Death of a Dreamer

copper doesn’t have.””

“Did you tell anyone what he had said?”

“I was that furious, I told a lot of people. Bessie came in for a coffee, and I told her.”

“Bessie! Man, you might as well have put up a neon sign in the village.”

“How was I to know he’d go and get himself kilt? I mean, everyone was saying thon artist committed suicide.”

“Weren’t the police up here during the night asking everyone about Hal?”

“Aye, but I was off duty, so they didn’t ask me. I suppose they only interviewed the staff who live in.”

Hamish went out into the main area of the hotel and into the manager’s office.

“This is a bad business,” said Mr. Johnson.

“Have the guests been checking out?”

“Not yet. But most of them won’t have heard anything. It’s too early.”

“Clarry said Mr. Addenfest was in the kitchen in the early evening complaining about his packed lunch. Did he come to see you?”

“I didn’t know he had even returned to the hotel. He may have left by the kitchen door.”

Hamish went back to Clarry. “Did Addenfest leave by the kitchen door?”

“Aye, he slammed out. Nearly took the door off its hinges.”

Hamish thanked him and then went back and asked Mr. Johnson which room Jock was in.

“He’s not paying, so we put him up in one of the attic rooms. It’s number sixty-two. We only put guests in there if we’re fully booked and they insist on staying. Hardly room to swing a cat.”

Hamish went up to the top of the castle, located Jock’s attic room, and knocked on the door. He waited. There was no reply. Suddenly anxious, he tried the handle. The door was unlocked. He opened it and went in.

There were two figures wrapped around each other on a single bed. One was Jock, and the other was the maid, Bessie.

? Death of a Dreamer ?

7

To see her is to love her,

And love but her forever,

For Nature made her what she is,

And ne’er made anither!

—Robert Burns

Hamish was about to retreat when Bessie woke up suddenly, saw him, and let out a scream. Jock awoke at the sound and struggled up against the pillows.

“I’ll see you downstairs in the lounge, Jock,” said Hamish.

Hamish sat in the lounge and began to wonder if he had been gravely wrong in his assessment of Jock’s character. Jock had seemed to him like an easy-going man, only interested in his work.

Betty Barnard entered the lounge. “Hamish! What brings you here?”

“I want a word with Jock. He’ll be down any minute.”

“Mind if I stay?”

“I would like a word with him in private.”

“I am his agent.”

“But not his lawyer,” said Hamish. “Please, Betty.”

“I heard that American had been found dead.”

“Yes.”

“So what’s that got to do with Jock?”

“I’ve got to check where anyone connected with Effie was last night.”

“What’s the death of this American got to do with Effie?”

“Here’s Jock,” said Hamish. “I’ll talk to you later.”

Betty went off, and Jock sat down opposite Hamish. “I know it looks bad,” he said. “But it gets a bit lonely up here.”

Hamish raised his eyebrows. “I would have thought with your agent being here and your ex-wife in Lochdubh, not to mention painting Priscilla, that you’d have enough company.”

“Come on, Hamish. I felt like a wee bit of sex, and the lassie was willing.”

“Where were you the night before last?”

“Let me see. I had dinner in the hotel with Betty. We stayed up late, and then we went to our rooms. She’ll confirm it.”

“I’m surprised Effie knew where Geordie’s Cleft was.”

“She probably asked someone.”

Her mobile phone, thought Hamish suddenly. I can’t remember anyone ever finding her phone. He stood up. “That’ll be all for now, Jock, but don’t leave Lochdubh.”

“It was a suicide. Can’t you leave it alone?”

“Hal Addenfest, the American who was staying here, was murdered. I think the two deaths are connected.”

Hamish left the lounge, leaving Jock staring after him.

To Hamish’s dismay, Jimmy Anderson, followed by police and detectives, entered the hotel. Jimmy was brandishing a search warrant.

“Do you have to do this?” asked Hamish, thinking uneasily of the effect on the hotel guests and subsequently on Priscilla. The guests may not have bothered to check out when they heard the news of the murder, but he was afraid a lot of them would do so after getting their rooms searched.

“Fraid so,” said Jimmy, knocking at the manager’s door. “He was hit with some sort of blunt weapon. He stayed here. We’ve got to look.”

“There was no blood around his head,” said Hamish. “Was he killed elsewhere? Did forensic find anything?”

“Yes, their little bloodshot eyes found a patch of blood further up the beach. Nothing else. That shingle won’t hold footprints. They had to work fast before the tide covered everything up as far as the seawall. Want to join in the search?”

“I think I’ll go back down to the village. The locals might tell me things they wouldnae tell you.”

¦

Elspeth Grant, who worked for the Bugle in Glasgow, was summoned by her news editor as soon as she got into the office.

“There’s a murder in Lochdubh,” he said. “Some American tourist. I want you to get up there right away.”

“But Matthew Campbell, who’s now the local reporter, covers that area. You know he’s good. He used to work for you.”

“He’s been getting sloppy since he was married. You know the area, you know the local copper, get home and pack a bag and get off as fast as possible.”

“I’ll take a plane to Inverness and hire a car once I get there.” Elspeth hoped the news editor would argue about the expense and maybe decide that, after all, the coverage should be left to Matthew. But he said, “Well, what are you waiting for?”

Elspeth did not want to see Hamish Macbeth again. She had been in love with him, and he had rejected her. The hurt had been deep, and so she had refused to accept any phone calls from him.

She was able to pack a bag, drive to the airport, and book herself on the eleven o’clock plane to Inverness. At the airport, having left her own car at Glasgow airport, she hired a car and set out for Sutherland.

She drove steadily up towards Lochdubh, her anger at the job dissipating as she found herself once more back over the highland line.

Elspeth decided to book in at the Tommel Castle Hotel. She hoped any story she might get would be worth all