise when it was forced, Rory.

You sure you heard nothing?

I sleep like a bairn and I had an earful of fiddle music before I turned in.

That's a state-of-the-art sound system. You'll hear nothing above that.

- Touch anything? - Nothing. That's the funny thing.

Neither did whoever robbed me, except for half a hundredweight of salt.

- And that's it? Nothing else? - Nothing.

As you see, there's whisky and all sorts here. It's...

- Baffling. - Baffling.

What would anybody want with that amount of salt?

Baffling. Well, I suppose I should check for dabs.

No, no, no, I've got a business to run. I need access to my stock.

I only called you in to make it formal. For the insurance.

- There's the damage to the back door. - I'll just batter a couple of nails in there.

I'll mebbe hit the insurance for a couple of extras.

Couple of crates of whisky, say, and mebbe some fags.

- Enough to cover the damage. - Aye.

Well, I'll keep me ears open anyway. A crime's a crime and all that, Rory.

Well, you please yourself, Hamish. I'll see you out, shall I?

Darling, I'll just see if they've got a number two Jeremy Fisher or whatever.

It's Alexandra Maclean, Hamish.

Aye, I can see that.

- Hello, Hamish. - Alexandra.

Heard you were coming home.

- Only for a few days. - Of course.

Nice car.

Isn't it, though? Belongs to my publisher.

- He's come up with me. - Has he? That's nice.

Morning, sir. Lovely car.

Thank you. Would you like to toot the horn?

Where are my manners? I haven't introduced you two.

Peter Peterson, this is Hamish Macbeth.

Hamish... Macbeth?

That's right, sir.

- What a super name. - Look, we'd better get going.

- Have to pick up a few odds and ends. - Of course.

Have a nice day, now, sir.

Hamish Macbeth! I don't believe it! I thought you were winding me up!

Too good to be true! Hamish Macbeth!

Thanks again.

- Hamish, man. - Doc.

Yeah, belongs to a Mr Peterson.

Friend of Miss Maclean's. He also thinks I've got a funny name.

Oh, dear.

- It's only St Bruno, Hamish. - Aye.

I could do with lift to the Fish & Game Company. I've a house call to make.

- Who's sick? - Lucy Robb. Fell off a fork-lift last night.

I've been meaning to have a word with Big Geordie.

Morning, Whisky Bob.

- You say this happened last night? - That's right.

Look... I don't want a fuss, just some painkillers until the worst of it passes.

Passes.

I think you've a couple of cracked ribs.

I want you to have an X-ray just to be on the safe side

and a couple of days in the infirmary with proper medical attention.

Doctor, I don't think that's really necessary.

But I think it is, Lucy.

Is your husband about?

Can you tell me when your son does come back, Alice?

I will, but you know Big Geordie Robb, Hamish.

He's probably shacked up with some tart and we need him here.

I'm all but useless with my leg. Lucy can barely move.

And Whisky Bob, well, he's a good man when he's sober,

but that's a rarer sight than Halley's Comet.

Aye. Would you mind if I stepped across and had a word with the McCraes?

- Not at all. You get on wi' it. - Thanks.

Half a hundredweight of salt?

And nothing else was touched?

You must be baffled, Hamish boy, baffled.

He'll not be baffled for long if I know Hamish.

He'll have the pair of rascals banged up before you can say "peas".

The pair of them? What makes you think there was two, Lachie?

Is it no wonder I'm proud of that boy? That's nimble thinking, that.

To deduce that it must have taken more than one man to shift all that salt.

- That is quick thinking. - There could have been three, Lachlan.

- Mebbe even four. - I think you're just nit-picking there.

He just made an observation. You don't expect him to solve the whole case?

You're probably right. If you hear anything, let me know.

- No problem, Hamish. - Straight away, Hamish.

That's, er... That's right dandy footwear you're wearing there.

Do you like them?

Yes. Er... Big Geordie Robb got himself a new pair.

His wife Lucy tossed these over to yours truly. Yes, it's good-quality leather, that.

- How was your patient? - She was telling lies.

- How is it? - Salty.

Right, start dumping them in. Mind your fingers, though.

So...

how long is she home for, then, Alexandra?

- It's just a holiday, Doc. - Ah.

Yowzer!

Have you read her book?

It's not going to make her a millionaire or anything.

Too full of big ideas and big words for that, but it's good.

