There was a constable on duty outside Mrs. Todd’s cottage, relieving P.C. Graham. He told Hamish that Alison claimed the brakes of her car had been tampered with and that the mini had ended up in the sea after she had managed to get clear, but that a storm was blowing hard and there was no way they could get the car up until the wind died down.
Hamish knocked on the cottage door and Mrs. Todd let him in. “I told her she was safer here with me rather than staying up there with a houseful of murderers,” she said, “although I don’t know why she wants to see you. She’s told that Italian all she knows.”
Mrs. Todd led the way into her parlour. It was scrubbed and clean with comfortable old–fashioned furniture. There were several photographs of Mrs. Todd in army uniform. She must have been a holy terror, thought Hamish. Alison came down in dressing gown and slippers and Mrs. Todd went off into the kitchen to make tea.
Alison looked crushed and subdued. In a little girl voice, she told Hamish about her escape from death, and how Steel, Crispin, and James had all tried to get money out of her. All the while, Hamish was remembering what Glenys had said. He was sure all four men had been genuinely infatuated with Maggie at one time but equally sure that they had never forgiven her for getting their money and then ditching them.
“It couldn’t have been Peter, could it?” asked Alison tremulously. “I mean, he was down in the village getting cigarettes.”
“It’s my belief the car’s brakes could have been tampered with any time. When did you last use it – I mean before you drove along the cliff?”
“The day before.”
“And it was therefore just lying in the garage where anyone could get to it.”
“I wish Peter were here with me,” said Alison miserably.
“There’s nothing to stop you from going back to your own house.”
“It’s not that,” said Alison. “You see, I slept with him.”
“So?”
Alison hung her head. “A man doesn’t respect a girl for just jumping into bed with him when she hardly knows him.”
“That’s a pretty old–fashioned way of thinking. Last time I saw you, you looked tae me as if you’d had the experience and enjoyed every minute o’ it.”
“Don’t!” Alison put up a hand as if to ward him off. “You men just don’t understand.”
¦
Hamish sat up late that night, typing out his report for Donati. He really shouldn’t be worrying so much about this case, he chided himself. Donati was highly competent. He would get Scotland Yard to ferret into all the background.
He decided to give his report to Donati first thing in the morning and then go about his village duties and only work on the case when asked to do so, and having come to that decision, he felt much better. Blair’s bullying and stupidity in the past was what had spurred him on to all the effort.
He stacked the notes in a neat pile on the desk and reached over to switch off the lamp when there came a hammering at the door.
Hamish opened it. Detective Jimmy Anderson stood there, his fair hair plastered down by the rain, his face grim.
“Come along, Hamish,” he said. “There’s been another murder.”
“Alison?”
“Naw. That pop singer, Steel Ironside.”
? Death of a Hussy ?
8
Assassination is the extreme form of censorship.
—GEORGE BERNARD SHAW
STEEL IRONSIDE LAY ACROSS THE BED. THERE WAS BLOOD everywhere. The meat cleaver which had struck a deep gash right across his neck lay discarded on the floor.
Forensic men were dusting every inch of the room for fingerprints and combing the carpet for signs of clues.
Donati turned and left the room, signalling to Hamish and to the two detectives, MacNab and Anderson, to follow.
“Where are the remaining three guests?” asked Hamish. Donati paused on the stairs. “They’re in the sitting room, waiting to be questioned. Mrs. Todd is on her road here with Miss Kerr.”
“A meat cleaver,” said MacNab. “It must hae been the Todd woman.”
“As far as we know, she didn’t leave Lochdubh,” said Donati. “Her car engine’s cold. Jenkins discovered the body. He said he was uneasy. He said he heard thumping noises coming from Ironside’s room and went to investigate. He must have discovered the body minutes after the murder. The body was still warm when we got here.”
He went on down the stairs and the others followed him.
The three men were grouped together in the sitting room. All looked white and strained. Crispin Witherington’s eyes were blank with shock, James Frame was hugging himself and shivering, and Peter Jenkins was drinking steadily.
Donati started with Peter. “If you will just go over it again. You say you heard thumping noises. When was that?”
“I looked at my alarm clock,” said Peter, “and it was just after one in the morning. I’m upstairs and Steel is…was…on the ground floor. Then I thought I heard a door slam. I decided to go down and have a look. I looked in Crispin’s bedroom first. I didn’t put on the light but I could make out his shape under the bedclothes in the light from the passage. Then I opened Steel’s door.” He gulped. “I could just make out his figure on the bed but I felt there was something wrong. I don’t know why. I switched on the light and saw…and saw…”
“All right,” said Donati. “Take it easy. Now what made you go looking after you heard…bumps, was it? I mean, what made you think there was something up?”
“I can answer that one,” said Crispin waspishly. “He thought Alison had returned and gone to bed with one of us and bang goes his millionairess.”
“Is this true?” asked Donati.
“Of course it’s not true,” said Peter in a shrill voice. “I tell you, I can’t quite explain it but there was something odd about the sounds. Then I’m sure I heard a door slam, and I wondered if Alison had changed her mind and come home.”
Donati sighed. “It’s a good thing the victim wasn’t Miss Kerr or you all might be under suspicion. I gather from P.C. Graham that both of you, Mr. Frame and Mr. Witherington, had tried to get money out of her. If she dies, you inherit, and when we get that car of hers up, I’m sure we’ll find the brakes were tampered with, that is, if this storm ever dies down.”
There was a silence and all listened as the wind shrieked around the house.
The door opened and Alison came in escorted by Mrs. Todd. Alison moved like a sleepwalker. Peter rose to meet her and held out his arms but she shrank away from him.
“Now,” said Mrs. Todd, folding her arms, “which one o’ ye has been using my good meat cleaver?”
Hamish had a mad desire to laugh.
“So it was your meat cleaver,” said Donati. “Sit down, Mrs. Todd, and I’ll get to you soon. I am going into the study and I’ll interview you one by one. MacNab, you stay on duty here. Anderson, come with me and bring your notebook.” He turned to Hamish and said mildly, “No need for you to stay, Macbeth. The press will be back here in droves tomorrow and they’ll be at Mrs. Baird’s funeral. I’ll need you then.”
Hamish walked out of the bungalow. Well, it was what he’d decided, wasn’t it? Donati was highly competent and it was a messy murder. But as he drove back to Lochdubh, he could feel anger boiling up in him. Lochdubh was his patch. It was his responsibility to find out the murderer. He was being blinded by Donati’s efficiency. Also, it was almost as if Donati had assumed the mantle of Blair and had decided he didn’t want Hamish Macbeth on the case.
