diving after I joined the Glasgow Diving Club.”
They had their tickets checked, then walked together to board the plane. “Are you all right?” asked Harry. “You’re as white as a sheet.”
“I was investigating something. You’re not to tell anyone, mind. I wasn’t supposed to be in Glasgow as far as the police were concerned. Someone crept up on me and bashed me on the head.”
“You’d better go to your doctor when you get back to Lochdubh. What happened exactly?”
As they sat together on the plane, Hamish told him about breaking into Jock’s flat.
“Someone must have been following you,” said Harry. “Who knew you were going to Glasgow?”
“Only my boss, Jimmy Anderson.”
“I thought that one would have died of liver failure by now, and what do you mean your boss? Isn’t that old scunner Blair still in charge?”
“He’s out of commission. Took a tumble down some steps and broke his arm and his collarbone.”
“Couldn’t happen to a nicer fellow.”
¦
They parted at Inverness airport, Harry promising to visit Hamish in Lochdubh before he went back to Glasgow.
Hamish drove carefully homewards. The light hurt his eyes even more, and he put on sunglasses.
At the police station, he found the cat and dog were out. He had phoned Angela before he had left and had asked her to open the door for them at certain times during the day.
He still felt ill, so he went out again and walked to Dr. Brodie’s. Angela opened the door to him, her thin face sharpening in concern. “You look dreadful, Hamish.”
“Someone hit me on the head. I had it looked at in Glasgow, but I’d feel better if your man could take a look as well.”
“I’ll get him. Sit down, Hamish.”
Hamish sat down wearily at the kitchen table. Three of Angelas cats leapt on the table among the dirty dishes and laptop and stared at him with unblinking eyes.
Dr. Brodie bustled in. “I’ll take you to the surgery, Hamish, and examine you.”
In the surgery, he gently examined Hamish’s head. “How did this happen?”
“Someone crept up behind me in Glasgow and socked me on the head.”
“There’s a big lump, but the skin isn’t broken.”
“The hospital in Glasgow is sending on the X-rays.”
“Good. I’ll need to keep a close eye on you, Hamish. You may experience dizziness, headaches, and weakness in the legs. I’m surprised the hospital didn’t keep you in for observation.”
“I had to get away. I wasn’t supposed to be in Glasgow, and I didn’t want the police to know I had been detecting on their patch.”
“Go home and get some sleep. Phone headquarters and tell them you are taking time off. Come back tomorrow, and I’ll have another look at you.”
Hamish left the surgery to find Lugs and Sonsie waiting for him on the road outside.
“Come on home,” he said. “I’m going to get something to eat and go to bed.”
At the police station, he phoned Jimmy and told him about the letter with the Brighton postmark and then about being knocked down.
“I’ll get straight up to see that sister, Caro. She may have known Jock before.”
“I should go with you.”
“You’d better rest. At least take tomorrow off. I’ll see you in the morning and let you know how I get on.”
Hamish fed the dog and cat. Then he heated up a can of soup for himself but only ate half of it. To his horror, tears began to run down his cheeks and he started shivering again.
He heated up two hot-water bottles and put them in his bed. He took a hot shower and then, followed by his pets, climbed wearily into bed. His last waking thought was that there should be some woman around to look after him.
¦
Caro opened the door to Jimmy Anderson and a policewoman. “What now?” she asked in alarm.
“I think we’d better go inside,” said Jimmy.
The policewoman sat in a chair in the corner of the room and took out her notebook.
“Now, Miss Garrard,” began Jimmy, “you knew Jock Fleming before, didn’t you?”
“Of course not.”
“We have proof that you knew him in Brighton,” lied Jimmy.
Her eyes dilated with fright, and then she said, “I didn’t want to say anything about it. It would look so suspicious.”
“Let’s have the real story.”
“I have a gallery in Brighton where I sell my stuff. He came in one day, and we got talking. Effie wasn’t there. She was already up here. I had two postcards from her pinned up behind my desk. They were scenic views of Lochdubh. He said it looked like a beautiful place and where was it? I told him Lochdubh in Sutherland. He took me out for a drink.”
“You had an affair with him,” said Jimmy flatly.
She hung her head. “It was a one·night stand. He left Brighton the next day.”
“And have you seen him since you have been up here?”
“I phoned him at the hotel. He shouted at me. He said he wished he’d never set eyes on my sister. He told me to leave him alone. He said he’d kill me if I told the police about our fling because they suspected him already and he didn’t want them knowing anything else.”
“I should charge you with withholding information,” said Jimmy heavily. “Is there anything else you haven’t been telling us?”
“No.”
“And there’s no way Effie could have known you had an affair with Jock?”
“No. I wanted to tell her, but I couldn’t.”
“Why not?”
“Effie was always jealous of me. I felt it would only make her obsession worse if I told her. She would go mad trying to prove to me that she had succeeded where I had failed.”
“I want you to stay in Lochdubh and hold yourself ready for further questioning. PC Ettrick here will type up your statement. Report to the police unit in the morning and sign it.”
¦
Betty Barnard was walking along the waterfront in the morning when she saw Dr. Brodie leaving the police station. She stopped him. “Is Hamish ill?”
“He’s had a bit of a concussion, but I think he’ll be all right if he takes things easy.”
Betty let herself into the police station. She walked into the bedroom. “How did you get concussed, Hamish?”
“I slipped and struck my head on the bath.”
“I tell you what, that bed looks uncomfortable. Get up and sit in a chair in your living room, and I’ll clean the sheets for you. Do you have a washing machine?”
“It’s in a cupboard in the living room. It’s one o’ the kind you wheel up to the kitchen sink and put a hose on the tap, but don’t bother. I’m fine. You shouldnae be here.”
“Nonsense. You look dreadful. Up you get.”
¦
As Betty washed the sheets, she thought that the machine ought to be in a museum. The day was dry and sunny with a fresh breeze. She carried the sheets out into the back where there was a washing line and pinned them out to dry.
When she came back in to where Hamish was huddled in an armchair, she asked, “Where’s your clean linen?”
“In a cupboard in the bedroom.”
