Hamish MacBeth 15 (1999) - Death of an Addict

by M C Beaton

  “Cheers!” said Callum.

  Lachie nodded. Then he said, “How much are you asking for this information?”

  “A thousand pounds,” said Callum.

  “Well, we’ll see.” The door opened and the Undertaker came in. “On his way,” he said briefly. He sat down on a chair against the wall. He took out a nasty-looking knife and began to clean his nails.

  “I thought they only did that on the fillums,” said Callum nervously. Both men said nothing, just looked steadily and unnervingly at Callum.

  “It’s been fine weather,” said Callum.

  Nothing. They just continued to stare at him. Callum could feel sweat breaking out on his forehead. He began to curse Blair in his mind. He was beginning to feel all this was too deep and dangerous for a small-time villain like himself.

  The door opened and Jimmy White came in. Callum immediately knew this must be Jimmy White from the expensive clothes and the two brutal-looking henchmen who came in behind him.

  Jimmy White drew up a chair next to Callum and said, “Speak.”

  “It’s important information,” said Callum. “I want a thousand pounds for it.”

  “You’ll get it. Now, speak.”

  “I’d like to see the money first,” said Callum, frightened but determined.

  “You have the word of Jimmy White. Isn’t that good enough for you?”

  Callum caved in. Now all he wanted was to get out of this dreadful place. The office was soundproofed but the disco beat filtered through like the beating of his heart.

  “It’s like this,” he said. “You’re dealing with a man who says he’s Hamish George and his wife.”

  “So?”

  “He’s Hamish Macbeth, a copper from Lochdubh, and his so-called wife is a detective chief inspector from Glasgow. The heroin you’re getting is from that haul the police grabbed in Glasgow. At the next drop, all the police will be waiting for you.”

  “Who told you this?”

  “I got it from top level in the police but I cannae be revealing my source. Now, what about that money?”

  Jimmy White turned to one of his henchmen. He made a twisting motion with his hands. “Pay him.”

  Callum relaxed and picked up his whisky. One of the henchmen stepped forward and deftly slipped a wire around Callum’s scrawny neck and pulled tight. The rest watched with interest as Callum writhed and fought and then was still. His lifeless body slumped to the floor.

  “Dump that in the harbour,” said Jimmy.

  “You’d best clear off,” said Lachie.

  “Not before I take out Hamish Macbeth,” said Jimmy. “That bastard’s going to pay for this with his life.”

  ♦

  Hamish went through to their little hotel sitting room the following morning. Olivia looked up at him, her face shiny bright as if lacquered. He thought, She’s going to say, “I hope you are not going to take what happened between us last night seriously.”

  “Sit down, Hamish. Coffee? There’s something we need to discuss.”

  “You’re going to say that last night is to be forgotten,” said Hamish.

  “Well, yes. We’ve got a job on and we cannot have any emotional involvement.”

  “Very well, ma’am.”

  There was an awkward silence. Hamish switched on the television. It was the local news. “A body was recovered from the harbour at Strathbane this morning,” said the announcer. “Police are not revealing the identity of the dead man until relatives have been informed. Foul play is suspected.”

  “Find out who that was,” said Hamish.

  “Why?”

  “We’re involved in a drug scam and suddenly there’s a dead body. I’d like to know who it is.”

  Olivia phoned Daviot, who said he would phone back. “I think we’re both worrying too much, Hamish.”

  “I’ve suddenly got a bad feeling,” said Hamish. “Dammit, I know there’s something gone wrong.”

  The phone rang, making them both jump. Olivia answered it, listened, said thank you and rang off. “He was a small-time crook called Callum Short.”

  “Could they get a photograph of him over here?”

  “Why, Hamish?”

  “Just a hunch. Please, Olivia.”

  Olivia rang again and asked for a photograph of the dead man. “I hope you’re not cracking up,” she said to Hamish.

  “How did he die?”

  “He was strangled.”

  “I’m worried.”

  “But why?”

  “I’ll tell you when I see that photo.”

  Olivia had ordered breakfast but Hamish picked at his.

  After an hour, there was a knock at the door. “That’ll be the photograph,” said Olivia.

