The Clearance House: The Second Case for the Cocker Lawyer

They told me it would be simple. They lied. One envelope, one signature, one weekend on an island—right up until the ferry went and stopped going. I’m Donald Doan: solicitor, amateur navigator of ruined relationships, and the keeper of a cocker spaniel who has better instincts than most of the people in the Harbour Arms. Eilean Mòr is small, loud about its silence, and very good at keeping secrets. Three days, three deaths, a missing satchel full of cash, and a tunnel under the kirk that smells of old conspiracies: that’s what the place offered me.

I don’t do heroics. I do paperwork, and I ask awkward questions. Those questions found a ledger that names a harbour master, a man in an old man’s face who kept weapons under the floor, and a woman whose grudges were older than she was. If you want tidy endings, leave now. If you want the truth, though—if you want the way the sea erases and remembers—sit down. There’s room on my pad.