Hamish MacBeth 15 (1999) - Death of an Addict

by M C Beaton

  He flagged down a cab and gave the driver instructions. Hamish looked wistfully out at the night lights of Amsterdam. “I wish we didn’t have to eat in the hotel.”

  “We’d best do as we’re told,” said Olivia. “What a cold night it’s turned out to be.”

  Hamish noticed that her attitude to him had thawed.

  Once in the room, they ordered steaks to be sent up. Olivia switched on the television set and they ate and watched the news. Then watched an American sitcom and drank coffee and there was a friendly atmosphere between them when they both went to bed. Hamish smiled in the darkness. Soon it would all be over. Soon he would be back at his police station.

  ♦

  Rain was drumming down on the car park at Inverness Airport when they arrived. They got into the Mercedes and Hamish set off on the drive back to Strathbane. “So do we just wait out the rest of the week?” he asked.

  “I think we should try to speed things up,” said Olivia. “We’ll go and see Lachie tomorrow and tell him to tell Jimmy that the consignment is on its way.”

  For some reason, Hamish suddenly found his thoughts turning in the direction of Chief Inspector Blair. He wondered if Blair had got wind of what he was up to. He knew Blair hated him.

  “I’ll be glad when this is over,” said Olivia suddenly.

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve got a bad feeling about it. Things have been running a bit too easily, apart from your gaffe in Amsterdam.”

  “I’m sorry about that,” said Hamish ruefully. “I thought I had landed lucky at last. I could even see us married. I would never have believed I could be so naive. If you see any of the prostitutes in Strathbane, well, they’ve practically got labels round their necks screaming prostitute. I meet the girl of my dreams and then she says, ‘Leave the money on the table as you go out.’ ”

  “Pieter did say she was a happy amateur, but she won’t be happy for long.”

  “She told me she was a student.”

  “Student of what?” commented Olivia dryly. “A lot of these silly girls just drift into it. It can start with a simple date with an older man. He gets the wrong end of the stick and pays up. Girl is mortified, then she giggles about it a bit with her friends, and the money comes in handy. Who knows? Maybe Anna was a student, and recently, too. It seems a harmless way of making a bit of money on the side. Some pimp starts to sit up and take notice. He acts as the John, introduces her to dope, gets her hooked and then puts her on the street.”

  “Perhaps she’ll just stop.”

  “I doubt it. Are you so lonely, Hamish, that you should want to marry some girl you had just met?”

  “I suppose I’m a romantic.”

  “You’re in the wrong job. A lot of the men down in Glasgow consider me cold and harsh, but I have found that any sign of softness is taken as a come-on.”

  “I’m glad I’m not a woman,” said Hamish, negotiating a hairpin bend.

  There was a companionable silence and then he said, “I wasn’t making a pass at you in the bed at the Grand. I really wasn’t.”

  “I believe you, but I’ll get us a room with twin beds this time so there will be no…awkwardness.”

  “You were saying you had a bad feeling about this job,” said Hamish. “You know something? I cannae help worrying that too many people at headquarters know about it.”

  “Only the top brass, surely.”

  It’s the top brass I’m worried about, thought Hamish.

  SEVEN

  Our fears do make us traitors.

  —William Shakespeare.

  The following day, Hamish and Olivia held a secret meeting with Chief Superintendent Daviot and Kevin and Barry on the moors high above Strathbane.

  “We have decided on a further cunning plan,” began Daviot. Hamish suppressed a groan. “We have a yacht registered to you, Hamish, the Marie-Claire, a ketch. She will only be carrying one kilo of heroin. This, you will say, is to prove the quality of the stuff and to make sure the landing place is safe. We will let that deal go through. Then you will promise the rest of the shipment. They will be lulled into a false sense of security. On the second delivery, that is when we will pounce.”

  “I don’t like the delay,” said Hamish. “I’m always frightened that the longer we wait, the more chance there is of word leaking out that the whole thing is a scam.”

  “Chief Inspector Chater?” asked Daviot.

