“I can put you on my expenses. Send it back and order a steak.”
“It’s a waste.”
“I’m only having salad, so I can eat two.” Elspeth called over the waiter and ordered Hamish a T-bone steak and chips.
“If only Catriona had been a nice person like Ina Braid. So many people must have wanted to murder her,” mourned Hamish.
“Now, there’s a thing. What about Ina Braid? Surely the only reason she was murdered was because she knew something. She must have said something to her husband. Let’s go back and see him.”
“I’ve just remembered,” said Hamish. “Ina’s funeral is this afternoon. I’ll ask for a doggy bag and take the steak with me. We’ve got to be there.”
“It’s only on the TV that murderers turn up at funerals, Hamish.”
“I’d still like to be there.”
When they arrived, the church service was over and everyone was at the graveside. The whole village had turned out.
“Are you coming to the village hall afterwards?” asked Angela, appearing beside them. “The women decided that Fergus couldn’t cope with the entertaining and so they’re organising the funeral baked meats for him.”
“We’ll take a look in. I’d better contribute some whisky if Patel has any left. How’s Fergus coping?”
“He’s pretty shattered. It all seems to have finally hit him hard.”
When the graveside ceremony was over, Elspeth and Hamish bought a bottle of whisky and followed the black-clad figures to the hall. At other funerals, people might now turn up in colours, but Lochdubh kept to the tradition of funereal black.
At the hall, Tilly Framont came up to Hamish, her eyes wet with tears. “I’ve lost my best friend,” she said.
“Did Ina not tell you something about the murder of Catriona?” asked Hamish.
“No, all she said was ‘good riddance.’ And she wasn’t a secretive woman.”
Tilly moved away.
Nessie Currie then approached them. Jessie was over at the buffet, loading up a plate with sandwiches.
She glared at Elspeth. “Thon was a really stupid set of horoscopes,” she said.
Was it Hamish’s imagination, or was there not a sudden silence all around? People were still talking but he had an uneasy feeling that someone close by had been shocked by what Nessie had said.
“Sorry about that,” said Elspeth, “but Angus was off sick and I did the best I could.”
“You should be ashamed of yourself, meddling with people’s star signs. I’m a Scorpio.”
“You are that,” said Hamish and led Elspeth off to the buffet.
“How long is this guard of yours to go on?” asked Elspeth.
“I’ll try to look after you for as long as possible, but for my sake and your own, try to get off to Glasgow soon.”
A splash of colour appeared in the doorway of the hall. “Oh, look, it’s your girlfriend,” said Elspeth. “I’m off to circulate. I’ll have to report on this. I see my photographer’s got a glass in his hand. I’d better find out whether he got some decent pictures before he gets too drunk.”
Lesley, wearing a cherry-red coat, joined Hamish. “What are you doing here?” asked Hamish.
“I came to see you. I thought you might like to know the latest developments.”
“There are a couple of empty chairs over in the corner,” said Hamish. “Let’s go over there.”
“I went back over the mobile home myself,” said Lesley, “and I found one thread—a dark blue thread, which might have come off a tweed coat or jacket. It was a lucky find because whoever murdered Fiona vacuumed up afterwards and took away the vacuum bag. I thought you might want to look around for someone with a jacket or coat like that.”
“Thanks. That’s a good tip,” said Hamish, thinking Lesley looked pretty with her large eyes and red-gold hair.
“I couldn’t find you today,” said Lesley. “Where were you?”
“I’ve been babysitting my reporter friend. She wrote the horoscope programme in the local paper implying she knew the identity of the murderer.”
“That’s odd.”
“What is?”
“Getting you to babysit. That should be a job for a policewoman.”
“Elspeth has helped out in cases in the past. I think Jimmy hoped she would come up with something. Oh, here’s the lord and master.”
Blair pushed his way through the throng. “I’ve just learned you’ve been wasting your time squiring around your girlfriend. I gave Anderson a rocket. These journalists are hard-boiled and don’t need protection. Get up to Braikie and start asking folks all over again. Someone must ha’ seen something.”
“I’ll tell her,” said Hamish.
Blair saw the trays of whisky being carried around, and his eyes gleamed. “No, laddie, I’ll tell her. Get off with you.”
Lesley walked out with him. “Maybe you’ll be free for dinner tonight?” said Hamish. “I owe you one.”
“I would like that.”
