The Pillar of Horns

Chapter Two

Elspeth vomited, her lunch taking a swan dive off the small pier into the bay below. She had never been one for boats or the sea. As far as she was concerned water belonged in taps where it couldn't cause any trouble. She wiped her mouth on the sleeve of her coat and took a deep breath. The air had a faint stench, almost fishlike and it caused her to double over again retching.

"You going to be ok?" Gregor asked. He had smiled the entire way across, through what Elspeth considered forty-five minutes of watery hell. Gregor had leapt into the pier before the ramp had even been deployed, jauntily walking off into the town. He was clutching a newspaper in his hands. Mercifully it wasn't raining, a rarity, and he was reading the headline, back resting against a lamppost. "Not a boat person?"

"Not in the slightest. Fucking hate the fucking things." Happy the vomiting had stopped, Elspeth straightened herself, stretching her arms outwards as she did. "Never have. Not really a big fan of water if I'm honest. Mum got me my bronze badge when I was little, but that was it. The fucking sloshing around. Turns my stomach."

"I can see. The trip back is going to be fun for you then." Gregor chuckled to himself. "Personally, I love boats and the water."

"You went to one of those fucking stuck up English fucking schools, though right? You probably were in one of those rowing club kind of things I bet." Elspeth smiled at him, a poor choice considering her circumstances. It was a constant source of gentle ribbing. Whilst Gregor was Scottish like herself, he had spent most of his youth enrolled in an expensive, and notably English, boarding school.

"I was. You're right."

"What position were you? Cocksucker?"

"Coxswain," Gregor corrected, ignoring the insult. "But no, just a regular rower myself."

"Makes sense. Having a big lad like you is a bit like having a motor though. Cheating just a wee bit ain't it."

"Nah. You think I'm big? You should see some of the other lads. Anyway, take a look at this." He held the newspaper out, it flopped as he waved it. Elspeth grabbed it and stared at the front page.

"Not sure what I'm looking at, seems perfectly normal."

"Exactly. Little place like this? Local paper?"

Elspeth nodded her head in realisation. "Nothing about the murder."

"Exactly. This is a small place. There's what, one hundred fifty, maybe two hundred people here? Christ that paper is probably made by hand by some little old lady in her garage. There is no way that the news hasn't gotten around yet."

"Right," said Elspeth. "Somewhere like this, someone takes a particularly nasty shit, and everyone knows about it. You think they're covering it up?"

Gregor stood up straight, taking his considerable weight off the lamppost. "Maybe. Either that or they're ignoring it or pretending it didn't happen until it goes away. Not the best reaction regardless."

"Well, good thing we're here then," Elspeth slamming a fist into an open palm. "We'll get their heads pulled out of their arses."

There was the gentle tinkling of a bell as Elspeth pushed open the door. She stepped through, followed swiftly by Gregor. He slammed into the back of her as she came to an abrupt stop, confused at her surroundings. The building appeared to be a small shop, tins stack neatly on shelves, magazines nestled into racks.