“Have you arrested him?”
“Not yet. He’s just helping us with our inquiries.”
“I gather he’s got a fine war record.”
“Not him,” sneered Blair. “That’s something else we found out about him. He looks old enough, God knows, but he’s only fifty-four. He never was in the war, he never saw any action. He was a major in the Educational Corps in some unit down in Lincolnshire.”
“I am sure Lady Jane knew that,” said Hamish slowly.
“We’re managing fine without your help, although instead of wasting your time fishing, you might see to your duties. That prick, Halburton-Smythe, was howling down the phone last night about some poacher.”
“I will see to it,” said Hamish, but Blair was already striding away.
Hamish stood looking after the detective, lost in thought. What if there had been a Lady Jane present at one of the other fishing classes? Would the same lies and petty snobberies have risen to the surface as well?
Charlie tugged his sleeve. “I rather like Major Frame,” he said. “He’s a bit of an ass, but he’s jolly kind.”
“Let’s leave a note for your mother,” said Hamish, “and then we will have our breakfast.”
But before he cooked breakfast, he phoned Angus MacGregor, a layabout who lived on the other side of the village.
“Is that yourself?” said Hamish. “Aye, well, Angus, your sins have found you out because I am coming to arrest you after I have had my breakfast.”
Charlie listened with interest as the phone squawked.
“Nonsense,” said Hamish at last. “Havers. You bought that new rifle and it is well known that you could not hit the barn door. I will be over soon with the handcuffs.”
Hamish put the phone down and grinned at Charlie.
“If he knows you are going to arrest him he might run away,” said the boy, round-eyed.
“That’s just what he will do,” said Hamish, leading the way to the kitchen. “We’d best hide out in here, for they’ll be along with the major any moment. Yes, you see Angus has the wife and three children and it would not be right to take their useless father away from them to prison, so he will probably go to Aberdeen for a bit and he will return when he thinks I have forgotten about it. But he will not be trying to bag one of the colonel’s stags again.”
After a sustaining breakfast of mackerel dipped in oatmeal and fried in butter, Hamish accompanied Charlie home and was shortly closeted with Mrs Baxter for what seemed to the anxiously awaiting Charlie a very long time indeed.
When he emerged, he merely ruffled Charlie’s curls and took himself off.
He wandered along to the hotel to learn what the fishing school intended to do for the day. He found them all, with the exception of young Charlie and the major, seated in the lounge, getting a lecture on the ways of trout and salmon from John.
The Roths, Daphne, Jeremy and Alice were in high spirits. Even John Cartwright was cracking jokes. All had heard of the major’s ‘arrest’, and all were determined to believe him guilty.
“It seems as if Mr Blair won’t be needing to grill us anymore,” said John, “so we can go back to Loch Alsh and get some good fishing.”
As they all left the hotel, Hamish noticed that Jeremy had an arm around Alice’s shoulders.
Alice had spent the whole night in Jeremy’s bed. She felt light-headed with debility, happiness and relief. It was awful to have to go to the Cartwrights’ estate car with Charlie who had just joined the party and leave Jeremy with Daphne, but he had promised to spend the day with her, Alice, and now she was sure he was on the point of proposing.
The nightmare was over. The murderer had been arrested. Alice, like the rest, had not really believed that ‘helping the police with their inquiries’ stuff. She began to wonder if she would have to give evidence at the trial. That would be exciting since she no longer had anything to fear from the newspapers.
The countryside now looked friendly. Heather blazed purple down the flanks of the mountain sides, and a peregrine falcon soared high in the wind currents in the sky above.
And then a little cloud began to appear on the sunny horizon of Alice’s mind. The clean, clear air was invigorating. Set against it, the dark, blanket-tussled writhings of the previous night seemed grimy. Then, again, he had not waited for her but had rushed off for breakfast, leaving her to make her own way down. There had been no long days of exchanged glances and holding hands. Alice shrugged and tried to feel worldly-wise. Wham bang, thank you, ma’am, was reality. All men were the same.
But her heart lifted when she climbed out of the car and Jeremy grinned and winked at her.
Her heart soared again when Daphne failed to lure Jeremy to join her in fishing at the mouth of the river. “I’ll stay here with Alice,” he said. “She seems to be lucky.”
There it was – tantamount to an open declaration of love.
Jeremy and Alice fished amiably, if unsuccessfully, up until lunchtime. Alice had lost her fishing fever. All she wanted was Jeremy’s company. But when they broke for lunch, it transpired that Jeremy was still gripped by the desire to catch a fish.
“Where’s Daphne?” he said crossly. “I haven’t even had a nibble. Maybe I should have gone with her.”
“She’s at the head of the loch by the river,” said Heather.
“If she’s still fishing after this time, she must have got something,” said Jeremy. “I think I’ll go and look.”
Heather glanced at Alice’s dismal face. “Finish your sandwiches,” she said placidly, “and we’ll all go and look. Oh, drat, here’s the village bobby. Imagine travelling all this way just to scrounge a sandwich…”
Hamish sauntered up, red hair and shiny uniform gleaming in the sun.
“How is Major Frame?” asked Alice. “Have they taken him off to Strathbane?”
“No, I thought he would be here by now,” said Hamish.
“Here?” shrieked everyone.
“Aye,” said Hamish. “They had to let him go. That business where he was said to strangle the club secretary was a bit of a storm in a teacup. The good major was drunk and the secretary objected to the fact that the major hadn’t paid his membership fee and seemed to have no intention of doing so. One word led to another and the major attacked the secretary. Several members of the dub pulled them apart. The police were called, but no charges pressed. You can’t send a man to prison for a murder just because he got drunk and bad-tempered a wee while ago.”
“But if he isn’t the murderer,” said Alice, “who is?”
They all looked at each other in dismay.
Then a faint scream reached their ears, borne on the light breeze.
“Daphne!” said John Cartwright, lurching to his feet. They all scrambled for the loch and waded in. Hamish took off his boots, socks and trousers and, cutting a ridiculous figure in his tunic, cap and underpants, waded into the water after them.
As they ploughed through the shallow loch towards the river, they saw Daphne. Her rod was bent, her line was taut, and she called over her shoulder, “Keep clear! I want to get this one myself.” They all moved forward, however, watching as she battled with the leaping, plunging fish.
“She’ll lose it,” said Heather. “John, do something.”
“Not me,” said John. “She wouldn’t thank me for any help. Just look at her face!”
Daphne seemed to have aged. Her mouth was clamped tight with deep grooves of strain down either side.
Half an hour passed. Even Hamish, ridiculous in his half dress, stayed where he was. Daphne had played her salmon – for a salmon it was – into the shallow water.
With an exclamation of rage, she suddenly threw her rod down and leapt on the salmon, falling on it in a sort of rugby tackle. Then she rose from the frothing, swirling water, clutching the salmon to her bosom.
She
They all scrambled to shore. “Let me get the hook out and kill it for you,” called John.
“Don’t you dare,” said Daphne. “That’s going to be my pleasure.”