“The Italian place at eight?”
“Fine.”
Hamish felt the rest of the day was a waste of time. No one in Braikie had seen anything. Even the ones who said they had, the ones who had made up colourful stories, had nothing now to say.
When he got to the restaurant that evening, Lesley was the only customer. From the village hall came the sound of the accordion and fiddle. The wake would go on all night as usual, he guessed.
Lesley was wearing a low-cut blue dress revealing a deep cleavage. Hamish felt the first stirrings of desire. Elspeth had been cool and business-like and had put out no vibes at all. Her very style of dress seemed to say
keep off.
Lesley found Hamish more attractive than ever. The fact that here was a man who didn’t seem to want to drag her off to bed had piqued her curiosity about him, and his friendship with Elspeth had roused her competitive instincts.
They talked over the murder cases and drank quite a lot of wine. Hamish, just before the coffee was served, reached across the table and took her hand.
“Lesley,” he began, when a familiar voice said, “Gosh I’m beat. Am I in time for coffee?”
Elspeth pulled up a chair and sat down. Hamish drew back his hand as if he had been scalded.
“Find out anything?” he asked.
“Nothing. But I’ve arranged I should call on Fergus tomorrow.”
“You shouldnae have done that without checking with me first.”
Elspeth looked from Hamish to Lesley. “Dear me, it seems as if I am not welcome here.”
“Who’s not welcome?” said a cool, amused voice.
Hamish stumbled to his feet, his face flaming. “Priscilla! When did you arrive?”
“Today. May I join you? Hullo, Elspeth. Who’s this?”
Hamish introduced Priscilla to Lesley, aware the whole time of the malicious amusement in Elspeth’s silver eyes.
Lesley’s heart sank. Who on earth was this classy vision, impeccably dressed, serene and beautiful? Her face was perfect, as was the smooth bell of her blonde hair. Lesley had drunk a lot so that she would have the excuse of asking Hamish for a bed for the night. It was still worth a try.
“I’m afraid I’m not in a fit condition to drive this evening,” she said.
“Don’t worry about it,” said Priscilla. “I’ll put you up at the hotel as my guest.”
All Lesley could do was to say dismally, “Very kind of you.”
Priscilla wanted to know all about the murders.
Lesley felt forgotten as Hamish described all the murders and Priscilla listened intently.
“Look,” she interrupted at last, “I really think I’m fit to drive home.”
“How rude of me to ignore you like this,” said Priscilla. “Hamish, I’ll catch up with you tomorrow.”
When they had gone Elspeth asked, “Feeling smug?”
“No. Why?”
“Our forensic expert is after you.”
Hamish looked uncomfortable. “I think maybe she’s just keen on her job. Look, I’ll come with you to see Fergus. Has anyone come forward to claim Catriona’s body for burial?”
“Not that I’ve heard. I believe Mrs. Wellington was trying to get the villagers to raise money for her funeral but the general opinion is that a stake through the heart is all that’s needed. But I suppose the responsibility will fall on the husband.”
“I gather Fergus is still off work?”
“He’s thinking of going back soon.”
“I forgot to ask Jimmy whether Ina was insured.”
“We’ll ask tomorrow.”
Hamish sighed. “I’d better escort you to the hotel. Remember to lock your door and don’t answer without checking downstairs first.”
Fergus answered the door to them the following morning. He looked a wreck. His eyes were bloodshot and his shoulders stooped. “Come ben,” he said.
What had happened to Ina’s impeccable housekeeping? Empty beer cans lay on the floor along with the remains of TV dinners. The furniture was covered in a thin layer of dust.
“You’re not looking very well,” commented Hamish.
“Ina looked after me real well. I can’t cook. I hate shopping. Och, man, I wish she was back.” Fergus began to cry.
“Wheesht, now,” said Hamish. “You’ll just need to get used to the fact that she’s gone.”
“I’ll make a cup of tea,” said Elspeth, and she disappeared into the kitchen.
“Are you all right financially?” asked Hamish.
“Oh, aye.” Fergus gave a great gulping sob and wiped his nose on his sleeve. “Her life was insured.”
“How much?”
“Seventy-five thousand pounds. Thon creature Blair was trying to make me admit I murdered her for the money but he can’t prove otherwise.”
“Maybe you should take a holiday,” said Elspeth. “Get right away.”
“I can’t. Hamish, you’ve just got to find out who killed my Ina.”
