‘Thank you,’ Flynn said. ‘And, Poe, stop being childish.’ She stared at him until he nodded. ‘Now, the other question I want toask is why didn’t wedding party number four take advantage of all the protection you’re offering?’
‘Do you think the sneaky wee insurance bastards will claim that force mature jobby? Try to get out of paying me?’
‘Forcemajeure,’ Bradshaw said automatically. ‘It’s French for “greater force”.’
‘Why didn’t they use the protection, Mr Smythe?’ Flynn asked again.
Smythe shrugged. ‘They did for most of it but when it came to the photographs, the bride insisted they go outside. Who the hell wants a grimy tarpaulin as their wedding background? Not when you can have mountains and blue sky and green grass.’
‘And an ornamental water wheel,’ Poe said.
‘Exactly.’
‘Did the preceding wedding parties take their photographs outside?’ Flynn asked.
‘They did.’
‘Same place?’
‘Aye.’
‘Same photographer.’
‘Aye.’
‘Was there anything different about the fourth wedding?’
‘They all look the same after a while,’ Smythe said. ‘The only weddings you remember are the ones that end in mass brawls.’ He sipped his whisky. ‘And even then, it would have to be agoodmass brawl.’
While Flynn finished up with Smythe, Poe got to his feet and went to the door. He’d heard a car pull into the car park. Sounded like a diesel. He looked outside.
‘Police Scotland have arrived,’ he said.
Chapter 16
The detectives from Police Scotland didn’t care that they’d already spoken to Smythe. They seemed focused and professional. DS Ian Ferguson was rail-thin with a shock of caricaturist ginger hair; DS Fiona Stephenson was tall and rangy. They both wore jeans and jumpers. Their practical shoes were flecked with mud. These were outdoor cops. Poe immediately liked them.
‘He ask about his crime number?’ Stephenson asked. Her accent was soft. Edinburgh maybe.
‘Seven times,’ Bradshaw replied.
‘I’ve seen Ofsted inspectors with more compassion,’ Flynn said.
Stephenson smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. ‘You here to check up on us?’
‘We’ve just joined the investigation so we’re playing catch up,’ Poe explained. ‘I have stuff to do in Cumbria tonight, so it made sense to start up here.’
‘What do you need?’
‘I want to see the shooting platform.’
Stephenson pointed at a building in the distance. ‘He shot from a farm over there,’ she said. ‘Climbed on to the roof of the cowshed and waited.’
‘For wedding four?’ Poe asked.
‘That’s the working theory. A couple of my colleagues think he climbed up there at lunchtime, but Ian and I aren’t buying that for a second.’
‘Why not?’