Always accepting, of course, you credit the short story as a valid literary form.

And there's the post-structuralist debate about the value of literature per se.

What is the function of the writer and of the text?

Are the two interrelated or, in fact, do they stand separately?

Divorced, as it were, or indeed to take it further...

Macbeth?

Macbeth?

- Hamish. - Wha... What is it?

God, John.

- What time is it? - It's just after six.

- Have you had anything to eat? - No.

Elbows.

- Well? - Lovely.

It's just a wee crab consomm� I boiled up at home.

- God, I'm thirsty. - Aye, so I see.

Young Doc Brown's been here, I take it.

Aye.

- Anybody call when I was sleeping? - No.

No calls.

I said, "Look, Julian, we can cooperate on this..." Thank you, dear.

- "...or we can be rivals." - Constable Macbeth, sir.

Thank you, Malkie. Hamish! Some hospitality, please.

No, I'm fine, thanks... er... There's been a burglary at the general store, Major.

- A half hundredweight of salt was taken. - Salt? Well, well, well.

- Who would've thought that, eh? - Yes, sir.

So I'm just warning everyone just in case the thieves try to pass on the goods.

I'd appreciate it if you'd warn your staff.

So, Constable, you're hot on the trail of a salt... seller!

- Peter. - Your friend is just favouring us

with some metropolitan wit, Alex.

- Wasn't that witty, Hamish? - Effervescent, Major.

- Did you get my ticket, Mr Peterson? - Oh, er... yes. I've had the repair done.

I told Peter the car was probably damaged by some envious adolescent.

- Envious and persistent, it would seem. - What do you mean?

Wullie's smashed the other light. Noticed it on the way in. Evening, Major.

Take it.

I can't believe it. How much have we made?

Plenty. And we'll make plenty more when we get over to Cnothan.

There's a whole untapped market over there, boy.

Right... take us over the Devil's Humph.

- We'll save half an hour then. - The Devil's Humph?!

You can barely get three sheep walking abreast on that road.

Look, I want time for my pint at the conclusion of business.

You know me, boy.

Talk about the wages of fear. This is murder.

Don't talk rubbish, man.

- Stop the car! - What is it?

- Just stop the damn car! - But... What is it?

- That's Big Geordie's car. - I know.

Where's Big Geordie?

Reverse back to Lochdubh, Lachie, and get Hamish.

Just do it, boy!

- Morning, sir. - Who are you?

- Macbeth, sir, local man. - You don't sound local.

My folks moved to Glasgow. I joined the forces and eventually moved back here.

Couldnae resist the call of the wild, eh? Detective Inspector Bruce.

- This is DS Sandra McDonald. - What do we know?

The car belonged to a Mr George Robb.

He left home on a golf trip a week ago, stopped off at the Lochdubh Hotel.

- Last time he was seen. - Nobody reported him missing?

No. Well, Big Geordie, Mr Robb, he was the waver type. Frequently disappeared.

- A married man? - Aye.

And when he disappeared, it was with women, maybe other people's women?

- Absolutely, sir. - So he'd enemies, then?

He wisnae a popular man, no.

It could be that he injured hisself here and wandered off.

I haven't the resources to mount a search.

No, you did the right thing calling us, Constable.

Signs of blood in the back, sir.

Sir, Mr Robb and his family own the Lochdubh Fish & Game Company.

This car was often used to carry carcasses or meat.

So it could be days before we establish if there's human blood in there.

So...

I don't know if I'm dealing with foul play or a missing person.

Assume he's missing. Usual appeals in the media with a description and photo.

Oh, aye, you'd better put in a request for mair men.

I've arranged for you to meet a few of the locals in the Lochdubh Hotel.

- Some of the ones that last seen him. - Very efficient, Constable.

Oh, thank you. I also noticed that the car clock is stopped at 2.20.

If it was working beforehand, we know the exact time of whatever happened.

Very efficient.

- Listen here, now.

The big boys from Inverness are coming.

Hamish says no taking the piss and no dumb country yokel acts.

What's that smell? It's like boiled fish or something.

I expect that's the staple diet around here, sir.

- So... what's your name? - Er, TV John McIver, sir.

TV? Is that for Thomas Victor or something?

No, TV's short for television, sir.

I was the first man in Lochdubh to have a set.

A wee 14-inch Pye. Naturally enough, the name stuck.

Aye, I remember when you managed to get your aerial up, John.