“Fergus, I think she knew something about the killer,” said Hamish. “Didn’t she even give you a hint about who it might be?”
“No, but we didnae talk all that much come to think of it. I watched the telly of an evening and herself would knit or go out to one of those women’s meetings at the kirk.”
“I want you to keep thinking about it all the same,” said Hamish earnestly. “Anything at all she might have said.”
“Now what?” asked Elspeth when they were outside. The day was still and misty, and little pearls of moisture glinted in her frizzy hair.
“I think I’ll get back ower to Bonar Bridge. Maybe I might pick up something there.”
“Want me to come with you?”
“No, just be careful.”
Hamish wanted rid of her because he wanted to see Priscilla. He wondered if the old longing for her would ever go away.
He returned to the police station to collect his dog and cat, making sure first that no members of the press were lurking about, and then drove to the hotel.
The Tommel Castle Hotel had once been the home of the Halburton-Smythes. It was one of those mock Gothic castles that had sprung up in the Highlands in Victoria’s reign when landowners wanted to copy Balmoral. Colonel Halburton-Smythe had fallen on hard times, and it was Hamish who had suggested he turn his home into a hotel. The establishment had flourished, and the colonel was fond of bragging that it had all been his own idea.
He asked for Priscilla and was told she was over in the gift shop helping the new Polish girl with the stock. Hamish uneasily remembered talking to Elspeth in the lounge and looking up and seeing that Polish maid. Had she said anything about Elspeth writing the horoscopes? Then he reflected dismally that even if she hadn’t, the gossip grapevine of Lochdubh had probably found out already. Nessie Currie would have seen to that.
He wondered if any of the villagers were protecting someone. He desperately didn’t want it to be anyone from the village.
He opened the door of the gift shop and went in. Priscilla and a Polish girl were sorting out a box of Shetland wool shawls, all of them as fine as gossamer.
“I’m just about finished here,” said Priscilla. “Want to talk?”
“Yes,” said Hamish. “If you can spare the time.”
She smiled. “I’ve always got time for you.”
Hamish turned away to hide the sudden rush of gladness on his face.
Priscilla finished giving the girl instructions and then said, “Let’s go. I could do with a coffee.”
Elspeth arrived to pick up her laptop just as they were both disappearing into the hotel. Straight back to her like a homing pigeon, thought Elspeth. He only said he was going to Bonar to get rid of me.
They sat in the lounge. Hamish could remember when it had been the family drawing room. Priscilla ordered coffee and biscuits and asked, “How far have you got today?”
Hamish told her about the interview with Fergus. “It might be an idea to go over and see this paper mill,” said Priscilla. “It’s just outside Strathbane on this side, isn’t it?”
“Maybe I’ll go there,” said Hamish. “Although I feel I should really be keeping an eye on Elspeth.”
“Oh, the horoscopes. How did you find out?”
“From the barman. I don’t know where he got it from. But don’t worry about Elspeth. She’s a good reporter, and good reporters know how to take care of themselves. When we finish our coffee we’ll go over.”
“We?”
“Yes, we.”
Hamish was driving them along the road to Strathbane when he suddenly said, “There’s a Land Rover following us and I think I recognise it. I think it belongs to two deer poachers I arrested. They must be out on bail. We might be in for a bit of trouble.”
“Got your rifle?”
“In the back.”
Priscilla began to climb over into the back of the Land Rover. “What are you doing?” cried Hamish.
“I’d feel better if we were armed. Where is the ammo? Oh, got it. Are they coming closer?”
“Yes, they must have a souped-up engine. I’ll call for backup.”
He looked in the rearview mirror and saw a gun protruding from the passenger side of the pursuing vehicle. “Get down, Priscilla,” he shouted.
He felt a blast of cold air as Priscilla lowered one of the windows in the back. “Keep straight, Hamish. Don’t swerve. I’m going to shoot their tyres out.”
There was a blast of gunfire and Priscilla cried, “Got ’em. Stop, Hamish. They’ve gone off the road.”
“Stay where you are,” said Hamish, jumping out of the Land Rover, but Priscilla joined him, carrying the rifle.
Hamish phoned for backup. Then he said to Priscilla, “They’re armed. We’re not going down there on our own.”
“How unexciting,” said Priscilla calmly. “Can you see where they’ve gone? It’s hard to make out anything in this mist.”