Hamish Macbeth - Death Of A Dreamer Part 16

"He said it wouldn't be a good idea, what with his wife being up here. I said okay, cos I've got a boyfriend down in Inverness. Och, it didnae mean anydiing."

"And he didn't say anything else about that American or Effie?"

"Not that I can bring to mind."

"If you think of anything, Bessie, phone me right away."

"Are there really women like that?" asked Robin after Bessie had left.

"Like what?"

"I mean, just hop into bed with a man and forget it next day?"

"Don't ask me," said Hamish. "They havenae exacdy come my way. Who do you want to interview next?"

"I'd like something to eat first."

"Let's go to the police station," said Hamish. "I've got a couple of trout in the freezer."

"Okay. Then I'd like to interview the biggest gossip in the village."

"Hard to tell. When it comes to gossip, they're all on an equal footing. Maybe, though, the Currie sisters have the edge."

After lunch, Hamish led Robin to the Currie sisters' cottage. He was not looking forward to the interview, knowing that both sisters regarded him as a sort of Lothario.

Strangely enough, Nessie was alone. Hamish could hardly remember a time when he had found the twin sisters separated from each other.

"Jessie's gone up to the church to do the flowers," said Nessie, her already wrinkled face creasing in disapproval. "I don't hold with flowers in church. It smacks of popery. What do you want?"

"Detective Mackenzie here would like to ask you a few questions."

"Don't be long. I'm right tired of answering questions. I suppose you'll be wanting tea, Macbeth."

"No, thank you. We've just eaten."

"He's just saying that because you're here," said Nessie to Robin. "Hamish Macbeth is the biggest moocher for miles around. Sit down. I won't be long."

They both sat down in the neat little living room. The windows were open, allowing a gentle breeze scented with pine into the room. The only good thing about taking tea with the Curries, thought Hamish, was that it was served on the round table by the window and not on a coffee table. He was very tall and disliked bending double over low coffee tables to take tea.

Nessie came back with a tray laden with tea and scones. "Help yourself," she said. They gathered around the table.

"Eat something first," Nessie ordered Robin. "You've got to keep your strength up. A young la.s.sie like you should be getting married and having bairns."

The scones were feather light and generously filled with b.u.t.ter and strawberry jam. Robin dutifully ate one, took a sip of tea, and said, "I know you've been asked this question before, but I thought that perhaps you might have remembered something new. Did you see anyone on the waterfront the night Mr. Addenfest was killed?"

"We mind our own business, me and Jessie."

"I am sure you do. But you are such a sharp-eyed and intelligent woman that I was sure you might have noticed something that n.o.body else would think important."

Hamish was amused to notice the struggle between vanity and ignorance on Nessies face. Nessie was obviously delighted with the compliment and didn't want to let Robin down. I hope she doesn't make anything up, thought Hamish.

"Let me see, we go to bed at ten o'clock, and the bedroom's at the back. I got up about midnight to go to the, er, you know what. I took a wee keek out of the window there. I thought I heard a cry, but, och, it was probably a seagull."

"Nothing else?" asked Robin.

She shook her grey head.

"What about your sister? Did she see or hear anything?"

"No, Jessies a heavy sleeper."

They thanked her and left. They were just walking away when Nessie called, "Detective Mackenzie!"

Robin hurried back. Nessie seized her arm and said in a fierce whisper, "You be careful of Macbeth. He's a devil with the women."

"What was that all about?" asked Hamish.

"A warning," said Robin. "She said you were a devil with the women."

Hamish sighed. "If only diat were true. Let's go to the newspaper office and see if Matthew Campbell has found anything."

Elspeth was sitting at Matthews desk. "Where's Matthew?" asked Hamish.

"Probably up at the hotel bar drinking with the other journalists."

"I am Detective Mackenzie," said Robin.

"Sorry," said Hamish. "Robin, this is Elspeth Grant, who used to work up here. She now works for the Bugle in Glasgow. Found anything out, Elspeth?"

"Not much. All the interesting characters at the hotel have been interviewed so many times they don't want to talk to me. I'm going out to talk to people in the village. You know, diey 11 talk to me where they might not talk to you, Hamish."

"Why?"

"I was the astrologer here, remember? They'll tell me things in me hope of getting dieir fortunes told. Like we said, I'll drop by the station tonight."

At the end of a long day, Hamish and Robin reported to the mobile police unit. Jimmy was asleep at the desk, an empty whisky gla.s.s in front of him. "He should never be in charge," said Robin. "Mr. Daviot should be here."

"He's all right," said Hamish defiandy. "The poor man's barely been able to have a sleep since Hal's body was found."

At the sound of their voices, Jimmy awoke. "Oh, it's you pair," he said. "Get anydiing?"

"Round and round the houses and nothing much," I said Hamish. "Any more on the forensic report?"

"Just that he was struck dead further up the beach."

"Wait a bit," said Hamish. "That's odd."

