"Said it was too important for a local bobby to deal with."

"And how do you know this? Folks say you never see anyone or go anywhere."

"I go around to get my bit of shopping. Folks have a way of talking in front of me as if I'm deaf and invisible."

"That's your own fault. You never talk to anyone."

"I didn't retire to the Highlands of Scotland to talk to anybody."

"Why did you come here? Where in Ireland are you from?"

"Mind your own business, Officer."

"Well, if you can't help me," said Hamish, rising and walking to the door, "I'd better call over at Drim and take a look into this other business."

Sean's eyes twinkled up at him.

"I think you'll find Jock Kennedy, who runs the general store, has thought up a way of drumming up business."

"It would amaze me," said Hamish bitterly, "seeing how much they hate outsiders in Drim."

Hamish was always puzzled that two such contrasting villages as Lochdubh and Drim could be situated on his beat. Lochdubh always seemed light and friendly. Drim was all that on the surface, but underneath there were black passions among the villagers, easily stirred up.

He thought that perhaps it had a lot to do with the location. It lay at the end of a black sea loch surrounded by towering mountains. It was almost as if the geography had made the people turn inwards upon themselves, suspicious of strangers, and anyone from outside was a stranger.

He drove down the twisting road to the village and parked outside Jock Kennedy's general store.

The shop was closed up for the night so he knocked loudly at the side door which led to the Kennedys' flat over the store.

The burly figure of Jock Kennedy answered the door.

"What's all this about a monster?" asked Hamish.

Jock came out and closed the door behind him. "Walk a bit with me, Hamish. I don't want Ailsa getting any more daft ideas." Ailsa was his wife.