“You are a bunch of silly hens,” said Hamish. “And what about this film the minister’s wife is doing?”
“Oh, that was fun for a while,” said Edie, lying back against the sofa in a jaded, sophisticated way. “But we can’t be caught up in the wee woman’s amateur dramatics every day of the week.”
“You’re making a big mistake there,” said Hamish. “Oh, me and my big mouth!”
Edie sat up straight. “What do you know?”
Hamish smiled at her ruefully and then shrugged. “Oh, well, then I’ll tell ye, Edie, but it’s to be a secret, chust between the two of us. Promise you won’t breathe a word!”
“I promise. Would you like a dram?”
“No, it’s too early and I’m driving.” He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “As part of this murder case, I haff been checking up on the backgrounds of everyone.”
“I heard you were off it,” said Edie.
“This was afore,” said Hamish huffily. “Do you want to hear this or not?”
“Yes, yes, go on.”
Hamish took a slow sip of tea while Edie waited eagerly.
“In the background of the minister’s wife…”
“I knew it! I knew it!” said Edie, her pale eyes shining behind her glasses. “Scandal!”
“No, nothing like that,” said Hamish sternly, “and I won’t be telling you, Edie, if you keep interrupting.”
“Go on.”
“That play of hers, when she was a lassie, was performed at the university and got rave reviews. She was approached by a major film company. They wanted to buy the rights.”
“Oh, my. What did she do?”
“Her parents were Calvinists and against the movies. They made her turn it down. But I happen to know – if you tell any one this, I’ll kill ye!”
“No, no. Go on. Have a biscuit.”
Hamish selected a foilwrapped Penguin chocolate biscuit and began to peel off the wrapping with maddening slowness. Then he took a bite and looked at Edie solemnly.
“I happen to know that Eileen Jessop is sending her film off tae Hollywood to some big producer. It’s a deadly secret. She hasnae even told her husband.”
He smiled sweetly at Edie’s astonished face. He finished his biscuit and drained his cup and stood up.
“But if you get any more attacks from the locals, Edie, you should tell me.”
“Oh, I will, Hamish. And I won’t breathe a word.”
Hamish turned in the doorway. “See that you don’t.”
¦
Edie’s next visitor was Holly Andrews.
“We put Eileen Jessop in her place,” said Holly. “It’s a bit vain, don’t you think, Edie, her wanting us to take time off from our homes to act in her wee bittie film when we could all be stars.”
“We’re all thinking this television thing is going to be shown,” said Edie. “But there’s a jinx on it already. One of the camera crew said they were getting worried on BBC Scotland that it might be tasteless to show it at all in view of the deaths. I think we were all a bit hard on Eileen. Come to think of it, I think my part could do with more work. I’m going up to Eileen’s to say I’ll be available for more filming.”
Holly was jealous of Eileen’s friendship with Ailsa. “She puts on airs because she’s the minister’s wife, but I tell you this, Edie, if she shows that tosh she’s filmed outside of Drim, we’ll be a laughing stock.”
Edie leaned forward, her face intense in the gloom of her living room. “If I tell you something, Holly, something about Eileen, will you promise not to breathe a word?”
“I’m a clam. You know me. I wouldn’t say a word to a soul.”
Holly’s eyes grew rounder and rounder as Edie repeated what she had heard from Hamish Macbeth.
“So you’re not to say anything, mind!” cautioned Edie as Holly made her way out.
¦
Colin Jessop had gone off to Inverness, and Eileen was alone that evening. She felt depressed and let down.
She walked to the manse window and looked down the drive. And then she saw the village women, done up in their best, walking up the drive, happy and chattering, headed by Edie Aubrey.
She went and opened the door. “We’ve just been thinking,” said Edie excitedly, “that it would do no harm to let you film a bit more.”
“If you really want to,” said Eileen, surprised.
There was a chorus of ‘Yes, yes,’ as they all crowded into the manse.
Eileen smiled with relief and went to get her camera.
A busy and energetic evening was spent, busy because, not being able to build sets, Eileen had used the interiors of several of the older cottages, so they moved from house to house. Eileen returned to the manse with Ailsa.
“How marvellous they all were,” said Eileen. “So enthusiastic and everyone acting so well. I could hardly believe it.”
Ailsa grinned. “You’ve Hamish Macbeth to thank for that. Man, he must be the best liar in the Highlands, and that’s saying something.”
“What do you mean?”
“I didn’t let on, Eileen, but Hamish told Edie Aubrey that when your play was put on at the university it got rave reviews and you were approached by a major film company, but that your parents were Calvinists and against the movies and wouldn’t let you sign the contract, but now you were going to send this film off to Hollywood.”
“They never believed such a load of rubbish!”
“‘Course they did. Macbeth told Edie he would kill her if she told anyone.”
“This is awful. We must put them right.”
“Why? You’re having fun, aren’t you?”
“But you didn’t believe it. Why?”
“Because we’re friends and you would have told me.”
Eileen grinned. “‘I’ve a bottle of champagne someone gave me two Christmases ago at the bottom of my wardrobe. We’ll open it now.”
She longed to tell Ailsa what Sheila had said, but Sheila had told her not to tell anyone. Eileen only hoped Ailsa would not be angry when, if, she ever found out.
¦
Sunday arrived in Lochdubh, wet and misty and warm, “a great day for the midges,” as the locals described the weather.
It was as if the whole Highland world had ground to a halt. It was hard to think that only recently the village had been crowded with pressmen looking for rooms.
Hamish Macbeth, as he went about his domestic chores, thought how easy it would be to let all thoughts of the murder go. Leave it to Lovelace.
And yet, he had not been able to find that tramp Scan Fitz.
Hamish had given up waiting for Sheila to phone and give him some explanation of why she had not turned up at the restaurant.
He decided to drive out and try once more to find Scan. He remembered two years ago, when he was out on his rounds, seeing the shambling figure of the tramp trudging along some road or other.
He began his search again. It was only after a morning of fruitless hunting that he remembered the tramp was religious, a Roman Catholic. He began to check Catholic church after Catholic church, until at Dornoch he found that Scan had been sighted at mass the evening before.
Hamish had some mad hope that if he found the tramp, that if Patricia had been seen somewhere far from the scene of the murder and could therefore be cleared, she would recover her memory.
The frustrating thing was that Scan could be cosily ensconced in some croft somewhere, drinking tea, while he drove past on the road outside. By three in the afternoon, he realised he had not eaten and was hungry.
Finding himself in the main street of Golspie, he went into a cafe and ordered a sausage roll and beans and a pot of strong tea.