  “It sounds all right to me,” said Olivia. “With so few people knowing about it, I can’t see anything going wrong. We’re going to Lachie’s tonight. When will we say the first shipment is due to arrive?”

  “Say two days’ time. That should speed things up enough for you, Macbeth.” Not “Hamish” this time. The super was obviously disappointed in what he saw as Hamish’s sad lack of enthusiasm.

  “Very well, sir,” said Olivia. “We will do what we can.”

  “Let’s hope the weathers all right,” said Hamish. “Who will be skippering the ketch?”

  “A police officer from Inverness. And the crew are policemen as well.”

  “Will they be armed?” asked Hamish.

  Daviot looked at him impatiently. “There will be no need for that. Jimmy White will not be expecting them to be around.”

  “On the contrary, sir. I would think that any drug baron would expect a crew bringing in heroin to be armed.”

  “I don’t believe in guns,” said Daviot severely. “Guile is the answer. Just do your part, Macbeth, and leave the rest to Chief Inspector Chater.”

  “Won’t it look odd my wife going along as well?” asked Hamish.

  “You’ll think of something,” said Daviot crossly. Why couldn’t Macbeth show some enthusiasm! “You can hardly leave the senior officer on the case behind.”

  What was that American phrase? thought Hamish. Amateur night in Dixie, this was it.

  “And what do we do when we know the landing place?” asked Hamish.

  “Olivia will contact us. The first shipment, we will have men observing. The second shipment, we’ll seize them.”

  “Very good, sir,” said Hamish in a hollow voice.

  “Well, I’ll be on my way.” Daviot cast a stagy look around the moors. “Coast’s clear.”

  Hamish watched his retreating figure. “Now I know why so many top policemen are Freemasons,” he said. “They like playing games.”

  “Show respect,” snapped Olivia.

  “I don’t like it at all,” said Hamish wearily.

  Olivia suppressed a qualm of unease. She had, she remembered, considered the whole business at the beginning quite mad. “We’ve got our orders,” she said briskly. “We’ll go to Lachie’s tonight.”

  ♦

  They entered Lachie’s that evening, flanked by Kevin and Barry. “I see Bob over there,” said Hamish. “I wonder why he didn’t demand payment for the introduction.”

  “He did,” said Olivia. “Kevin paid him out of the kitty when you were in with Jimmy White.”

  They asked at the bar for Lachie, and after a short wait, the Undertaker appeared.

  “Enjoy your stay in Amsterdam?” asked Hamish.

  The Undertaker gave a thin smile. “We always check up. Lachie’s waiting.”

  Lachie rose to meet them when they walked into the office.

  “Great to see you, Hamish, my man. I think we should have a wee talk in private. Your lady and friends can wait at the bar.”

  “My wife is my business partner,” said Hamish. “She stays.”

  Hamish slung his coat from his shoulders and sat down after pulling out a chair for Olivia. “I think the time has come when we prove our good faith to each other. My boat will land a kilo of heroin. You name the place, you check the quality. If all goes well, we’ll land the rest of the stuff at a second meet.”

  “Right you are,” said Lachie. “Jimmy’ll be up from Glasgow tomorrow. Meet him here about the same time. Let’s have a drink. On the house.”

  “Verra ki
nd,” said Hamish, his accent becoming more Highland with nerves. “But we have urgent business to attend to.”

  He stood up and slung his coat over his shoulders.

  “Aye, see you,” said Lachie, although his eyes slid curiously to Olivia.

  Back in the hotel room, Hamish said, “You should have kept your tarty image, Olivia. Lachie found it odd that you should be my business partner.”

  Olivia was wearing a tailored suit and subdued makeup. “Also,” Hamish went on, “you got to act the part from the inside put. You were emanating an atmosphere of senior police officer, Olivia. It’s a wonder he didn’t look down to see if you had big boots on.”

  “You’re the one who has to act the part,” said Olivia.

  “He’s right,” said Kevin. “I thought myself you were looking a bit severe.”

  Olivia capitulated. “Oh, well, I’ll do better tomorrow night.”

  “Fancy a drink in the bar downstairs, Hamish?” said Barry.

