Edward Kane, Advocate in The Hanged Man. Chapter 8: Not a Dip in the Firth of Forth

Edward Kane, Advocate in The Hanged Man. Chapter 8: Not a Dip in the Firth of Forth (Illustration: Lesley-Anne Barnes Macfarlane)

‘Collins, my dear friend, I confess – I am flummoxed.’

Edward Kane sighed. Mr Collins, Advocate, raised his cup as if in salute: ‘Edward – the admission of ignorance is the first rung on the ladder of knowledge.’

Kane smiled and shook his head: ‘And a shaky ladder that is…’

Edward Kane, Advocate

The friends laughed.

Collins sipped from his cup: ‘I take it that you have incorporated into your studies the lessons learned from the Maggie Dickson case?’

Kane nodded: ‘Not just “Hanged”, but “Hanged until dead.”

‘And the proof of that?’

‘A certificate of death. Confirmed at the scene. By two doctors, no less. Once the body was cut down and bundled into the cart.’

The friends drank their coffee in silence for a time. Then Collins asked: ‘Why two?’

Kane raised his eyebrows to indicate that he did not understand the question.

Collins placed his cup and saucer on the table: ‘Why two doctors?’

Kane attempted humour: ‘Having met Dr Balloch, he probably wanted a second opinion as to whether he was dead of not.’

Collins pressed on: ‘Just interested. I had something similar recently.’ He laughed. ‘Nothing as dramatic as yours, of course. To do with a will. The husband suffered some type of fugue while swimming at the Portobello beach. A few statements from onlookers did the trick. But your chap appears to have had two doctors on hand…’

‘Collins - in my case, the occurrence was a public hanging. Not a dip in the Firth of Forth.-

Collins took off his spectacles and began to polish them with a small piece of silk: ‘Apologies, Edward. I did not make myself clear. All that I was trying to ask was this: if the evidence of some passers-by is sufficient to confirm death – as in my case – then why go to the trouble of having two doctors present at an event where the death of the participant is guaranteed – as here?’

Kane pursed his lips and shook his head: ‘I have no idea. Perhaps they were gong to attempt resuscitation?’

‘And did they?’’

‘Not as far as I know. But,’ he raised his finger, ‘later this afternoon I am consulting with the good doctor’s brother, so I shall ask him.’

Collins frowned: ‘Why are you consulting with your client’s brother?’

Kane smiled: ‘Who do you think is paying my fees?’

****

The Monkey Macpherson rubbed his furrowed brow.

‘Let me get this straight, Horse. You make out to the butcher that you’ve got a dug. He gives you scraps for the dug. You take the scaps back to the hoose, throw them in a pot and you make a stew for the Advocate. From the scraps.’ He raised his (sixth) jug of beer: ‘I thought I was desperate, my man, but that one takes the ship’s biscuit.’

Horse was now (not a little) the worse for wear: ‘And you can dip that biscuit in the stew, Monkey. But here’s a thing. I’ll go and pay that butcher now. But I thought that it would be good if I could, like, take some old mutt along with me – you know – to prove that I’ve actually got a dog, so that that butcher don’t give me any more of his cheek.’

The Monkey nodded sagely. Alcohol has its own coherence and Macpherson now articulated the problem perfectly: ‘So you need to get a dog to prove to the butcher that you’ve got a dog, even though you haven’t got a dog.’

Horse nodded: ‘You are a wery wise man, The Monkey. Wery wise.’

‘You should have said so in the first place. Ma old pal, Horse – we will find you that dog!. In fact…’ He banged his fist on the table and the empty jugs rattled against each other, ‘…in fact, I have just the dog for you. I have the perfect dog for you. Follow me!’

Macpherson sprang from his chair and ran (unsteadily, it must be recorded) out into the street. Horse jumped up and ran out after him.

Tomorrow: The Sudden Thought of a Russian Doll