something he had missed.
His eyes fell on the statement he had taken from Timmy Teviot. The man hadn’t been lying about the poachers, but there had been something else he hadn’t been saying. There had been something at the back of his eyes, and Hamish was suddenly sure he knew about the brothel.
Timmy wouldn’t be working today. The road right round the loch wouldn’t be cleared yet, but he decided to put his skis on and call on Timmy.
The phone rang. It was Lesley. “Hamish, I am very sorry…,” she was beginning.
“Talk to you later,” said Hamish. “Got to rush,” and put the phone down.
The phone immediately rang again.
“I told you…,” Hamish was beginning when Elspeth’s voice came down the line.
“It’s me, Elspeth. Hamish, while Perry was writing his piece, I’ve been thinking and thinking about the murders. The one thing that seems to tie them all together is sex.”
“Sex!”
“Think about it.”
? Death of a Witch ?
10
– John Masefield
After a long and weary trudge round the loch, Hamish was irritated to be told that Timmy had gone to the pub in Lochdubh.
The ground round the loch was flat, so there were no slopes to ski down. He wished he had worn his snowshoes instead. The sun was glittering blindingly on the snow. Lochdubh looked like a Christmas card, but, that morning, he was in no mood to admire it. When he reached the cleared waterfront, he took off his skis, carried them to the police station, and propped them against the wall. Then he made his way to the pub.
He went straight up to Timmy, who was propping up the bar. “You,” said Hamish curtly. “Follow me to the station.”
To Timmy’s nervous demands of “What’s up? What have I done?” Hamish only replied, “In the station.”
When they were settled in the office, Hamish began. “You’ve been holding out on me, Timmy.”
“Me? Man, I tellt ye about them poachers.”
“So you did. But you didn’t tell me you knew about Fiona McNulty.”
There was something like relief at the back of Timmy’s eyes. “Oh, well, I didn’t want to go getting any of the men in the village into trouble.”
“Like Fergus?”
“Aye, he was the only one I knew about.”
“And how did you know about him?”
“We got drinking one night and he tellt me.”
Hamish’s eyes sharpened. “There’s something else he told you that you aren’t letting on. Out with it, Timmy, or I’ll take you down to Strathbane and let Blair deal with you.”
“I cannae go betraying the man’s confidence.”
“Then we’re off to see Blair.”
“Och, anything but that. But you didnae hear it from me!”
“Out with it.”
“I cannae think it’s got anything to do wi’ the murder o’ his poor wife.”
“Spit it out.”
“It sounds right daft now. But she used to beat him.”
“Ina? That wee woman?”
“Fact. He had a sore dunt tae the head and he was saying it happened at work, but when he’d had a few jars, he says tae me that Ina hit him wi’ the frying pan.”
“Why did she do that?” asked Hamish.
“She’d learned from one o’ the women that he’d been seen one night up at the witch’s place.”
“You should ha’ told me this before. Off with you, Timmy. I may be talking to you later.”
Hamish phoned Jimmy. “I thought you were supposed to be on holiday,” said Jimmy. “I am. Is Fergus out?”
“Yes, he’s at home.”
“Thanks.”
“Hamish, if you know anything…”
“I’ll let you know. Talk to you later.”
¦
Hamish walked up to Fergus’s home and knocked at the door. Fergus answered. “Not again,” he said. “I’m no’ going back tae Strathbane.”
“Just a wee chat,” said Hamish.
“Come ben.”
Hamish edged his way around bulging rubbish sacks on the front step. “Been cleaning?” he asked.
“Aye. When I came back and saw the mess I’d been living in, I couldnae bear the sight of it. Poor Ina would ha’ gone mad.”
Hamish took off his cap and sat down. “Fergus, did Ina beat you?”
“What a thing to say and her not cold in her grave!”
“Fergus. You’ve got into trouble by not telling the truth. Out with it.”
“Well, maybe,” Fergus mumbled.
“You were seen going to Catriona Beldame’s.”
“Och, that was silly. She gave me this stuff and all it did was make my balls itch.”
“And Ina found out you’d been there?”
“Yes, someone told her.”
“And what did she do?”
“She hit me with the frying pan.”
“And was she in the habit of hitting you?”
Fergus hung his head. Then he burst out with: “What could I do, Hamish? I couldnae hit a woman. I couldnae talk about it. Me, a big man being hit by a wee woman? The shame o’ it.”
“What about Fiona McNulty. Did Ina know about her?”
“Maybe.”
“What maybe?”
“The day she was murdered, she left a note for me.”
“Fergus. For God’s sake, man. The things you’ve been keeping from me. Have you got the note?”
“No, I burnt it.”
“What did it say?”
“It said something like, “I know what you’ve been up to and you’re for it.””
“I got the idea you were relieved when she was killed.”
“I was that. I’m free at last. That’s what I thought. But you know what it’s like. You read about old lags who feel so strange and lost when they’re let out of prison after a long sentence that they can’t wait to get in again. I don’t seem to have thought for myself or acted for myself for a long time.”
“But you went to Fiona.”
Fergus looked at Hamish with pleading eyes. “Fiona wasnae really a hoor. She just did a bit on the side for some fellows. She was warm and nice. Hamish, you may as well have the lot. I hadn’t had any sex since my honeymoon. When we got back, herself says, “I’m not having any more of that nastiness.””
“You had grounds for a divorce.”
“This is Lochdubh, Hamish. I’m not the only one.”
