another big crime up here, I would be obliged if you could ask Strathbane for me.”
“Oh.” Hamish leaned back and studied Blair thoughtfully. “Why should I do that? At least Donati let me in on most of the case. You always send me off wi’ a flea in my ear.”
“Stands tae reason,” blustered Blair. “You’re only the village copper. Look! I promise to let ye in on the ground floor next time. Hae another drink.”
“I haven’t started this one yet. So what’s behind it all?” Hamish looked at the big detective thoughtfully. Then he gave a slow smile. “Donati’s gone. But there’s another bright spark climbing up the ranks. Who is it?”
“This wee bastard, Finnock. Slimy wee bugger wi’ a face like an arse,” said Blair viciously. “It’s yes, Mr. Daviot, and certainly, sir, and here are some flowers frae my garden fur your wife, sir, and lick your bum, sir. Yuch!”
“And I thought you were the best crawler in the business,” said Hamish. Blair looked about to explode so he said placatingly, “Okay. I’ll ask for you next time. But believe me, there cannae be a next time or we’ll be changing the name o’ the place from Lochdubh to Murder Village!”
After Blair had finally driven off, Hamish returned to the police station. He was not used to drinking so much whisky in the middle of the day and he felt quite lightheaded.
He saw Alison and Peter Jenkins waiting outside the police station and turned to flee but it was too late. Alison had seen him.
As he approached the couple, he found he was staring at Alison in surprise. Her hair was shining and groomed in a new feathery cut. Gone were the thick glasses. She was expertly made up and she was wearing a blue cotton blouse and a pair of hot pants which revealed that she had very good legs indeed.
“Hey, Hamish!” said Alison cheerfully. “We’ve come to say goodbye.”
“Come inside and I’ll make some tea,” said Hamish. “Where are you going?”
“I’m putting that bungalow up for sale. Peter and I are getting married.” She held out a slim hand to show a diamond engagement ring.
“Congratulations!” said Hamish. Peter smiled modestly as if he had done something very clever.
“Where are you going to live?” asked Hamish, putting on the kettle.
“In London,” said Alison. “Maggie owned a flat in May-fair, in Charles Street. We’re moving there. Peter wants to build up his advertising agency but I said to him, why bother? I mean, I’ve enough for both of us.”
“It’ll certainly be pleasant to be a gentleman of leisure,” drawled Peter.
As Alison talked, Hamish watched her animated face. She and Peter would travel. There were so many countries she wanted to see.
Another butterfly, thought Hamish. It takes a weak man to make a strong woman. Alison was the one who was making all the decisions. Now that she was no longer interested in him, Hamish found her likeable.
“You haven’t said anything about a new car,” he said. “There certainly wasn’t much of your mini left by the time they got it out to find the brakes had been tampered with.”
“I don’t want to drive anymore,” said Alison with a shudder. “Peter can do all the driving from now on.”
When they left, Hamish hoped Alison would manage to keep her fortune. A million pounds was no longer what it used to be and could be dissipated in an amazingly short space of time.
He was just settling down to enjoy some peace and quiet when he sensed an unease outside. He couldn’t quite place it, but it was as if something bad had happened to alarm the village. He went round to his front garden and leaned on the fence.
Agnes, one of the maids from Tommel Castle, was coming along the main street. She stopped to talk to the Currie sisters and Hamish heard the sisters’ sharp exclamations of surprise and dismay.
Not another murder, he thought.
Agnes came nearer and he went to meet her. “What’s happened?” he asked.
“It’s himself. The colonel,” gasped Agnes. “Called us all together last night and said he’d have to fire us all. He’s lost all his money! What do you think happened?”
But Hamish was off and running for the Land Rover.
The castle door was open and Hamish walked in. Priscilla was crossing the hall. She stopped short at the sight of him and then she began to cry in a helpless way.
He put his arms around her and held her close, stroking her hair. When she had calmed down, he led her into the drawing room and sat down on the sofa with her, a comforting arm around her shoulders.
“What exactly happened?” he asked. “Agnes says he fired all the staff last night.”
“Yes. He…he…called Mummy and me into the study and told us what was worrying him. As he talked, he got into one of his rages and I was afraid he might have a stroke. I feel so guilty.” She dried her eyes firmly and gave a pathetic hiccup.
Mrs. Halburton-Smythe came into the room and stopped short at the sight of Hamish. Then she came forward and sat down, looking helplessly at him. “What are we to do, Hamish?” she said. There were two spots of colour on her pale cheeks and, unlike her daughter, she looked angry. “How could he do this to us?”
“Do what?” asked Hamish sharply.
Priscilla twisted her wet handkerchief in her hands. “That’s why I feel so guilty,” she said. “If it hadn’t been for me this would never have happened. Do you remember John Harrington?”
“Your boyfriend who got done for insider trading? Yes.”
“It turns out he had persuaded Daddy to let him have a vast sum to invest. Well, he didn’t invest it. He skipped bail and the country with it.”
“We’ve got nothing at all,” said Mrs. Halburton-Smythe. “Nothing.”
“Oh, dear.” Hamish looked about him. “But you have the castle, and the estates alone must be worth a fortune.”
“Yes, but everything costs a fortune to run,” said Priscilla. “We can sell it. We have to sell it. But we’re letting down the locals. Most of the staff apart from Jenkins, the butler, come in daily from the village but they rely on us for work. Daddy decided to fire the lot of them, not to mention the gamekeepers and gardeners and water bailiffs. We tried to tell him that somehow the place would need to be kept going until we could find a buyer, but he wouldn’t listen.”
Hamish thought quickly. “You might not have to sell it,” he said.
Priscilla’s mother looked at him in anguish. “Don’t be stupid,” she wailed. “Haven’t we just told you we can’t afford to run it?”
“There’s a way you could,” said Hamish, “and keep the staff. Where is the colonel?”
“In his study,” said Priscilla. “But don’t bother him, Hamish. The last person he will want to see is you.”
“Be back in a minute,” said Hamish with a grin. “I think he’ll listen to me.”
Mrs. Halburton-Smythe made a halfhearted attempt to stop him and then sank helplessly back in her chair.
Hamish went across the hall to the study and went in without knocking. Colonel Halburton-Smythe looked up and a purplish colour rose in his cheeks.
“Get out of here!” he roared. “Can’t you see I’ve got enough to worry me without listening to the ditherings and bletherings of the village idiot?”
For one blissful minute, Hamish imagined how lovely it would be to tell the old horror to go to hell and fry. But then he thought of Priscilla. He pulled out a chair and sat down and smiled amiably at the colonel.
“I hae thought o’ a grand way in which you could keep this house and the estates and the staff.”
The colonel looked at him in silence, his eyes popping. Then he shrugged. “You’re mad,” he said.
“No, just listen. You’ve got grand fishing and shooting here,” said Hamish. “Run it as a hotel. Wi’ the shooting and the fishing, you could charge top rates. You’ve got a lot of bedrooms and most of them have their own bathroom.”
The colonel stared at Hamish in silence, his small mouth hanging slightly open.
There was a soft knock at the door which then opened and Priscilla and her mother came into the study, both fearful in case Hamish’s visit was driving the colonel into an apoplexy.
“Are you all right, dear?” asked the colonel’s wife timidly. The colonel waved a peremptory hand for silence and sat staring off into the distance.
“What did you say?” whispered Priscilla fiercely in Hamish’s ear. “He looks worse. He looks as if he has had a terrible shock.”
