off to Lochdubh today.”
“I suppose so.”
“When?”
“I don’t know when,” said Hamish testily. “Does it matter?”
Clay put his head round the door. “The press are arriving.”
Hamish leaned back in his chair and smiled. “Giving a press conference, sir?”
“Aye, well, I called one,” said Deacon gruffly. “If you’d like to give me a list of your expenses, I’ll see they go through.”
“I have them right here,” said Hamish, handing them over.
“Goodbye then,” Deacon stood up.
Hamish remained sitting. “Och, I think I might as well stay for that press conference of yours.”
“Off with you, Clay,” snapped Deacon. Clay withdrew his head and closed the door.
Deacon sat down again and pulled open a desk drawer and took out an envelope. “Since your holiday was spoiled working for me, Macbeth, I thought the enclosed might compensate you.”
Hamish opened the envelope. Inside it were four fifty-pound bank notes. How dare you bribe a police officer? was his first thought, followed by the more pragmatic one that a bribe from a superior to an inferior could really hardly be called a bribe…could it?
He stuffed the envelope in his trousers pocket and stood up. “I’ll be off then, sir.”
Deacon smiled his relief.
“Call in and see us any time, Macbeth.”
When Hamish had left, Deacon went to a small mirror in the corner, carefully brushed his hair, straightened his tie, and then went off to tell the press how he had solved the murders.
¦
Hamish returned to the boarding-house. They were gathered in the lounge. Andrew appeared to be advising Tracey on how to go about claiming her legacy. Tracey looked elated. The others appeared relaxed and relieved. Poor Miss Gunnery! No one to mourn her, thought Hamish, and then wondered why he should even think such a thing. Miss Gunnery had taken two lives, and had escaped both a lingering death and the full weight of the law.
“I suppose we’re all going home,” said Hamish.
“Oh, yes,” began Doris eagerly.
“Don’t interrupt me, Doris,” said Andrew severely. “I have just been telling Tracey here it is important that she does not tell either Cheryl or her family of her legacy. Doris and I will take her south with us to Cheltenham and find her a lawyer. You may repay us when you get your legacy, Tracey. Just write to your family saying we have invited you to go with us on an extended holiday.”
“Oh, aye, Ah’ll do that,” said Tracey eagerly.
Hamish looked curiously at Doris’s face, which when Andrew had admonished her had momentarily had that closed look it had worn when her late husband had been nagging her.
Heather was playing quietly with her brother and sister in the corner. She looked recovered from her ordeal. Hamish felt very weary and grubby.
He excused himself and went upstairs and had a bath and changed. He took himself off to Dungarton for dinner, not wanting to go to the dining room and sit opposite Miss Gunnery’s empty chair.
He noticed when he drove back that it was once more dark at night in the north of Scotland. As he approached Skag, he saw a couple with their arms wrapped about each other walking by the side of the road. His headlamps picked them out – Deacon and Maggie, walking as close as lovers. Well, I never! he thought crossly. That one’s determined to get promotion any way she can!
He parked the police Land Rover outside. He wondered if the others had left. He himself would have one more night’s sleep at The Friendly House. He switched off the engine and climbed out.
And then he heard barking from the beach. His heart gave a jolt. The barking sounded like Towser’s. He turned and ran towards the beach, stumbling over the dunes towards the sound of that joyful barking.
He could make out the dim shape of a large mongrel running along by the edge of the curling waves.
“Towser!” he shouted.
And then there was nothing there, nothing at all but the waves curling in the moonlight, the hissing sand, and the empty beach.
He walked slowly back, realizing he was so very tired, he must have been hallucinating.
On the other hand, it would be comfortable to think that somewhere there was another world for dead pets where they were happy and that he had briefly had a glimpse of it.
He let himself in and went up the stairs, undressed and plunged gratefully into bed, without even bothering to wash or clean his teeth.
¦
He awoke in the morning to a sunny day, washed and dressed and went down to the dining room.
To his surprise they were all still there. “We all decided it would be best to set off after breakfast,” said Andrew. “Have you got everything packed in the cars, Doris?”
“Yes, dear.”
“So I’ll take Tracey and you follow us.”
“I hope I’ll be all right,” said Doris timidly. “I’ve never driven such a long way on my own before.”
“You’ll be all right,” said Andrew.
After breakfast, they all shook hands and exchanged addresses, just like any normal holiday-makers. Hamish was the first to leave. They stood in a little group outside, waving goodbye to him.
He wondered if he would ever see any of them again.
¦
The hills were ablaze with purple heather as he drove down the heathery track into Lochdubh. Willie, polishing the brass doorknob outside the restaurant, turned and waved. The sun sparkled on the sea loch, the fishing boats rode at anchor, and seagulls sailed overhead against the bluest of skies.
He was home at last and felt he had been away from Lochdubh for years.
He opened up the police station, took the sign off the door which referred all inquiries to Sergeant Macgregor at Cnothan, lit the stove, and began to go about the pressing duties of gardening and tending to his livestock. During the day, villagers called round to stand and chat.
It was only as evening approached that he realized he had not inquired after Priscilla. He was free of that at last and yet he did not know whether to be glad or sorry.
No Towser, no Priscilla, the start of a new chapter in his life.
Dr Brodie and Angela called and took him out for dinner at the Italian restaurant where the servings were back to their normal generous size, the owner having returned from Italy and put an end to Willie Lamont’s parsimony. As Hamish told them about the case, the more faraway and unreal it seemed in his head.
“You’re usually so sharp about people,” said Angela. “I’m surprised you didn’t think there might be something badly wrong in the character of this Miss Gunnery.”
“I’ve often thought about it,” said Hamish. “She seemed that kind, and I was thrown by Towser’s death. She must have been quite mad. I tell you, there’s something weird about Skag – so flat, all those singing sands.” He fell silent. He had been so anxious to leave that he had not even called on old Miss Blane again, as he had promised he would.
“Do you think this Tracey will really reform? What was left to her by Miss Gunnery?”
“I don’t really know,” said Hamish. “Andrew Biggar was going to look into it. A tidy bit, I should guess. Then there would be the flat in Cheltenham. Perhaps, once the euphoria of being home is over, Andrew and Doris will drop her.”
“And do you think Andrew and Doris will live happily ever after?” asked Angela.
“That I don’t know. Doris is one o’ those women who can make men into bullies, not that I’m saying that Harris wasn’t a rat. And how will Doris cope with Andrew’s mother? She’s a big, bossy sort of woman. As long as they don’t live wi’ her, it’ll probably muddle along all right.”
At the end of the meal, he thanked them and walked home. Great stars were burning overhead and there was a cold nip in the air.
