up. “Why has my best frying-pan got a dunt in it?”
“Because I hit Dolan on the head with it.”
“Police brutality, that’s what it is,” whined Dolan.
“My best frying-pan,” screeched Miss Tabbet. “And what are you doing with that kettle?”
“You can put in a bill for the frying-pan if you like,” said Hamish coolly. “And as I have chust saved you from being robbed, you can allow me one cup of coffee.” His voice was quiet, but something in it made Miss Tabbet blink rapidly and retreat. To Hamish’s relief, he heard her going back upstairs. He made himself a cup of instant coffee and took it through to the living-room and waited patiently until a police van arrived from Strathbane and took Dolan away. It was six in the morning. He should really wake the schoolteacher again and ask her to lock up after he went but he could not bear any more of her grumbling, and besides, the burglar had been caught. He took a childish delight in leaving his unwashed coffee-cup on the living-room table. He went out into the light of a sunny morning, climbed into the Land Rover, and with a feeling of gladness, of release, set off for Lochdubh.
¦
After filing his report he slept most of the day and then awoke and phoned Priscilla. Sophy answered the phone and said she would find her. After quite a long time she came back and said in an amused voice that Priscilla had said she was out. “And what’s she miffed about?” asked Hamish.
“Some biddy reported we were seen kissing outside the craft shop in Cairask,” said Sophy gleefully.
“I hope you told Priscilla there was nothing in that,” said Hamish sharply.
“Oh, sure. But she wasn’t inclined to listen to me.”
“I’ll be right up.” Hamish slammed down the phone, cursing Sophy under his breath.
He could feel his engagement, unofficial though it still was, falling apart. He no longer knew what he wanted. Why had Priscilla turned into such a managing female? Why couldn’t she have left him alone? He suddenly wondered if she would ever change. Would she clatter around the police station in Lochdubh eternally unforgiving when she finally realized he had no intention of leaving the village? Why couldn’t people realize it was a rare gift to be happy with one’s lot? Although this particular policeman’s lot at the present moment, and thanks to Priscilla and Sophy, was not a happy one.
When he got to the hotel, Sophy said happily she would fetch Priscilla while Hamish paced up and down the reception. When Priscilla and Sophy walked in, Sophy went back behind the reception desk and leaned on it.
“Yes, Hamish?” asked Priscilla frostily.
He gathered her in his arms and she suddenly gave a little sigh and leaned against him. Sophy watched wide-eyed as Hamish, with his arm about Priscilla’s shoulders, led her outside.
“Now what’s all this?” asked Hamish gently.
“I couldn’t help remembering your reputation as a philanderer,” said Priscilla in a low voice.
“Look, you must know that Sophy found out that I was at Carrask and followed me over. We went for tea and then she kissed my cheek on leaving. That was all. But I couldnae help remembering the days when you yourself would have come over to see me.”
“I’ve been pretty bad, haven’t I, Hamish? Forget about promotion and houses in Strathbane. I’m sure we’ll be happy enough in the Lochdubh police station.”
“Come back with me now,” urged Hamish. “We never have any proper time together.”
For one awful moment, she hesitated and then she nodded her fair head.
Hamish’s excitement rose as he approached the police station, with Priscilla following in her own car. This was it, at last! Were there clean sheets on the bed? Damn, he needed a bath. He hadn’t had any supper and his stomach grumbled and rumbled. But food could wait.
Once inside the police station, he brushed aside Priscilla’s suggestion that they should have a cup of coffee and gathered her firmly in his arms. The time had come for action. He swept her up to carry her to the bedroom but she was a tall girl and her feet got jammed in the kitchen door.
“Put me down,” laughed Priscilla. “I can walk.”
Hamish put her down and just as he did so, the bell at the front police-station door rang shrilly and urgently.
They both looked at each other. The locals all used the back door. Only strangers rang the bell at the front…
“It’ll only take a minute,” said Hamish breathlessly. “Probably one o’ thae tourists lost something up on the moors.”
The wind was buffeting the police station and the blue lamp outside was swinging wildly as he opened the door. He dropped his gaze.
The small figure of Heather Baxter stood on the doorstep.
In her lilting Highland accent, she said, “I haff come to report a murder.”
? Death of a Charming Man ?
5
No, no, he as dead;
Go to thy death-bed,
He will never come again.
—William Shakespeare
“Come in,” said Hamish quietly. He took Heather’s cold, damp hand and led her through to the kitchen. “Hot, sweet tea,” he said to Priscilla.
He pushed Heather into a chair and crouched down in front of her. “Who’s been murdered?”
“Thon Sassenach, Peter Hynd.”
“How wass he killed?”
She shook her head dumbly.
“Where wass the body found?”
“It has not been found.”
Hamish straightened up and sat down next to her. “Then how do you know he has been murdered?”
She looked at him with those odd grey eyes and then she pointed to her head. “I saw it in here,” she whispered. “They all say he’s gone. He left a note. His things are gone. But I know he’s been murdered. I feel him around the village.”
Hamish took a mug of tea from Priscilla and handed it to Heather. “Drink this,” he urged. “How did you get here?”
“I drove in my faither’s truck. I tied blocks on my feet and drove. He’s drunk asleep. He did not go to the fishing.”
“You’ve had a hard time at home recently, Heather,” said Hamish, “and maybe that’s what’s been putting these thoughts in your head.” She shook that head stubbornly. “This is what we’ll do. I won’t be booking you for driving without a licence. That will be our secret. But neffer do such a thing again. Then I will drive you back in the truck and Priscilla here will follow us. She’ll bring me back and then I’ll return in the morning and start asking questions.”
Heather looked up at Priscilla and a strangely feminine look for one of her tender years crossed her face. Her grey eyes slanted at Hamish. “I don’t want her.”
“Then how am I to get back?”
“I’ll drive myself,” said Heather. “I’ve already broken the law driving here. One more time won’t matter.”
Hamish sighed. “I’d better get her back, Priscilla.”
“That’s all right, Hamish,” said Priscilla, making for the door. “See you tomorrow.”
“I won’t be long,” said Hamish defiantly, “Won’t you wait?”
“Tomorrow,” said Priscilla firmly.
Hamish felt a sudden flash of murderous anger. She was going to be a policeman’s wife. This was a fine start! But he waited patiently until Heather had finished her tea. “Where’s the truck?” he asked.
“It is outside at the side of the station.”
“Come along then. I’ll follow you.”