- Oh, aye, just seems like yesterday, boy.

- My, tempus fairly fugits, eh? - Aye.

- That's Whisky Bob. - Nae mystery about that name!

- Whisky, Whisky? - Whisky.

Whisky for Whisky.

Here... stick one of these in it.

Well, TV John, what can you tell me about Mr Robb?

Well, it's just as Barney said.

Big Geordie gave young Jimmy there a smack and then he left the hotel.

Then, when I went out to the car park to... get a wee message,

I saw Big Geordie doing something at his car.

- What? - He seemed to be looking for something.

He was angry at not finding it, then he drove off.

- That was it. - And you're sure about Robb's clothes?

A blue woollen diamond jumper and a lemon shirt.

Positive. I mean, who else but a golfer would dress like that?

Everybody's agreed that Robb left for Inverness at 9:30.

It couldnae take him five hours to drive to the crash site.

Half-hour at most, sir. Must've left here, then went somewhere else first.

Mebbe took a short cut over the Humph to make up for lost time.

Aye. But where?

She's, er... pretty young for a DS - Miss McDonald.

Young? That's as old as the hills, son. Just oozing with ambition.

Mark my words, that's no' long for Inverness, no, sir.

It'll be the bright lights of Perth and Dundee for Ms Sandra McDonald.

- So, er... what are you up to, then? - Investigating a burglary, sir.

Aye, well, on you go. We'll complete this search here.

You could check out the young lad's alibi. Er... Jimmy Soutar, is it?

Just in case Mr Robb turns up dead, eh?

Hamish Macbeth, I tried to call you earlier.

Look at this. It's the strangest thing. It was shoved through my letterbox.

Read it.

And have a look at the PS.

Dad! Dad!

- It's no' a bad afternoon, Hamish. - No' bad, my arse. You're nicked.

What are you talking about, boy?

"Here is the cash for the salt we took.

"Sorry we were inconvenient to you. We'd a wee cash-flow problem.

- "PS..." - PS?

"If you need a new back door, see Dan McDonald.

"He'll do you a big thick door for L52.50 plus VAT."

Now, Dan made one door at that price in the last three years and, guess what,

that's right, he made it for you two.

- Uh-huh. - Lachlan McCrae Junior,

- I am arresting you under Section 2... - Hamish!

Hamish, er... look, why... why don't we talk about this, huh?

Well, you can give me the full story and the judge might look favourably on that.

Certainly. Certainly, aye, we'll cough the lot, boy. Come on.

You, come here.

Lobsters.

We had to change their water so we had to have the salt.

- I take it these are stolen? - Yes...

Not exactly. We were asked to dump them by the Fish & Game Company.

Whisky Bob gave them the wrong feed. EEC regulations.

They looked all right to me so we set up shop, saw a little niche in the market.

- Who bought them? - Nearly everyone in Lochdubh, Cnothan.

- You might've poisoned the region! - We've eaten...

No, no, what about long-term effects? Thought about that?

In six months, we could have... women with whiskers, men with breasts!

- Breasts? - Breasts.

You never said we'd grow breasts! I'm still a young man!

Then you won't mind asking for tights.

So... er... what's our next move, Hamish?

Say nothing just now. We could have a mass panic on our hands here.

Maybe even a lynch mob.

I'll, er... I'll be sending these to Inverness for analysis.

Well, well, Mr Peterson, thought you'd never get here.

Outside! Or do you intend hiding behind that uniform?

What uniform?

I don't know what this is all about, but you're making a mistake.

A mistake? He's making the mistake. I was a boxing blue at university.

A boxing blue? Well, my, my.

- Tremble, tremble. - Out.

- Mr McIver, how are you, if I may ask? - Of course you may.

I'm perfectly fine, Major.

- And your good self? - Oh, you know.

Isn't that my guest? He's not dead?

No, no. He was bobbing when he should have been weaving.

- Is there somewhere I could park him? - You can put him there if you like.

What happened?

It was Macbeth.

It was Macbeth, wasn't it?

Hello.

I thought you might like to know how Peter is.

Had Dr Brown take a look at him and there's no lasting damage.

- He started it. - You any idea what you sound like?

Like a bloody nine-year-old in the school playground.

- You provoked him. You've been... - I provoked him? Wait a minute!

He came for me! He paraded about as if he owned you!

Don't talk about me as if I was some prize to be fought for!

