“Maybe not. But he would like to hear what you’d been up to,” said Hamish.
“Then tell him and much good it may do you,” yelled Jeremy. He rushed off, nearly bumping into Alice, who was watching them anxiously. Alice ran after Jeremy and, undeterred by the fact that he had slammed his room door in her face, she opened it and went in. He was sitting hunched on the edge of the bed. “That blasted, nosy copper,” he said without looking up.
Alice sat down beside him and took his hand in hers. “What’s the matter, Jeremy?” she pleaded. “You’ve been awful to me all day.”
“Christ, I’ve got enough on my mind without worrying about you,” snapped Jeremy. “I was seen outside Lady Jane’s room on the night of the murder.”
“Oh, Jeremy. What happened?”
“My father phoned me and told me about her. I got into a silly mess when I was at Oxford and I wanted to make sure she kept her mouth shut. She said if I spent the night with her, she would think about it. Can you imagine? That awful old cow.”
Alice tried to withdraw her hand. What if Jeremy had murdered Lady Jane? He looked so odd, older, grimmer, and there was a muscle jumping in his left cheek.
Jeremy turned and looked at her. “It wouldn’t have mattered so much if she had written about you,” said Alice timidly. “I mean, it wasn’t so very bad.”
“You don’t know anything about it,” snapped Jeremy. In a flat voice, he told Alice of his Oxford scandals, although he omitted the fact he was still paying for the support of the barmaid’s child.
“I could never have gone in for politics,” he said. He felt shaken with nerves and anger. How stupid he’d been not to have told Hamish the whole thing. He needed a drink…or something.
He seized Alice suddenly and pulled her down on the bed. “Oh, Jeremy,” whispered Alice, forgetting that she had thought him a murderer a moment ago, “do you love me?”
“Yes, yes,” mumbled Jeremy against her hair. He started to unbutton her blouse, and Alice was so thrilled and excited that he had confessed his love that she almost enjoyed the next ten minutes.
? Death of a Gossip ?
Day Six
—John Donne
Hamish was up very early. He had been unable to sleep. It had been a miserable dinner party. Only Alice had seemed to enjoy herself. Daphne Gore appeared to be haunted by the spirit of Lady Jane in that she had seemed hell-bent on ruining the evening for everyone. Hamish could only be glad young Charlie was not present. The boy was suffering enough from hysterical women in the shape of his mother. Hamish had worn the dark grey suit that he kept for his occasional visits to church, and Daphne Gore had said he looked dressed for a funeral. She had then started to harangue the Roths over the American Cruise missiles, although it was evident to all that she was merely trying to be bitchy and didn’t care much one way or the other.
They had all drunk too much, because Amy had the nervous habit of constantly refilling their glasses without waiting for the waiter to come around.
And then as the climax to a truly horrible evening, Priscilla had arrived for dinner at the hotel with John Harrington. Harrington was everything Hamish detested in a man. He had a loud, carrying English voice, he fussed over the wine, he criticized the food. He had beautifully tailored clothes, a square, immaculately barbered chin, a tanned rugged face, and crinkly brown hair. And he made Priscilla laugh.
Hamish decided to take his boat out and try to catch some mackerel. He wandered down to the beach and untied the painter of his rowing boat. It was then that he saw the small figure of Charlie Baxter wistfully watching him.
“Want to go out with me?” called Hamish, and Charlie scampered down the beach.
“What are you doing out so early, laddie?” asked Hamish. “It isn’t even six o’clock yet.”
“I wanted to get out,” said Charlie. “My mother won’t mind. I often go out early for a walk. Things are pretty rough. I want to stay on with Auntie, and Mother wants me to go back.”
“Maybe I’ll have a wee word with her,” said Hamish. “Hop in and keep still.”
Charlie obeyed, sitting in the boat while Hamish pushed it out into the still waters of Lochdubh. The sun was just peeping over the horizon. The water was like glass, and the sky above was cloudless. “Looks as if it’s going to be a hot day,” said Hamish, climbing in and taking the oars. He rowed them steadily out into the loch.
“Where are we going?” asked Charlie.
“To catch mackerel. Dead easy.”
“What with?”
“A spinner. I’ll stop in a bit and show you how to do it.”
“Are we going right out to sea?”
“No, just a bit further.”
Charlie relapsed into silence, hanging over the side of the boat and staring at the sunlight dancing on the water.
Hamish at last shipped the oars and picked up a reel of stout twine with several hooks and silver spinners attached to it.
“Do we bait the hooks?” asked Charlie with interest.
“No, the spinners do the trick. Mackerel will go for nearly anything. That’s why they’re sometimes called the scavengers of the sea. Just unwind the line and let it trail out behind the boat,” said Hamish.
He began to row again, this time slowly and easily, shipping the oars from time to time.
Behind them, smoke began to rise from the chimneys of the village, and the twisted grotesque forms of the mountains stood out sharp against the clear sky.
“Stop the boat,” shrieked Charlie suddenly. “I think there’s something biting.”
“Pull in the line,” said Hamish, shipping the oars. Charlie wound the line in feverishly. “There’s fish on the end,” he said. “Fish!”
“Pull them in, there’s a good lad.”
Charlie jerked the line and hooks, spinners, fish and all crashed behind him in the boat.
“There’s four mackerel,” said Charlie as Hamish expertly dislodged the hooks and killed the fish. “Can we try again?”
“Och, no,” said Hamish. “We’ll just keep to what we can eat. Ready for breakfast?”
“You mean we’ll cook them?”
“Of course we will. It’s too early to wake your mother, so we’ll drop a note through the door to tell her where you are.”
Looking more childlike than Hamish had seen him before, Charlie smiled shyly and said, “You know, everything’s really so much better now that terrible woman has gone. I wish I could stay here.”
“But your auntie has just come up for the summer.”
“I overheard her say that she would stay on and put me to the school in Strathbane if my mother would leave me.”
“And you would like that?”
“Yes, Mr Macbeth. There’s that Mr Blair waiting for you on the beach,” said Charlie. “Does that mean we can’t cook our catch?”
“No, whatever happens, we’ll have time to eat.”
But Hamish privately thought it must be something very important to get Mr Blair out of his bed so early.
“Well, we’ve got our man,” said Mr Blair after Hamish had pulled up his boat on the beach. “While you were out enjoying yourself and playing with the weans, I got a call from Scotland Yard. Major Peter Frame was arrested two years ago for trying to strangle the secretary of the Buffers Club in Pall Mall. What d’you make of that?”
“I would say it was still not proof the man strangled Lady Jane.”
“Yes, well that’s why you’re a village bobby and I’m not. The man threatened her in front of witnesses.”
