have let yourself in like everyone else does,” said Hamish, unlocking the door. “You know where the spare key is kept.”
“I just got here.”
Hamish let him in. Then he remembered his dog and cat. Where had they gone? The last he had seen of them was when they had headed off together.
The phone in the office rang, and he went to answer it. It was Angela Brodie, the doctor’s wife. “I saw your police car passing, and I’ve sent your animals home. They were round here mooching food. I’ve fed them both.”
“Thanks, Angela. I’ve got to rush. I’ll call on you tomorrow.”
When Hamish returned to the kitchen, it was to find Jimmy frantically rummaging in the cupboards.
“The whisky’s in the oven,” said Hamish.
“What’s it doing there?”
“Well, the locals come round and say, “What about a dram?” and if I want rid of them, I say I haven’t any. I’ve even known them to do what you were doing and start searching the cupboards, saying they’re sure I have some and I’ve just forgotten where I put it.”
Jimmy retrieved the half bottle from the oven and took down two glasses from a cupboard.
Jimmy poured a large measure for himself and a small one for Hamish. He drained his glass and filled it up again.
“That’s better.” He sighed. “What have you got?”
Hamish described everything he had found out.
“So,” said Jimmy, “the main thing is the missing papers or letters. Safe-deposit box?”
“Oh, my, I forgot about that one.”
“Don’t worry. I’ve a feeling she wouldn’t leave them there and that the manager would have told you if she had a safe-deposit box. Maybe she bought some sort of lock-up.”
“Or she might just have buried them in her garden.”
“There’s an idea. I’ll get the men onto it.”
“How did you get on with Mrs. Styles?”
Jimmy poured himself more whisky. “That was quite a scene,” he said. “Blair tried to bully her, and she tore into him and called him a disgrace. She said he was not a Christian. He was that furious, he was going to take her in for questioning. She phoned Daviot and said she was putting in a complaint for police harassment. Daviot pulled Blair off and suggested it would be better if the questioning was left to Hamish Macbeth. Of course, Blair agreed, hoping that Mrs. Styles would put in a complaint about you.”
“I’ll try her first thing in the morning.” A sharp bark sounded from outside the door. Hamish opened it, and Lugs and Sonsie slouched in.
“This is interesting, the bit where that old neighbour told you that Bernie Fleming might have been murdered. How would Mrs. Gillespie know? No proof.”
“She might have been cleaning at the time. Say Mrs. Fleming lost her temper and gave him an almighty push. What about the professor, now?” asked Hamish. “Silly pompous wee man that he is.”
“Blair toadied to him, so we didn’t get much. He was never married. Doesn’t seem to be gay. Blameless, boring life, if you ask me.”
“Someone as arrogant as he is wouldn’t have gone on putting up with such as Mrs. Gillespie for long.”
“Could be,” said Jimmy. “But by all accounts the woman was a bully. Blair’s a bully and look at the way he arse-licked the old boy. Maybe she treated him well. Anyway, now that our esteemed leader thinks you have the right touch, you’ll be able to have a talk with him yourself.”
The kitchen door opened, and Elspeth walked in, followed by Luke Teviot. “I’m off,” said Jimmy. “How’re things in the big city, Elspeth?”
“Not as exciting as here. You’ve got a murder.”
“Ask your boyfriend about it,” said Jimmy, and made his escape.
“Boyfriend?” asked Luke.
“He was just joking,” said Elspeth quickly.
Luke sat down at the kitchen table. “Got an ashtray in here?”
Hamish took out an ashtray from one of the cupboards and put it on the table. Luke lit a cigarette. Hamish had given up smoking a long time ago and was annoyed to find himself longing for one.
Elspeth and Hamish sat down and surveyed each other warily. Elspeth had had her frizzy hair straightened, and Hamish was not sure whether he liked it or not. She was also dressed smart-casual rather than in the usual assortment of thrift shop clothes she used to wear.
“You made it here fast,” said Hamish. “You’ve both been sent to cover the murder?”
“No, we’re here on holiday together.”
“So you’re an item?”
“No,” said Luke, and “Yes,” said Elspeth, both at the same time.
Luke noticed that Hamish now seemed amused and relaxed where a moment before he had been stiff and angry.
“The thing is,” said Elspeth, “that we could both end up having a paid holiday. The news desk is keen on this.”
“Why?” asked Hamish curiously. “You’ve got murders damn near every day in Glasgow. This is chust one auld woman who got bashed with her bucket.”
“Because we happen to be up here, and a murder in the Highlands is considered more interesting, so what can you tell us?”
“Elspeth, you know the ropes. You’ll both need to go to Strathbane and get the official statement. I cannae tell you anything other than the fact that, yes, she was murdered when she was leaving Professor Sander’s house in Braikie. I found the body.”
“Why were you there?” asked Elspeth.
“Chust happened to be passing.”
“You’re lying, Hamish.” Elspeth’s silver eyes were fixed on his face. “We’ve been to view the scene of the crime. The prof’s house is at the end of a cul-de-sac. Bessie, the maid at the hotel, told me you’d won the services of Mrs. Gillespie in a raffle. You went to see her. What about? There’s a rumour flying around that she might have been a blackmailer. Did she ferret among the police papers?”
“That’s enough,” said Hamish sharply. “Look, Elspeth, I’ll do a deal wi’ ye. Go to police headquarters. Get a statement from them. Do it by the book. But there’s one thing I’ll tell you: if she was a blackmailer, I can’t find a letter or even bills in her house – not a bit of paper. She may have hidden them somewhere. You find out where, and I’ll give you what I’ve got.”
“You’re on. Not like you not to offer us some refreshment, Hamish.”
“I’m tired, and Jimmy’s drunk all the whisky. Off with the pair of you.”
¦
Outside the police station, Luke said, “That policeman’s keen on you. And what about you? Why did you let him think we were an item?”
“Stop asking questions. There’s a good restaurant along here. I’m hungry.”
Elspeth stalked off. Luke watched her, amused, and then followed after her.
? Death of a Maid ?
4
—Robert Louis Stevenson
Before visiting Mrs. Styles the following morning, Hamish decided to call in at the bakery in Braikie to have a talk with Mrs. Gillespie’s friend Queenie Hendry. He remembered Queenie as soon as he set eyes on her. He had interviewed her once before when he was tracking down a murderer. She was a pleasant- looking middle-aged woman with neat grey hair and a rosy-cheeked face. He found it hard to believe that she should