  She swung open the door.

  Jimmy White’s henchmen walked in. Both held guns. One said, “You’ll put on your coats and come with us. One movement, Macbeth, and we’ll shoot her first in the stomach.”

  They put on their coats. “And look cheery about it,” the taller of the two growled. “One sign to alert anyone and she’s dead.”

  Numbly they walked downstairs. Outside, there was a long black car. The door swung open. “In the back,” they were ordered. They climbed in. Jimmy White was sitting there, holding a small pistol.

  “Where are you taking us?” asked Hamish.

  “Shut your face,” said Jimmy.

  The car sped on out of Strathbane. Hamish held Olivia’s hand. How had they been unmasked? Was it something to do with that body in the harbour?

  Then he realised they were heading for Lochdubh.

  “You taking me home?” he asked Jimmy.

  “Aye, we did some checking up on you. I’ve been up all night,” said Jimmy. “Highland copper who loves the place. So you’ll die there.”

  “Man, everyone will know you killed us!” said Hamish. “You’ll have all the police looking for you.”

  “I’ll be on my way to South America tonight,” said Jimmy. “And I want everyone to know I did it. Nobody messes wi’ me. I was thinking of retiring anyway.”

  The car cruised down to the harbour at Lochdubh. Hamish could see Jimmy’s high-powered boat in the harbour.

  “As I said, I checked up on you,” said Jimmy. “You’re supposed to be taking a wee holiday. So as part of your holiday, you’re coming on a sail with me. You’re the only copper in Lochdubh, so there won’t be any more of the fuzz around. Nobody likes a policeman, so the villagers wont be much interested in what you do. But just in case you try to warn any of them, they’ll be killed.”

  He’s mad, thought Hamish. Stark staring mad. And yet, he’ll get away with it. Dump me and Olivia at sea and head off to France or Amsterdam and disappear.

  The car stopped on the harbour. “Get out,” ordered Jimmy. “You men, keep the guns concealed, but shoot if you have to. Hughie”—to the driver—“take this car away and lose it.”

  Hamish got out of the car and then helped Olivia out. He took a longing look at Lochdubh. If I ever get out of this alive, he thought, I’ll never leave the place again.

  “Hamish!” He froze.

  Angela Brodie was hurrying along the waterfront towards them. “Get rid of her fast,” snarled Jimmy.

  “Why, Hamish,” said Angela, coming up to him, “you’re looking very grand. Won the lottery?”

  “No, thrift shop,” said Hamish.

  “You’ll need to tell me which thrift shop and I’ll go there myself,” exclaimed Angela.

  “I’ve got to go,” said Hamish, conscious of Jimmy’s gun in his ribs. “I’ll call on you when I get back.”

  Angela looked from one to the other. Why didn’t Hamish introduce her and why was that woman with him so white-faced and frightened?

  “Your sheep are all right, Hamish,” she said. Jimmy was urging Hamish away from her.

  “What about the black one?” asked Hamish over his shoulder. “It’s sick. I think it’s going to be put down. See you.”

  Another jab from the
gun. Hamish and Olivia went down the stone steps to the large white cruiser which was Jimmy’s boat. They were urged down into the cabin. “Tie them up and let’s get out of here,” said Jimmy.

  “What are you going to do with us?” asked Hamish as their hands and feet were bound.

  “Weight you down and throw you overboard,” said Jimmy. “Like I said, I was going to retire and this will be my last great up-yours to the coppers. No one makes a fool out o’ Jimmy White.”

  He jerked his head to the two henchmen. “No need to guard them. Let’s go up on deck. The smell of police gets up my nose.”

  “What went wrong?” Olivia said through white lips when she and Hamish were alone.

  “Someone blabbed.”

  “Who?”

  “Someone at Strathbane.”

  “You mean police headquarters? Surely not. Maybe someone recognised you.”

  “I didn’t go out of the hotel without my hat and dark glasses on. I took them off the day of the picnic, but only for the picnic. There’s a lot of drunkenness in the police force and they consort with their informers.”

  “Whoever did this must have known we would be killed.”

