wrong colour.”
Happy to have an excuse to return to Arrat House, Priscilla went out into the hall. Melissa followed her, with Paul close behind. “Could you smuggle us out past the press in your car?” asked Melissa.
“It might upset the police,” said Priscilla. “They’ll probably want to interview you all over again.”
“Just for a short time,” begged Melissa. “I feel I’ll go mad if I don’t get out of here. Paul, too.” Paul blinked at Priscilla myopically. Melissa was now feeling quite motherly and protective towards Paul. He had apologized to her that morning for his behaviour. He had begged her to help him get through this ordeal.
What would Hamish expect her to do? wondered Priscilla. Perhaps she might gain some useful information from Melissa and Paul.
She made up her mind. “All right, then. But you’d both better crouch down in the back seat until I get past the press. Where do you want to go?”
“There’s a little cafe-restaurant in the village,” said Melissa eagerly. She saw Enrico hovering in the shadows of the hall and lowered her voice. “Where is your car?”
“It’s a white Volvo, round the right-hand side of the house,” whispered Priscilla.
“We’ll go out the back way and meet you,” said Melissa urgently.
Soon Priscilla was driving carefully down to the village, with Melissa and Paul crouched down under travelling rugs in the back seat.
“Here we are,” she called over her shoulder as she parked outside the cafe. “Won’t the gentlemen of the press find you?”
“Not in a cafe,” said Melissa, popping up from under the rug. “They all go to The Crofter, the pub further along.”
“I’ll go and get Betty’s wool,” said Priscilla, “and then I’ll join you both.”
“Nice girl,” said Melissa as she entered the cafe with Paul.
“Yes,” agreed Paul, “and very beautiful.”
Melissa did not like that comment much. “Now, Paul,” she began, after they had ordered cups of coffee, “you must try to pull yourself together. The killing of Titchy can have nothing to do with you or me. We’ve only got to survive another day or two of questioning and then they’ll need to let us go.”
He drew patterns on top of the wax table-cloth with the edge of his teaspoon. “What if Mother did it?” he said.
Melissa took a deep breath. She privately thought Jan was capable of murder, but she said, “Of course she didn’t do it! Why should she? You know, Paul, your mother is quite capable of looking after herself. I wouldn’t run mad and give her all your money, but certainly enough to make her independent. I know: Tell her to go off on a cruise. That way you would be free of her for a bit and get a chance to settle down.”
Paul blinked at her mistily and took her hand. “That’s what I like about you, Melissa, your strength.”
Melissa gently disengaged her hand. She knew she was not a strong person. A strong person was like Hamish Macbeth. She wondered what it would be like to be a policeman’s wife. She wondered why he had never married. She dimly realized Paul was speaking.
“I’ve always been dominated by Mother, Melissa, and the time has come to really break free. I can’t do it right away while she’s upset over this break-up with Jeffrey. But once she’s settled, I’ll see less of her. That cruise is a good idea.”
They were joined by Priscilla. “I managed to get that wool,” she said cheerfully. “I’ll need to take you back soon or Blair will start howling and cursing.”
“Do you know Detective Chief Inspector Blair?” asked Melissa.
“Yes, I have met him. We had a murder in Lochdubh last year.”
“Lochdubh? Oh, you must know Hamish.”
A slight tinge of frost crept into Priscilla’s eyes. “Yes, he is a friend of mine.”
“Oh.” Melissa looked at her doubtfully and then her face cleared. Beautiful rich girls like Priscilla did not have anything to do with village constables. “Ready to go?” asked Priscilla, who had suddenly decided that it would be a waste of time to keep them out longer by interrogating them.
She drove back to Arrat House thinking perhaps it was as well Hamish was off the case. Melissa was a nice little thing, but too silly and susceptible. She parked the car at the side of the house. Melissa and Paul climbed out. And then ambling around the side of the house came Hamish Macbeth. Melissa let out a glad cry and ran straight into his arms, babbling about the second murder and about how frightened she had been, but now that he was back everything was all right, while Priscilla and Paul looked bleakly on.
Hamish disengaged himself quickly. “You’d best get indoors, Melissa, before Blair finds you were out of the house. A word with you, Priscilla.”
Melissa stood and stared as Hamish and Priscilla walked off together. They were both tall and looked at ease with each other.
“Have you been flirting with Melissa?” Priscilla was asking.
“I wass chust being my usual charming self,” said Hamish. “I am back on the case. The rest are having lunch but I wanted a bit of fresh air.”
“Where is Towser?”
“Being looked after by Mrs Wellington. Priscilla, there’s been another murder, and right under the noses of the police, too. I’ve mair to worry about than one spoilt mongrel. What did you find out?”
“Not much. Betty asked me to pick up some wool for her from the village and Melissa and Paul begged a lift. It’s a difficult business. There they all were and one of them a possible murderer. But with the atmosphere of Arrat House and the horrible furnishings, anyone looks like a murderer. Enrico is creepy. He hangs about listening, have you noticed? Paul Sinclair is a drip, in my opinion. He seems, at a guess, to be using that Melissa to try to get free from his mother. Hamish! I’ve suddenly thought, who was Mr Sinclair? I mean, who was Paul’s father? There might be insanity in the family, something like that.”
“There’s a point,” said Hamish. “The rain’s started again. We’re getting awfy wet, Priscilla.”
“There’s a summer-house thing over by the woods. We’ll go there.”
They walked into a rather damp and dilapidated summer house and sat down together. “I was reading an article about genes and heredity,” said Priscilla.
“That’s all verra well,” put in Hamish, “but I’ve never noticed murder running in families.”
“No, but insanity does.”
“Maybe,” he said slowly. “I’ll ask Anderson. He’s been ferreting into everyone’s past.”
“I can do it easier than that,” said Priscilla eagerly. “I’ll just ask Paul.”
“What? If his father was bonkers?”
“No, silly. I’ll ask if his father is still alive, and if so, where, and if not, what did he die of.”
He gave her a slow smile. “My, my,” he mocked. “Quite the detective. And here’s me thinking you didnae want tae come to Arrat House.”
“I found I had less work at the hotel than I thought,” said Priscilla primly.
Hamish clasped his hands behind his head and looked meditatively at the ceiling. “Aye,” he said dreamily, “that Melissa iss a nice wee lassie.”
“Hamish Macbeth. Unless you are seriously interested, leave her alone. She’s upset, young and far from home, and highly susceptible.”
Hamish grinned. “I wass only teasing,” he said, but Priscilla had already risen to her feet. “One of us had better do some work,” she said sharply, and walked out of the summer house.
Melissa, watching from the drawing room window, saw her approach, saw the long easy strides, the immaculate hair, the well-worn but well-cut tweeds, the air of assurance and clasped her arms about her body and shivered. It was always the same. She would find some man to dream about, some man to hope for, and then just when she began to imagine she had a chance, some female appeared over the horizon and took the man away. She gave a little sigh. The Melissas of this world always had to settle for second best. “Don’t look so gloomy,” came Paul’s voice from behind her. “We’ll soon be out of this nightmare.”
The drawing room door opened and Priscilla came in, holding the parcel of wool she had bought for Betty. “Where is everyone?” she asked.
“They’re all in the dining room,” said Melissa. “Neither of us felt like eating anything.”
“I’ll go and give this to, Betty,” said Priscilla. She hesitated in the doorway. “Is your father still alive?” she
