is important.”
“I tell you what I’ll do for you,” said Hamish. “I’ll have a word with my boss and get you permission to leave.”
“I’ll leave when I’m good and ready.”
When they left her, Hamish saw Priscilla and Betty talking in the reception area. Betty gave him a wink and a cheeky smile. Priscilla’s face was smooth and expressionless.
“Where now?” asked Robin, jerking herself out of her thoughts with an effort.
“Back to Sea View. I wonder if Mrs. Dunne heard anything.”
“As far as I remember from the reports, she said she hadn’t.”
“Nonetheless, I would like to try again. I wonder if Dora Fleming was in her bed all night.”
¦
Mrs. Dunne complained she was too busy to answer any more questions. “That’s a pity,” said Robin, and then trotted out her usual compliment. “You see, people often do hear or see something and only remember it later. And you, being such an obviously quick-witted and intelligent lady, might just have remembered something.”
“What we’re after,” put in Hamish, “is whether you are sure that Dora Fleming spent all night in her bed.”
Mrs. Dunne stood frowning. She had been flattered by Robin’s compliment. “There was one thing,” she said slowly. “I thought I heard a wee noise at the back of the house.”
“Like what?”
“A sort of bang. I’ve got Mrs. Fleming here and a couple from Glasgow and three of the forestry workers. They were all in their rooms when I locked up. Och, I mind the days when I wouldn’t have bothered, but it’s a wicked world now.”
“Don’t the guests have their own keys?”
“I don’t trust anyone with the keys. I wait until they’re all indoors.”
“So how would anyone get out?”
“There’s the fire door at the back on the first.”
“Show it to us.”
She led the way upstairs and along a corridor on the first landing. Hamish studied the fire door, and then his sharp eyes noticed a small square wad of paper lying on the floor. He took out a pair of tweezers, lifted the paper, and put it in a cellophane envelope.
He thanked Mrs. Dunne and went back outside the building, followed by Robin.
“Why did you pick up that paper?” asked Robin.
“It could have been used to wedge the door so that someone could get back in again. Let’s get back to the unit and examine it properly.”
He explained to Jimmy what he had found. Then he took out the envelope and, putting on gloves, extracted the wad of paper. He laid it on Jimmy’s desk and gently opened it up. “It’s out o’ a film magazine,” Hamish said. “See, there’s a bit from the top of the page –
Mr. Patel said he only ordered two copies a month, the locals being more interested in magazines that dealt with television soaps than anything to do with the movies.
“Who bought them?”
“Mrs. Wellington bought one.” Hamish blinked in amazement. He’d never have guessed that the tweedy minister’s wife would want to read about movie stars.
“And the other one?”
“Oh, it was that wee woman who was married to the artist.”
They hurried back to tell Jimmy. “Good work,” he said. “Bring her in.”
¦
They found Dora Fleming crossing the humpback bridge on her way to the boarding house. They marched her back to the police unit and took her inside.
“What’s this all about?” she demanded.
“This,” said Jimmy, pointing to the piece from the film magazine. “This was lying by the fire door at Sea View. We think you used it to wedge the fire door when you crept out so you’d be able to get back in again.”
“Don’t be daft. It’s just a piece of paper.”
“It’s from a film magazine which you bought. The papers glossy, and we should get your prints off it. In fact, we’ll fingerprint you now.”
“I want a lawyer,” she screeched.
“You’ve already got her fingerprints,” interposed Robin. “We took the fingerprints of everyone who might be concerned right after Mr. Addenfest’s murder.”
“So we did,” said Jimmy with his foxy grin. “Right, young woman, where did you go, when, and why?”
“I didnae go anywhere!”
“We’ll look at the steps down from the fire door,” said Jimmy. “I’m sure we’ll find some footprints.”
She stared at him in mulish silence.
“Right,” said Jimmy. “I am taking you into police headquarters for questioning. Hamish, you and Robin go back to Sea View and have a look at the steps down from the fire door. See if you can find anything.”
As two policemen escorted Dora out to the car which was to take her to Strathbane, Jimmy phoned Daviot, who was up at the hotel arranging a room for the press conference. He told him of Hamish’s find. “It was a right smart piece of work on Macbeth’s part,” said Jimmy. “You can at least tell the press we’ve got a suspect.”
¦
Mrs. Dunne took Hamish and Robin round to the back of the house where an iron staircase led down from the fire door. “We’d better not add our own footprints,” said Hamish. The stairs led down to a weedy back garden. “We’ll just need to search through the garden and see if we can find anything.”
He knelt down and began to feel his way through the rough grass with his fingers. Robin was wearing a skirt and did not want to ladder her tights by following Hamish’s example.
“I’ve got to go to the loo,” she called. “Be back soon.”
She went round to the front of the house, knocked, and asked Mrs. Dunne if she could use her bathroom.
“Don’t leave a mess,” said Mrs. Dunne. “I keep a clean house.”
Robin carefully reapplied her make-up. Daviot’s rejection of her request to be at the press conference rankled, and she knew she would feel more confident if she brushed her hair and made up her face.
When she went out again, she saw Daviot’s car heading along the waterfront and eagerly flagged him down.
Daviot lowered the window. “What is it, Detective Mackenzie?”
“I had a marvellous piece of luck,” said Robin. “I found a piece of a magazine by the fire door at Sea View which had been used to wedge the door. I found out Dora Fleming had bought that magazine and – ”
He interrupted her, his voice cold and measured. “I have already heard of Hamish Macbeth’s detective work. Do not try to take credit from another officer again.”
The car window rolled up in her face, he tapped his driver on the shoulder, and the car moved on.
Robin felt miserable. She had dreamt of taking over Blair’s job one day. She trailed back to the garden to find Hamish putting something into an envelope.
“What have you found?” she asked.
“A used condom.”
“So what’s special about that? The local lads probably use this garden for a bit of nooky.”
“No, they don’t,” said Hamish. “I’ll take this straight over to Strathbane. Are you coming?”
But Robin did not want to run into Daviot.
? Death of a Dreamer ?
10