"What's odd?"

"He was lying half in, half out of the water, faceup. Someone must have hit him and he fell backwards. So they'd drag the body down to the water by the ankles, hoping to dump him in the loch. Probably the murderer heard the boys coming and fled. Did forensic find any drag marks?"

Jimmy groaned. "They've got a rugby match tonight and cleared off fast. It's been high tide since then."

"You know, Jimmy, I watch these forensic programmes on TV. Whether fiction or fact, the labs always seem to have attractive, hardworking women. Why are we stuck with a lot of boozy men?"

"They're all staunch members of the Freemasons, and so is Daviot."

"Why couldn't that lot have joined some club or cult that bans liquor? So we can a.s.sume that whoever Hal met, it was someone he knew and someone he had no reason to fear. Maybe a woman."

"Maybe Jock. Maybe that wee notebook of Hal's contained something about Jock. That's it for the day. We'll start again tomorrow."

"Has Daviot been around?"

"He came briefly and fussed and hummed and hawed and then took himself off again."

Outside the unit, Robin said she would go back to Strathbane and get an early night.

Hamish fed and walked the dog and cat and was just wondering what to eat himself when Betty Barnard walked in.

"Unless it's police business," said Hamish sharply, "I shouldn't be talking to you."

"It is in a way. I know you've found out about Jock's previous charges of a.s.sault. I wanted to talk to you about him."

"So talk."

"Look, Hamish, why don't I drive us to that French restaurant in Strathbane for dinner and I can fill you in? Come on. It is police business we're discussing."

"I shouldn't be doing this," said Hamish, "but, och, why not? Who's to know?"

Betty talked on the road about how Dora had tricked Jock into marriage and how she had become paranoiac, believing Jock had an affair, all of which, Hamish thought uneasily, he knew already.

"I know it looks bad for Jock, but he's not really a violent man. The provocation in both cases was great."

Hamish suddenly remembered he had promised to talk to Elspeth. He took out his mobile and dialled the hotel, only to be told by Priscilla she had already left.

"Tell her I've been called out on police duty," said Hamish.

"What was that about?" asked Betty.

"I was supposed to see Elspeth this evening, and I forgot."

"Poor Hamish. Us ladies won't stop chasing you."

He glanced sideways at her as she competendy negotiated the one-track roads. Did she fancy him? She was so warm and easy-going and undemanding. He could be happy with her. But would she be happy being married to a highland policeman? Maybe, but only if he relocated to Glasgow.

She drove into Strathbane and headed for the docks. "It still looks the usual smelly run-down place it's always been," commented Hamish.

"It's all due for regeneration, and the owner of the restaurant decided to get in first while property is still at rock-bottom prices."

"Is he French?"

"He calls himself Pierre Lacha.s.se."

Hamish looked amused. "As I recall, that's a famous cemetery in Paris."

"I thought there was something familiar about it. Here we are."

The restaurant was called Highland France. Inside, it was tastefully done up with wood panelling, plants, and curtains on bra.s.s rails. The maitre d' took them to their table and handed them enormous menus.

"Stick to the set menu," said Betty. "I'm not being cheap, but it's every bit as good as anything on the a la carte."

They ordered snails to start and then salmon in a fennel sauce.

Hamish had never had snails before. He thought they were quite tasty, although a bit like garlic rubber.

He looked around the restaurant and then suddenly stiffened. "Well, I neffer did," he gasped.

"What?"

"Don't look now, but the boss, Peter Daviot, has just come in with Detective Mackenzie."

"What's odd about that?"

"I don't know what Mrs. Daviot would have to say about it. Oh, good, they've been put at a table where they can't see us."

What on earth was Daviot up to? wondered Hamish. And Robin? She was wearing a little black dress cut low enough to expose the tops of two excellent b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Her hair had just been done and rioted in curls around her well-made-up face.

"We're going to have a long meal," said Hamish. "I want to wait until they leave."

Betty grinned. "Suits me. Tell me more about the case."

But Hamish would not be drawn. Although he felt in his heart it was ridiculous, Betty was on the list of suspects. So he talked of old cases, spinning out the meal until he saw Daviot and Robin leave. He gloomily noticed that Daviot's face was lit up, and as he helped Robin on with her coat, he gazed down at her witli adoring eyes.

The ambitious litde minx, thought Hamish. I don't believe she cares for him one little bit.

He was tired and slept on the way home, only wakening when Betty drew up outside the police station. Betty leaned forward and planted a warm kiss on his cheek. "If or ly this wretched murder business were over, Hamish. Then we could really see more of each other."

Hamish went into the police station, his heart singing, until he saw a note on the kitchen table in Elspeth's handwriting. It simply said, "b.a.s.t.a.r.d."

"I don't want any more women in my life at the moment," said Hamish as the dog and cat followed him into the bedroom. "I've enough on my plate."

But little did he know, there was going to be one more.

Nine.