The prices made him blink, but there was a set menu for twenty pounds. He chose lobster bisque, followed by sea bream and salad, and although he would have liked some wine, he decided to settle for mineral water instead.
“I can’t go on like this,” said a woman’s voice in the booth behind him. “People are talking. Why don’t you get a divorce?”
Hamish, who had been about to remove his wool hat, pulled it further down about his ears instead. He recognised that voice. It was Fiona Fleming.
“I can’t.” Male voice: Dr. Renfrew. “I have my position in the community to consider. Look, it’s been fun, but let’s just leave it now. People are beginning to talk.”
“I’ll tell your wife, you bastard. You can’t dump me just like that. You said you wanted to spend the rest of your life with me!”
“Men say a lot of things in the…er…heat of the moment that they don’t mean. Look, Fiona, darling, we can still be friends.”
Ouch, thought Hamish. He’s for it now.
There came a splashing sound, and then the top of Fiona’s head appeared above the partition. Must have thrown her drink over him, Hamish guessed.
“I’ll make you sorry. I’ll make you wish you’d never been born,” howled Fiona.
No one ever says anything original when they’re hurt, thought Hamish.
Then came the sound of rapidly retreating high heels.
He heard the doctor calling for the bill.
If she did kill her husband, thought Hamish, that man’s life will be in danger. Even if she didn’t, I think she’ll turn really vicious.
He concentrated on eating his meal, wondering what to do next. Would Inspector Cannon really expect him to go on following the professor, day in and day out?
Hamish finished his meal and returned to Lochdubh. Television vans were drawn up along the waterfront. He prayed some other big story would break and take them all away.
Jimmy Anderson had seen him arrive and hurried over to the police station to join him.
“So what’s the latest?” asked Hamish.
“Shona was struck down with a tyre iron. Dumped in the boat. Pushed out to sea.”
“And no one saw anything?”
“Oh, they all saw something or heard something, but that was because of the bloody television cameras. Even those Currie sisters were wearing make-up and inventing things like mad.”
“How do you know they were inventing things?”
“I’m apt to discount reports of a tall black man with a scar.”
“Oh, dear. Still, I’d like to go through them just in case. There might be something there. Any report on the bank balances?”
“Nothing important, fifty pounds here, a couple of hundred there.”
They were standing together outside the police station. Hamish saw Mary Cannon approaching them from the police mobile unit.
“Well, Macbeth, anything to report?”
“No, ma’am. He shopped in Braikie, and then he went to Strathbane and bought books and went back home. But I was in a restaurant in Strathbane and I overheard Dr. Renfrew, who has been having an affair, telling Fiona Fleming that it was all over, and she threatened to make him sorry.”
“Write a report of that and let me have it. Was the professor in this restaurant?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Then what were you doing in the restaurant?”
“It was obvious the professor was going back home, and I was hungry.”
“You were told to follow him, not disobey orders because you were hungry. Get back on it tomorrow. He’s our strongest lead.”
She turned on her heel and walked away. Mary had received a stern warning from Daviot not to get too friendly with Hamish, due to a spiteful report from Blair.
“Michty me!” said Hamish. “Didn’t anyone ask the professor what he was doing when Shona was getting bashed on the head?”
“I did. Got him up at dawn. Was he furious! Said he was in his bed fast asleep. No alibi, as he lives alone. Same with the rest of them.”
“It’s getting late and I’m tired,” said Hamish. “I am not going to hang around here, or she’ll find something to keep me up all night.”
¦
“Now what?” asked the manager of the Tommel Castle Hotel when Hamish arrived carrying an overnight bag and followed by his cat and dog.
“I really need a quiet night,” pleaded Hamish, “and I’m not going to get it if I stay at the police station.”
“Oh, all right. I can let you have a spare room, but that’s all you get. Leave the minibar alone, and breakfast is not included in this non-paying visit.”
¦
Elspeth was sitting in the bar with Luke when she saw Hamish arrive and then follow Mr. Johnson up the stairs.
“Back in a minute,” she said to Luke. He barely heard her. He was surrounded by other reporters, and all were busy making up legends about each other. Luke had not repeated his proposal of marriage, and Elspeth assumed he had proffered it because he wanted to tease Hamish. He made a few desultory tries to make love to her which she always rebuffed.
Hamish was just unpacking his bag when Elspeth knocked on his door.
“Oh, it’s you,” he said bleakly. “I was just going to bed. What do you want?”
“I want to talk about the murders.”
“Look, I’ve got a dragon of a police inspector on my back, and I can’t talk to the press.”
“I wanted to talk as friends.”
Hamish looked down at the small figure of Elspeth. She was casually dressed in a white Aran sweater, jeans, and smart black leather boots. Her odd silver eyes studied his face.
“All right,” said Hamish, suddenly remembering how useful Elspeth’s intuition had been in the past. “I can’t offer you a drink because the room’s free and I’ve been told not to touch the minibar.”
“Fine. I see Lugs and Sonsie have made themselves comfortable on the bed. I hope there’s room for you.”
“I’ll just push them to one side.”
There were two easy chairs in front of the window. They both sat down.
“Go ahead,” said Elspeth. “It’s all off the record.”
“Not a word to Luke!”
“Promise.”
Hamish outlined everything he knew. When he finished, Elspeth sat very still. Then she said, “Wouldn’t it be odd if we had two murderers here?”
“How do you mean?”
“Say Professor Sander did pinch that student’s work. He’s a very vain man. I can see him following Mrs. Gillespie down his drive, and overcome with rage, braining her with her bucket. Or Fiona Fleming might really have pushed her husband down the stairs, although I doubt it, and decided to get rid of Mrs. Gillespie once and for all.”
“But what about Shona Fraser?”
“Ah, I’m coming to that. Before she came up here, Shona Fraser worked in London for Trant TV. She worked as a researcher. Now, Trant TV specialises in reality television – you know, fly-on-the wall documentaries, exposures of famous people. They did a scam with that soap actress Bernice James. One of their reporters pretended to be a drug dealer and went to her hotel room to supply her with coke. They had a hidden camera and got her snorting coke on film. What if Shona had found out something about someone during her researches and