  “Aye, that would be grand.”

  “I have some phone calls to make,” said Olivia. “You go ahead.”

  “It’s the first time I’ve seen plastic tartan,” said Hamish, sitting down on a tartan banquette. “Isn’t this hotel awful?”

  “The whole of Strathbane is awful,” said Kevin. “All that lovely highland countryside all about and this town sitting in the middle of it like some great excrescence.”

  They ordered whiskies. “The thing that’s bothering me,” said Barry, leaning forward, “is that Superintendent Daviot. He’s like a wee boy playing at cops and robbers. And the men on the boat ought to be armed.”

  “Aye,” said Hamish. “I don’t like this idea of two shipments. One would have nailed them, quicker and safer. Olivia’s not stupid. Why didn’t she object?”

  “Because she got where she is today,” said Kevin, “by agreeing with everything the higher ranks said or told her to do. And it’s landed her in some hairy situations before. She knows if she starts sticking pins in Daviot’s plans, then he’ll report her as an officer who is awkward to work with.”

  Hamish looked around the bar. He was wearing his dark glasses just in case he saw a familiar face, but there were few people in that night.

  He stayed talking to Kevin and Barry for about an hour and then they all went upstairs to their respective rooms.

  “You took your time,” said Olivia when he walked in. “And you smell of whisky. I hope you’re not turning out to be a drunk.”

  “I only had a couple,” protested Hamish. “I can nurse a drink for a pretty long time.”

  “Why is it always just a couple? That’s the sign of a drunk, Hamish.”

  Hamish repressed a sigh. Frosty Olivia was back again.

  The fact was that Olivia was as nervous as Hamish over the forthcoming operation, but could not confide in him. She had got this far in police ranks by never criticising a superior officer to anyone.

  “Just a suggestion,” said Hamish tentatively.

  “That being?”

  “I didn’t like the look in Lachie’s eyes when I said you were my business partner. We’re going to have to look as if we’re in love.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, it figures that a man who was besotted with his wife would take her everywhere.”

  She sat frowning for a moment and then said, “All right. We’ll try that.”

  “Do you know what it’s like to be in love, Olivia?”

  To his surprise, her face flamed scarlet and she said, “Mind your own business.”

  “Sorry. Look, are we going to have to stay cooped up in here tomorrow? Or can we go somewhere?”

  “Where?”

  “Anywhere. We could take a picnic. The weather forecast says it’s going to be fine and there won’t be many more fine days. Winter sets in early up here.”

  “I’ll check with Daviot tomorrow. I don’t see any reason why we can’t go out.”

  Hamish brightened. “I’ll buy some stuff for a picnic tomorrow morning.”

  “No, you won’t,” said Olivia sharply. “Drug barons don’t go out shopping for picnics. We’ll send Kevin and Barry. I don’t think we need to take them with us, though. We’re not in any danger.”

  “Yet,” said Hamish, but she had reached over and switched on the television set and did not hear.

  The following day they set off with a generous hamper of goodies in the back seat, Kevin having done the shopping at Strathbane’s one posh delicatessen.

  “Where are we going?” asked Olivia as the sun sparkled on the broken glass in front of one of Strathbane’s many dismal high-rises.

  “The Falls of Braggie. It’s a beauty spot.”

  “Won’t it be full of tourists?”

  “Too late in the year.”

  The Falls of Braggie, a tremendous waterfall of gold peaty water, crashed down from a great height. Rainbows danced in the spray. Ferns already turning golden lined the steep banks of the River Braggie. Rowan trees heavy with dark red berries stood gracefully on the banks.

  “Is there any sort of flat place round here?” asked Olivia.

  “There,” said Hamish, pointing to a flat rock in the middle of the river below the falls.

  “And how do we get across?”

  “There’s some rocks that act as stepping-stones. I’ll leave the car here and then we’ll carry the hamper down to the river.”

  “What on earth has Kevin bought?” groaned Olivia as they edged their way down, carrying the heavy hamper between them. “Half the shop?”

