Scotland kept a room for ‘best.’ What a waste of living space.
The door opened and the man from the photograph walked in. “What’s up?” he said. “You lot were round last month to check the guns and the gun cabinet.”
“Nothing to do with that,” said Hamish soothingly. He took out the photograph he had got from Mrs. Dinwiddie. “Is that you?”
“Aye, so it is. I loved that bike.”
“You’ll have read about the murder of Miss Amy Beattie?”
“I did that. Bad business. But what’s it got to do with me?”
“I’m trying to find out why Miss Beattie left Perth.”
“Oh, that’s easy. I remember it fine. It was those parents of hers. They found she’d been sneaking out to meet us and locked her up in her room after they’d burnt her clothes.”
“Was she your girlfriend?”
“Not me, laddie. She and Graham were pretty thick. But it didnae last long.”
“Have you ever been to Australia?”
Stoddart looked puzzled. “No, why?”
“Someone said you had.”
“Who was it?”
“Oh, just someone. I’ll maybe let you know later. Nothing to worry about. What was your impression of Miss Beattie?”
“She was a wild one. Up for anything. I ‘member when Graham’s folks were away for a week. Graham was on his own so he threw a party. We all got awfy drunk and Amy was dancing on the coffee table. It was a glass one and it broke. Graham was in such a state. He and Amy started shouting at each other and it got a bit nasty, so we all left them to it.”
“Who were the others?”
“Some bikers from down south and the local girls they’d picked up.”
“Thank you,” said Hamish. “I would appreciate it if you did not tell anyone of this visit.”
“Why?”
“I’m working undercover,” said Hamish desperately. But his lie appeared to satisfy the plumber.
¦
As Hamish was driving towards the bank, his radio crackled and he heard a voice hailing him. He cursed and switched it off. His absence had been noted, but he did not want to turn back now.
¦
“I want that bastard found…now!” Blair howled to Jimmy Anderson. “He’s probably still in his bed. He’s not answering his radio. Get over to Lochdubh and see if you can find him.”
“Why me? Can’t you send one of the policemen?”
“No, you’re so pally with him, you can go.”
Cursing Hamish under his breath, Jimmy drove to Lochdubh. He knocked at the kitchen door of the police station and shouted at the windows.
“It’s no use raising a fuss.” Jimmy swung round. He recognised the minister’s wife, Mrs. Wellington.
“Where’s he gone?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” said Mrs. Wellington. “But I was up early and saw him driving out of Lochdubh.”
No point in asking in which direction, thought Jimmy. There was only one road out of Lochdubh.
“You’re not the only one looking for him,” said Mrs. Wellington. “Sergeant MacGregor over at Cnothan is in bed with the cold. His wife phoned me. She said there’s been a burglary at the grocer’s and Hamish has got to cover for him.”
Annoyed as he was with Hamish, Jimmy saw a way of getting his friend off the hook. He thanked Mrs. Wellington and phoned Blair.
“Macbeth has been dragged off to cover a burglary at Cnothan. MacGregor’s sick.”
“Oh, all right. But he should have reported to me first.”
Now, thought Jimmy, all I have to do is to keep phoning Hamish and hope he answers. He’d better get to Cnothan fast before that grocer calls headquarters. Then he thought, Cnothan isn’t far. I could nip over there myself to soothe them down. But, by God, Hamish had better pay me in whisky for this.
¦
When Hamish presented himself at the bank, the teller who had gone in to see the manager reappeared, looking flustered.
“I’m afraid Mr. Simpson isn’t in today.”
“Is that a fact?”
“Where are you going?” she shrieked.
Hamish went straight to the bank manager’s door and opened it. Graham Simpson leapt to his feet. “You’ve got no right to barge your way in here.”
“And you have no right to lie to the police. Sit down. I’ve a few questions for you regarding Amy Beattie. You lied to me.”
“I did not,” blustered the bank manager.
“You said that Peter Stoddart went to Australia when he’s right here in Perth.”
“Is he? Someone must have told me he had gone to Australia.”
“Havers. You had an affair with Amy Beattie, didn’t you?”
“Oh, well, it isn’t a crime. I had a party one night at my house. We all got a bit drunk and Amy damaged a table. We had a row and then made up. We were both very drunk.”
Hamish sat down and surveyed him. He suddenly remembered that poison-pen letter that had been found by Miss Beattie’s body, which read: “I have proof that you’re a bastard. Your father never married your mother and I’ll tell everyone.”
He had never been able to see the point of that letter. Miss Beattie’s parents were married. But what if that letter had been sent to someone else, and that someone else had been so frightened that it had led to murder.
In a level voice, he asked, “So when did she tell you she was pregnant?”
“I’m a respectable man,” he began.
“Forget it. You can stay a respectable man unless you go on blocking my enquiries.”
Graham Simpson bowed his head. Hamish thought he wasn’t going to say anything, but at last he said in a low voice, “What a mess. She somehow managed to get a note to me three months later. She said she’d been missing her periods. She said her parents would kill her. I thought about it for a week and worried about it. Then I told my parents. They said I had to marry Amy, do the decent thing. I was going to go round there, but her parents arrived at our home and started shouting that Amy had run away and where was she? We couldn’t help them. Another week went by and I plucked up courage to go and call on them. They said they had a letter from Amy saying she never wanted to see either of them again. Her parents said they had struck her name from the family Bible and she was no longer any daughter of theirs. I never heard from Amy again.”
“Are you telling me the truth this time?”
“I swear to God. This could ruin me if it gets out.”
“If you didn’t kill anyone, it’s certainly not going to ruin you. How could an affair with a girl all those years ago ruin you?”
Hamish left the bank and climbed into the Land Rover. He took out his mobile phone to check for messages. There was a text message from Jimmy Anderson. It read: “Get your arse over to Cnothan fast. There’s been a break-in at the grocer’s.”
Like Jimmy, Hamish saw a way of covering up his visit to Perth. He switched on the blue light and the siren, no longer caring if the Perth police saw him, and broke the speed limit all the way north to Cnothan.
Although Jimmy had called before him, he had made only a cursory inspection before speeding off. Hamish found that the shop had a security camera and after studying the film was able to make out the features of two of the local youth. He arrested them and drove them down to Strathbane, where they were formally charged and told to appear in the sheriff’s court in a month’s time.
By the time he got to Lochdubh, he realised he hadn’t eaten all day and neither had Lugs. As usual, he fed
