then there was the bathroom heater. I had run my bath and was just about to step into it when the wall heater came tumbling down, right into the bath. I called in a local builder, but he said the heater had probably just come loose as the plaster was damp.”
“Did you think of telling the local policeman?”
“The local policeman is Sandy Ferguson. Have you heard of him?”
“Yes,” said Hamish, remembering the famous day in Strathbane when Sandy Ferguson, drunk as usual, had told Detective Chief Inspector Blair exactly what he thought of him and had been subsequently banished to the Hebrides. “Never say you’re living on Eileencraig!”
Jane nodded.
“You’d better begin at the beginning,” said Hamish.
Jane looked doubtfully at the thin, red-haired constable in the old dressing-gown and then made up her mind.
“I run a health farm called The Happy Wanderer…”
“Oh, my.” Hamish winced.
“Called The Happy Wanderer,” went on Jane firmly, “on the island of Eileencraig. Part of the healthy regime is brisk walking. I decided to go into business for myself after my divorce two years ago. It had been pretty successful. Health farms are the coming thing. I not only teach people how to have a healthy body but how to get in touch with their innermost feelings. Do you read me?”
“Sort of.”
“Well, the islanders are a clannish lot and don’t like incomers, so I thought perhaps the rock thingie and the heater thingie were, well, pranks to scare me away. That was until I spoke to Mrs. Bannerman at Skulag, the main village, and she read my tea-leaves and she saw death in them. Someone from far away was trying to kill me, she said. That’s when I began to worry about my guests.”
“Paying guests?”
“No, the health farm is closed for the winter. Friends.”
“Who are these friends?”
“People I invited to spend Christmas with me. There’s a Mr. and Mrs. Todd from Glasgow, he’s in real estate; then there’s Harriet Shaw, the writer.”
“Haven’t heard of her,” commented Hamish.
“You wouldn’t. She writes cookery books. There’s Sheila and Ian Carpenter from Yorkshire – dear, dear people, he’s a farmer.” Jane threw back her head and gave a merry laugh. She’s practised that laugh in front of the mirror, thought Hamish suddenly. “And,” said Jane, suddenly looking solemn, “there’s my ex.”
“Your ex-husband?”
“Yes, John. He’s been working so hard. He does need a holiday.”
“Who divorced whom?”
The large eyes opposite shifted away from him slightly. “Oh, we were very civilised about it. A mutual agreement. Well, there you are. What do you think?”
“Are they still there?”
“Oh, yes. After what Mrs. Bannennan saw in the tea-leaves, I felt I had to get away to meditate and heard Priscilla had fallen on hard times and so I thought I would hop over for a couple of nights just to think. What do you think?”
“First of all,” said Hamish, “I believe Eileencraig is a weird enough place to give anyone the jitters. You’re right. They hate incomers. I think the heater and the rock were plain and simple accidents. But when the villagers heard you were going to visit Mrs. Bannennan to get your fortune told, they must have put her up to giving you a fright. That, in my opinion, is all there is to it.”
She leaned forward and the blouse plunged alarmingly again. “Do you know,” said Jane in that breathy, sexy voice of hers, “you are a most intelligent man.” She threw back her head and gave that practised merry laugh of hers again. “I was so edgy that when Priscilla told me about you, I was going to invite you to come back with me for Christmas and bribe you with the promise of an old–fashioned dinner of turkey and mince pies.”
Hamish sat stricken. Then he said carefully, “On the other hand, I cannot help thinking about my Aunt Hannah, her that lives in San Francisco.”
“Yes?”
“She always swore she would neffer set foot in Scotland again, but a wee woman in the Chinese quarter told her fortune and said she would soon be going on a long journey to her native land. She forgot all about it, until one day she found she had booked a plane flight home to Scotland. Then there wass ma cousin Jamie…”
Jane’s mouth fell a little open as she gazed at him.
“Yes, Jamie,” said Hamish in a crooning voice. “He was at this game fair and a gypsy woman had a caravan there. Jamie and his friends had a wee bit too much to drink and they urged Jamie to have his tea-leaves read. Into that black caravan he went, laughing something awful and telling that gypsy woman it was all a load of rubbish. But she read the leaves.”
“And?” urged Jane, who was goggling at him.
“And the gypsy woman said, “Laugh ye may, but look out for your life. Next week, someone is going to try to kill you.” Well, Jamie, he thought she was trying to get revenge because he had laughed at her, but the very next week” – Hamish lowered his voice to a whisper – “he was in Aberdeen, looking for work on the rigs and someone mugged him.”
“No!”
“Oh, yes, and stuck a knife in his side. He’s lucky to be alive.”
“I have never jeered at the paranormal,” said Jane. “You may think me foolish, Hamish, but I am begging you now to come with me. Can you get any leave?”
“I happen to be on leave as from tomorrow,” said Hamish, “but with this cold…”
“I have very good central heating,” said Jane, “and you will be looked after like a king.”
“Seeing as how you are a friend of Priscilla’s, I’ll force myself to go,” said Hamish.
???
When Priscilla arrived to pick Jane up, she looked amazed to hear that Hamish intended to travel to Eileencraig with Jane and stay there for Christmas. “I’ll talk to you later,” said Priscilla.
Jane’s eyes fell on Towser. “No dogs,” she said.
“Perhaps I can take Towser.” Priscilla looked doubtful. “But I’ll talk to you later, Hamish.”
After they had gone, Hamish poured himself a celebratory whisky. He had nearly blown it. If he had not invented those tales about his relatives and the tea-leaves, he might not have had a comfortable Christmas to look forward to.
Priscilla arrived that evening, looking cross. “What on earth are you up to, Hamish Macbeth? Jane told me some rubbish about tea-leaves and I was leaving it to you to talk her out of it. Besides, what will your family think?”
“They don’t want me,” said Hamish. “Aunt Hannah’s coming over from the States and that means I have to stay away. She cannae stand me. Och, I forgot the presents for the family. I was supposed to take them over at the end of the week.”
He looked at Priscilla pleadingly.
“All right! All right!” she said impatiently. “I’ll take Towser and the presents over to Rogart. In fact, I’ll do it tomorrow and get it over with. There’s bad weather forecast. The wind’s turned to the east and all that slush is beginning to freeze like mad. I can’t help feeling guilty about letting you trick Jane into that invitation, but seeing as how you’ve got a holiday and nowhere else to go, and seeing as how Jane is simply loaded, I suppose it should be all right.”
“You’re always rushing.” Hamish tried to take her coat. “Sit down for a bit.”
“No, no, I daren’t. We’ve got a party of Spanish aristocrats. They speak perfect English, which is something Daddy refuses to understand, so he shouts at them and thinks if he puts ‘h’ in front of everything, he’s speaking Spanish. You should hear him roaring, ‘H’everything h’okay?’”
She threw her arms about him and gave him an impulsive hug. “Be good, Hamish. Have a merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas,” echoed Hamish as she hurtled out of the door and banged it behind her. He could still feel