Don't.

God, what did I ever see in you?

- You're a bloody... Neanderthal. - Aye, well mebbe that was it, eh?

- A bit of rough to tell your pals about... - I can't believe I heard that.

How could you say that?

Well, how no'?

What am I meant to think? One minute we're perfectly happy, the next you're off.

- I have to earn a living. I explained... - That's crap. I make a living.

I could... I could support you

till you... just till you make your mark.

And if I never make my mark?

Alex, this is a good place.

Good people.

What more could you want?

Don't tell me you want the city.

These places just grind you down, just chew you up and spit you out.

But if we were together. We could...

Alex, Alex, you're no' listening me. I cannae go back to that.

I'm happy here.

I could never leave.

What would I be?

Look, you're just angry at me for what I did to your pal.

Tell me you don't care for me and I swear to God I will never bother you ever again.

Can you tell me that?

Can you tell me that?

- What? - I'm sorry.

I am sorry. I'm sorry!

Did I miss something off the list?

No, no... um...

I was just wondering why there was no shoes. No golf shoes.

You think that's what he was killed for? His shoes?

Look, Bruce has got us combing the hills for a missing person.

It's a complete waste of time. There's a killer out there. I'd like to catch him.

You could make the job so much easier.

- Oh, really? - Sure. With your local knowledge.

We should work together on this, Hamish.

Oh, do you, Sandra?

Well, I must say, I'm, er... I'm flattered...

and I'm sure there's a lot you can teach me.

- Hamish?

Man, that's cheap scent. Who was she?

McDonald.

And what was wrong with your bed?

Didnae have the heart to disturb Wee Jock.

What's that?

I don't know. It was in the machine when I came in.

Now, why would a detective sergeant lie down with a police constable, I wonder?

Eh? Hamish?

I thought I'd need somewhere to dump the credit if my guess was proved right.

If I start solving murders, the powers that be might think I've outgrown Lochdubh.

- Bruce would have me back in Glasgow. - Murders? What are you talking about?

I want you to find McDonald, John. Make sure she sees that, OK?

- Alice. - Hello, Hamish.

I was wondering if I might have a look in Geordie's wardrobe.

Why do you suppose he never took them, Alice?

He's not likely to have forgotten his new shoes, is he?

It was Lucy packed for him. She always packed for him.

She must have forgot.

Lucy.

Aye, well, that explains it.

It was just nagging at me, you know.

Aye.

Ah, Jock, how can people no' be like wee dogs, eh?

Simple, uncomplicated.

What's wrong? What's going on here?

I'm detaining you under Section 2 of the Criminal Justice Act of Scotland of 1980.

I suspect you've committed an offence punishable by imprisonment - murder.

- We'll be speaking to Alice, as well, Bob. - No, no.

I'm the man you're looking for.

I killed Geordie Robb.

He came back that night and started on Lucy.

I couldnae stand by and watch that. I killed him.

Hamish, Alice has something to say.

I killed my son, not Bob.

Alice...

Forgot his golf shoes and came back for them. He was in a black mood, as usual.

He took it out on Lucy. Just as his father had done with me.

He said Lucy should've checked his bag before he left.

I thought he would surely kill her this time.

- Alice, Alice, come on.

- I told you!

No!

But when he fell, he hit the fork-lift.

I asked Bob to get rid of the car, but that's all he did.

Bob and Lucy are innocent. I'm the one.

I gave that boy life and I took it away.

He was such a big lump of a man.

How did you find out, Hamish?

The McCraes didnae dump the lobsters. They've sold them all over the district.

I thought they might've been poisoned. I took a couple for analysis and they fo...

They found bits of blue and lemon wool in the guts.

Robb wore it the night he disappeared. I saw the fax and made the connection.

Do you mean... people have been eating Big Geordie?

Seems like it.

It's a wonder they didnae choke.

Well done, McDonald. This'll be your ticket out of Inverness.

Thank you, sir.

Well... what can I say?

- What do you think'll happen to her? - Probation probably.

If it was up to me, I'd let her go right now.

Goodbye, Constable.

You never know. You might be back this way sometime.

- What's all this? - They're buying laxatives.

- That Rory Campbell's making a fortune. - Laxatives? For what?

Oh, to get rid of the lobsters and Big Geordie!

Serves 'em right.

- Hamish... - Aye?

Do you remember that crab consomm� I gave you?

Aye.

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