one out o’ the kitchen,” he said, “and we’ll take them both in.”
Protesting loudly that it was all above-board and innocent, Rogers and the man from the kitchen were marched round and into the front door of the retirement home, where Hamish demanded to see whoever was in charge. A tired-looking man in a crumpled suit ushered them all into an office off the hall. He introduced himself as a Mr Dougald and said the home was run by a charity, Aid for the Senior Citizen.
“So what’s Jamie been up to?” he asked wearily.
“Is this Jamie?” asked Hamish, nodding in the direction of the man from the kitchen.
“Aye, Jamie Sinclair.”
“He’s been selling your stores to Mr Rogers here. Mr Rogers owns a boarding-house in Skag. He’s been selling off meat which is well past its sell-by date. I hope it’s old stores and you arenae giving the residents meat like that.”
“No, we are not. We get our supplies from reputable shops in Dungarton. This is what comes of employing ex-cons. I told the charity I didn’t want Sinclair, but they said everyone needed a break.”
“What’s Sinclair’s form?”
“Fraud, petty larceny, shop-lifting, handbag snatching, you name it.”
Hamish settled down to question the now thoroughly cowed Sinclair. The housekeeper regularly checked the supplies in the fridges and freezers, and so the stuff he had collected for Rogers lay in a cupboard in the kitchen until the boarding-house owner came to collect it. Hamish charged Sinclair and Rogers with conspiracy to defraud the retirement home, told Maggie to take Sinclair out to the car, but curtly ordered Rogers to stay where he was. He turned to Mr Dougald. “Can I use your office for a minute? I want to ask Mr Rogers a few questions before I take him to the station.”
“Go ahead. This is a bad business. But it’ll teach all those do-gooders on the board to send me someone decent next time.”
When they had all gone out, Hamish faced a truculent Rogers. “Now, the police at Skag will handle the charge, but I’m more interested in something else. You saw Harris on the day he was murdered.”
Rogers stared at him mulishly. “I did not. Who says I did?”
“Some tart called Mandy at that brothel.”
Rogers, who had been standing, rocking on his heels, sat down suddenly, as if his legs had given way. “No comment,” he mumbled.
“Och, well, maybe Mrs Rogers will have a few comments.”
“You wouldnae!”
“Try me.”
Rogers twisted his large beefy hands, one in the other, as if wringing an imaginary person’s neck.
“All right,” he said after a silence. “I saw him heading for the jetty. He was stopped by Dermott Brett, who was shouting at him. I couldnae hear the words.”
“When was this?”
“Around three.”
Hamish looked at him sharply. “And why didn’t Mr Brett tell the police this?”
Rogers stared at the ceiling. “I don’t know.”
“And why didn’t you?”
Rogers stared at his feet.
“All right. Out to the car wi’ you.”
Hamish left Maggie to explain the arrest of Sinclair and Rogers to Deacon. He borrowed Maggie’s car and drove to the boarding-house. He wanted to question Dermott himself before the police came for him.
It was late afternoon but the wind had died and the sun was shining brightly. He saw ahead of him Dermott, June and the children on the beach. Dermott was helping the children build a sand castle and June was laughing at their efforts. They looked a carefree family party. He went up to them and said to Dermott quietly, “Walk away with me a little. I haff to talk to you afore the police arrive.”
Dermott put down the bucket-full of sand he had been holding and got slowly to his feet. He and Hamish walked away down the beach together beside the glittering waves of the incoming tide. Hamish glanced back. June was staring after them, her face pinched and anxious.
“I arrested Rogers,” began Hamish.
“Why?” A look of wild hope came into Dermott’s eyes.
“Because of the rotten food. He’d been buying the leftovers from an old folks’ home in Dungarton. But that’s not why I want to talk to you. Rogers saw you arguing with Harris around the time of the murder.”
“Oh, that.”
“So out with it. Why didn’t you say so in your statement?”
“I was worried. It would look bad for me. I panicked. I was trying to keep my name out of the papers. I thought if I told them, then a report would go out saying I was being detained to help the police with their inquiries and then my wife would have found out. As it was – you heard?” Hamish nodded. “As it was, she found out anyway. She had always threatened to kill herself if I left her. And then she arrives, spitting venom. She’d read all about June and me being Mr and Mrs Brett in the papers, and she said she was going to divorce me. Just like that! All those years of covering up need never have happened!” He shook his head in bewilderment. “I thought I was out of the wood. But…”
Hamish said quietly, “But Rogers was blackmailing you.”
“Did he say so?”
Hamish shook his head. “He was blackmailing you over having been in Skag, over having had a row with Harris before he was murdered.”
“He wasn’t asking much,” mumbled Dermott, hanging his head. “Just a couple of hundred. I thought I’d keep him quiet until this was over. Now it looks worse for me.”
“How did you pay Rogers?”
“I didn’t. I was going to pay him today.”
Hamish groaned. “I wish you’d given him a cheque. There’d be some proof then. It’s his word against yours. Did you murder Harris?”
“I wanted to, but I didn’t. He was hinting as how he’d let my wife know about me and June. I panicked. I followed him into Skag and threatened to punch him if he said anything. Rogers saw us. The minute he had the news of Harris’s murder, he said he would tell the police I had been arguing with Harris. As I said, I panicked and promised to pay him.”
Hamish looked sadly across the beach. Two policemen were heading towards them.
“They’ve come for you,” he said. “Take my advice and tell them everything. You’ve no proof o’ blackmail, but now they know Rogers has been lying and cheating, they’ll be inclined to believe you.”
Dermott walked off with the policemen. Hamish went up to June and, taking her a little away from the children, told her what had happened. “We were mad to come back here,” said June bitterly. “It was different last year. The food was good and the weather was perfect and the children loved it. What happens now?”
“Provided Dermott tells them the truth and they believe him, he’ll probably be back this evening. But you must tell the truth as well, June. Where were you?”
“I was where I said I was, on the beach with the children. The only difference was Dermott wasn’t here. He said he’d thought Harris had gone into Skag and he was going to shut his mouth.” High colour flared in her face. “All he meant,” she added quickly, “was that he was going to threaten to punch him.”
“Try to keep the children happy,” said Hamish. “Little Heather’s looking a bit strained.”
“She’ll be all right,” said June. “This is getting us all down. Who did it, Hamish?”
“I don’t know.”
“Damn whoever it is to hell,” said June savagely. “I hated Harris, but this murder is causing such worry and misery, I wish the man was still alive.”
“It’s about tea-time. I wonder if there’ll be any.” Hamish looked at his watch. June called the children. Hamish swung the youngest up on to his shoulders and together they all set off in the direction of the boarding- house, their shadows stretching out in front of them, long and pencil-thin. There was a faint hint of coldness in the air, reminding Hamish that any Scottish summer was of short duration and frost could set in before the end of August.
