“That’s not fair,” protested Harriet. “It’s his case.”
“Neffer mind,” said Hamish, although he was furious with Blair. “I need some sleep and so do you.”
“After I’ve interviewed her,” said Blair pompously, looking Harriet up and down.
Jane was efficiently clearing up dirty glasses and plates and stacking them on a tray. “You can use my office,” she said, “but you had better let me know now how it is that the constable who found the body is being barred from the investigation.”
Her upperclass accents fell unwelcomely on Blair’s ears. Blair had made up his mind it was an accident and wanted to get back to the mainland as soon as possible, and he didn’t want Hamish Macbeth around, throwing a spanner in the works. On the other hand, he didn’t want to offend anyone who might raise a dust with headquarters. “I was merely concerned for his welfare,” he growled. “All right then. You can stay, Macbeth. Show us to the office, Mrs. Wetherby, and we’ll start with you.”
Soon he was seated behind Jane’s desk, with his detectives standing respectfully behind him. That was the way he liked it. Jane sat opposite and Hamish lounged over near the door and tried not to yawn.
“Now, Mrs. Wetherby…oh, we’d better have a copper take doon yer statement. Got yer notebook, Macbeth?”
“I’m on holiday,” said Hamish patiently.
“All right, Anderson, you do it.”
Jimmy Anderson found a hard chair in the corner and pulled out a notebook.
“I saw three policemen in the other helicopter,” said Hamish, and Jimmy Anderson flashed him a grateful look.
“I’m no’ going oot tae look for them,” said Blair.
“Where is…the body?” asked Jane.
“At the doctor’s surgery in the village,” replied Blair. “Now, Mrs. Wetherby, let us begin.”
It was then that Jane dropped her bombshell. “The murderer meant to kill me, not Heather.”
Blair’s eyes bulged. “Whit?”
So Jane told him all about the reason for Hamish’s visit and about Heather’s taking her coat and Blair groaned inwardly at this extra complication. Jane then went on to describe how the others had gone out for a walk. She had meant to follow them but had got a sudden headache and had taken a couple of aspirins and gone to bed.
Hamish looked at her suspiciously. He was sure Jane had never had a headache in her life, and furthermore would have been more apt to drink herb tea if she did have a headache, rather than take aspirin.
“And then I got up,” Jane went on. The black dress had a deep V at the front. She leaned forward and stared at Blair, whose eyes goggled at the amount of rich cleavage exposed. “Diarmuid – Mr. Todd – was in the lounge and shortly afterwards I joined him. The rest, minus Heather, came back. We went out to search. I was on my own. I walked as far as the centre of the island before I gave up. I didn’t see any of the other searchers until I got back.”
Blair asked her a few more questions and then dismissed her after asking her to send John Wetherby in.
The barrister appeared looking cross, dressed in pyjamas and dressing-gown. He railed on for several minutes about the ‘indecent’ party until he was silenced by Blair’s remarking patronizingly that he had obviously never attended a Highland funeral, just as if he, Blair, had not been equally shocked by the festivities.
Blair’s questions, to Hamish’s surprise, were only perfunctory. His surprise increased as the Carpenters and Hariet were also questioned in the same brief manner. Where was Blair’s usual hectoring and bullying?
They were finally all allowed to go to bed, Blair saying he would be back first thing in the morning.
“It nearly is morning,” said Harriet to Hamish and then gave a cavernous yawn. “So much for a police grilling. He never really asked anything. Maybe he’s saving his big guns for Diarmuid.”
“Maybe,” said Hamish, although in his heart of hearts he felt that Blair, who had worked Christmas so as to have extra time to enjoy the New Year celebrations, was only interested in getting it written off as an accident.
???
Blair did not turn up until ten o’clock, and with him he brought Jessie Maclean, Diarmuid’s secretary, who had arrived on a fishing boat. She was a slim, pale girl in her late twenties with straight brown hair and horn-rimmed spectacles.
Diarmuid was summoned to Jane’s office. Jessie went to fetch him and tried to follow nun in, but Blair told her sharply that as she had reported to him as soon as she had got off the boat and he had taken her statement, he had no more need of her.
Flanked by his detectives and this time with a uniformed policeman complete with tape recorder, Blair started his interrogation. Hamish hovered by the door, watching Diarmuid’s bland and handsome face. He discovered to his surprise that he did not like Diarmuid, but why, he did not know. Heather had been so awful that all he had felt before for Diarmuid was mild pity.
“Now,” said Blair, “we are sorry we have to put you through this, Mr. Todd, but I’ll need your movements yesterday.”
Diarmuid took out a pipe, filled it and lit it carefully. “I had a row with my wife when we were out walking, I confess that.”
“What was it about?”
“Money,” said Diarmuid. “I told her she would need to pull her horns in a bit when we got back to Glasgow. No more lavish entertaining. She took exception to this and stormed off. I walked about a bit and then returned to the hotel. There was no sign of Jane, so I read a book. Jane emerged from her room just as the others returned.” He went on to describe the search, saying he had walked miles along the beach on the eastern side of the island in front of the hotel.
“I gather from Miss Maclean that your finances are in a bad way,” said Blair.
“Well, I must admit the slump in house sales caused by the high interest rates caught me on the hop. That’s why Heather and I could take such a long holiday. I dismissed the staff and locked up for the whiter. I’d already sold off two of my branches, so there was just the main office left. What a mess. Thank God Jessie’s here. She’ll be able to sort it all out.”
“Do you inherit anything on your wife’s death?”
“Nothing but a joint overdraft,” said Diarmuid.
“Was her life insured?”
Hamish listened hard.
“It was, but we didn’t keep up the payments, so there’s nothing from that.” Diarmuid sighed heavily.
Blair looked at him sharply. “You know we can check on all this at the Glasgow end?”
“You don’t even need to do that,” said Diarmuid a trifle smugly. “Jessie’s brought all the relevant business papers with her.”
“Why should she do that?”
“Because I phoned her and told her to.”
Blair looked at him suspiciously as he sat there smoking and frowning deeply, like an actor sitting smoking and frowning deeply. There was always something stagy about Diarmuid, Hamish thought.
The Detective Chief Inspector was worried. He did not like Diarmuid’s attitude. He did not like the way he had had the foresight to get his secretary to come up, complete with papers. But Blair wanted to wrap the case up as soon as possible.
“How did Miss Maclean get here so quickly?” he asked.
“There’s a night train from Glasgow to Oban, which arrives at six in the morning. I told her to get that and I phoned the hotel and arranged for one of the fishing boats to go over and pick her up.”
“You must ha’ paid a fair whack to get a fishing boat to go all that way.”
“Yes, but I needed Jessie’s help,” said Diarmuid patiently.
“Who was the fisherman?” asked Hamish suddenly.
“Angus Macleod. Him that usually runs trips to the mainland for Jane,” said Diarmuid.
“But,” expostulated Hamish, “Angus Macleod iss the fellow who shut Jane up in that pillbox.”
“What’s this?” asked Blair.
With a studied patience that was beginning to get on Hamish’s nerves, Diarmuid explained about the ‘prank’. Hamish could almost sense Blair relaxing. There was now no doubt in Hamish’s mind that Blair was going to do