  When they got to the edge of the river, she noticed there was a little causeway of rocks leading out to the flat stone. They gingerly made their way across and sat down with the hamper between them, the sun hot on their heads.

  Olivia lifted the lid. “Now, let’s see what we have here. Good God, what a waste of police money!”

  There was cold grouse, pate, rolls and butter, salad, various cheeses, chocolate cake and among various other goodies a bottle of vintage champagne.

  “I think Kevin was just trying to keep up our rich image,” said Hamish. “Let me see. Did he put in glasses to drink out of? No, he didn’t, silly man. We’ll need to drink out of the bottle.”

  “Not you. You’re driving.”

  “I’ll have a mouthful. Oh, look, here’s a flask of coffee and paper cups. We can use the cups.”

  “This is incredibly beautiful,” said Olivia, looking around her. “I’m beginning to understand why you love it up here so much.”

  “He’s remembered plates and knives and forks,” said Hamish, rummaging in the bottom of the hamper. “Do you want me to serve?”

  “No, I’ll do it. I’m not completely de-feminised.”

  Olivia was wearing trousers, and a sky-blue lambswool sweater over a blue silk blouse. Hamish was wearing an expensive sports shirt and designer jeans. “I wonder what happens to all these clothes when I hand them back,” he said, watching Olivia as she arranged squares of pate, toast Melba and pats of butter on two plates.

  “They probably go back into some sort of police wardrobe. Oh, open the champagne. We may as well have a glass, or rather a paper cup, of the stuff.”

  Hamish filled two cups and then placed the bottle carefully in the shallow water which ran round the rock to keep cool.

  “I can’t believe it’s so warm,” said Olivia.

  “It’s the lack of pollution up here,” replied Hamish. “The sun has nothing to block the rays. It’ll be cold tonight, mind, with a sharp frost.”

  “There speaks the true countryman. What’s the matter?”

  There was a sudden wariness and stillness about Hamish.

  “I don’t think we’re alone. Don’t look round!”

  “How do you know?”

  “Just a feeling.”

  “Probably tourists,” said Olivia impatiently.

  “Now we start to flirt,” said Hamish. “Voices carry.”

  He raised his voice. “More champagne, darling?” He lo
wered his voice. “And take that suspicious look off your face. I am not using this as an excuse to make a pass at you.”

  “That would be lovely,” said Olivia loudly. “If you’ve finished your pate, we’ll start on this grouse.”

  Hamish smiled at her lazily and glanced idly around. His sharp eyes caught a flash of light up on the left bank. “We’re being watched through binoculars. I’m going to kiss you.”

  “Is that necessary? Married men don’t go around kissing their wives in public.”

  “Besotted ones do. Lean forward and pucker up.”

  Olivia leaned forward. His kiss was warm and gentle and strangely comforting. He shifted around the rock and gathered her in his arms. “Don’t go too far,” she whispered.

  “I won’t.” He kissed her again. She relaxed against him. She began to return his kisses, feeling warm and languid in the sun, both of them forgetting the watcher, both of them locked in a little world far from drugs and danger.

  Hamish stole a quick look up the hill. No flash from binoculars, but then through a screen of rowan trees, he saw a black car moving off. He wanted to go on kissing her but he knew his sensual pleasure in the feel of her lips and the feel of her body against his was slowly turning to passion.

  “Our watcher has gone, Olivia,” he said. “We can carry on eating.”

  She moved away from him and bent her head over the hamper. Her cheeks were flushed and her bosom rose and fell.

  “I hope you realise that was all in the line of duty, Hamish.”

  “It was a pleasant duty, ma’am. Do you like grouse? I’ll tell you about a famous grouse race where two men competed to see who could get the first brace of grouse of the season to London first and how it led to murder.”

  Olivia listened, grateful to Hamish for having easily got over what might have been an awkwardness.

  When he had finished his story, she handed him a plate of grouse and said, “Who do you think was watching us?”

  “Probably the Undertaker or one of Jimmy White’s henchmen.”

  “I don’t like it. They should not be so suspicious of us now.”

  “We’re still an unknown quantity,” said Hamish. “Let’s talk about something else.”