Aces and Knaves

there?" Arrow asked.
    "I'll do better than that. I'll take you there tomorrow."
    "Don't you have to work?"
    "It's Saturday, my day off."
    The band started to play again. Arrow stood up and grabbed my hand. "Come on, Karl. Get up. I want to see you dance."
    "I've never done that before," I protested.
    "I'll show you how; it's easy."
    By this time I had drunk most of my pint and it didn't matter so much if I made a fool of myself. I resisted only slightly as Arrow dragged me to the dance floor.

    Chapter 22 THE GAME
    Jock insisted on driving us in his car, even though it was smaller than our Nissan. I couldn't blame him if he didn't want to ride with someone who usually drove on the wrong side of the road. Arrow had to squeeze into the back seat and we were grateful that it was only seventeen miles to John O'Groats.
    It rained intermittently and the gusts of wind were cold. "How much does it rain here?" I asked Jock as he navigated the narrow road between pastures full of sheep and cows.
    "There's an old Scottish saying: If it isn't raining now it will rain soon."
    That was comforting for us desert dwellers of Southern California. I wondered how Larry, the walker, was faring.
    "Look at those funny red cows," Arrow said. "They look so cute with their long hair. It's even over their eyes."
    "Highland cattle," Jock said. "Not terribly useful except for postcards for the tourists. Other breeds are more profitable."
    We came down a slight grade into John O'Groats, which consisted of a number of houses and the John O'Groats Hotel, but not much more. Beyond the rocky cliffs we could see the waters of the North Sea, looking relatively calm compared to what they must be like when the storms come that the area is famous for.
    "This is where Larry started his walk," Arrow said.
    "Walk?" asked Jock.
    She explained about Larry's quest.
    "He's a bit daft, wouldn't you say?"
    I had heard that the UK was a nation of walkers, but apparently there were exceptions.
    Jock turned off into a side street and parked in front of a small but relatively new house. The tiny yard looked well cared for and the white front door was freshly painted.
    Michael McTavish was expecting us; Jock had telephoned him earlier. He answered the door promptly to Jock's knock. He ushered us into the house and shook hands with Jock and then with Arrow and me. Then he led us to some worn but still comfortable chairs in front of a fireplace with a real fire in it, saying, "There's a chill in the air. Perhaps this will help to warm your bones."
    I suspected there was always a chill in the air here.
    "The missus is running some errands," he said, almost apologetically, "but she baked these." He pointed to a plate of cookies on an end table. There was also a pot of tea.
    "Biscuits," Arrow said, taking a cookie when Michael offered them to her. "See, I'm learning." She took a bite. "Delicious."
    As he poured each of us a cup of tea I noted that Michael McTavish didn't seem to smile much. Smaller than average height, he was also quite thin. His lined face and graying hair assured me that he was in the same generation as Ned and James.
    Michael and Jock doctored their tea with milk and sugar. Arrow also took some sugar. I tasted mine and decided that adding sugar was the correct thing to do to diffuse the bitterness.
    We sipped in silence for a minute, as I wondered how to start the conversation. Then Jock said, "Well, Michael, these two come from Los Angeles and they know some old mates of yours."
    "Who do you know, then?" Michael asked.
    I mentioned Ned, James and Elma and watched his face.
    A look of recognition crossed it, but he didn't smile. He said, "I knew them all." He hesitated and said, "It has been many long years since I have seen any of them."
    "About thirty years?" Arrow asked.
    Michael nodded. "Close to it. We were young and carefree then. We were always together. I hoped it would last forever, but one day James and Ned left and never returned. I believe Elma left some time later."
    "I have some bad news about Ned," I said. I told how he had been shot, without mentioning drugs.
    "In San Francisco, did you say?" Jock asked. "Was it the mafia, do you think?"
    "I don't think so. In fact, he was shot in Chinatown, but we don't think it was the Chinese mafia, either."
    "Any clues?" Jock asked, deadpan.
    "No clues."
    Arrow launched into a brief history of what all three had done since they left Wick. She told about the marriage of Ned and Elma and a summary of