  “Maybe not. Maybe they thought that the whole business would be aborted and that we’d all be left with egg on our faces.”

  “Hamish, I’m terrified.”

  He leaned forward and kissed her. It was all he could do. His mind went this way and that, but he could not see any hope for them. He was glad of the pain from the wire binding his wrists and ankles. It took his mind off, just a little, from his forthcoming death.

  Then he cocked his head. “Listen, another boat.” He listened again. “Sounds like a fishing boat.”

  “Ahoy there,” called a voice.

  “Get your boat away, man. You’re right across our bows.”

  “I’ve run out o’ baccy,” whined the other voice.

  “Archie Macleod, by all that’s holy,” said Hamish.

  “Who’s he?”

  “Local fisherman. What’s he doing out this time of day? And he doesn’t smoke.”

  “Should I shoot him, boss?” One of the henchmen.

  “No, I’ll give him a packet of cigarettes. Go downstairs the pair of you and keep them quiet. Don’t want any shouts for help.”

  “Bring your boat alongside,” yelled Jimmy.

  “Verra kind of you, sir.”

  Soon both engines were cut.

  ♦

  “You’re going to a lot of trouble for a packet of cigarettes,” said Jimmy, eyeing the small figure of Archie Macleod with distaste. “Here, take the whole packet and be off with you.”

  The fishing boat drifted a little away.

  “Och, I cannae reach,” said Archie. “Boys, a bit o’ help here!”

  Suddenly fishermen came racing up the companionway of the fishing boat, seized grappling irons and pulled Jimmy’s boat close to their own.

  Jimmy struggled to get his gun out of his coat pocket, but Archie had also seized a grappling iron and with tremendous force for such a small man, he rammed it straight into Jimmy’s chest and sent him sprawling on the deck. Archie leapt onto Jimmy’s boat and held an evil-looking gutting knife to his throat, just as his two henchmen erupted onto the deck.

  “They shoot us,” panted Archie, “and afore the bullet hits me, you’re dead.”

  “Don’t shoot.’” shouted Jimmy, his eyes dilating with terror.

  “Throw your guns in the water,” said Archie, kneeling on Jimmy’s chest.

  “Do as they say,” howled Jimmy, beside himself with terror. He had caused people to be tortured, killed and maimed but never in his unsavoury life had he himself ever been in such peril.

  The men threw their guns in the water.

  “Tie them all up,” ordered Archie. There was a splash as Jimmy’s skipper left the wheelhouse and threw himself overboard.

  “Silly man,” said Archie. “He will not be getting far.”

  Once Jimmy and the others were all trussed up, Archie made his way down to the saloon.

  “Och, it is yourself, Hamish,” he said cheerily. “And your young leddy.”

  “I was never so glad to see anyone in my life, Archie,” said Hamish. “Can you get this wire off? The lady first.”

  Archie sawed at Olivias bonds. “You’ll owe me a new gutting knife, Hamish,” he said. “It’ll never be the same after cutting wire.”

  “I’ll buy you a gold one,” said Olivia, and burst into tears.

  “Dinnae greet,” said Archie. “It’s all ower. We got them all.”

  When he and Olivia were free, Hamish massaged his wrists and said, “How did you know?”

  “It was herself, Angela, Mrs. Brodie. You said something to her about a black sheep that had to be put down and herself kenned you didnae have a black sheep and she thought they looked a lot o’ villains so she rushes into the Lochdubh bar shouting you’ve been shanghaied. Then she goes running around the village, calling the folks out o’ their houses. Man, I had a rare time. It was like the movies.”

  The boat began to move again. “David Queen is at the wheel o’ my fishing boat,” said Archie. “He’s towing us in.” Suddenly the sound of the engine cut.

  “What now?” asked Hamish nervously.

  “Och, he’ll have stopped to pull the skipper o’ this boat out of the water.”

  Sure enough, there came cries and then the thump of someone being hauled on deck. Then the engine started up again.

  “Davie Queens been on the ship-to-shore radio to tell folks you’re all right. Who’s your leddy?”

  “This is Detective Chief Inspector Chater from Glasgow, Archie.”

  “My, my, imagine a bonny wee lassie like yourself getting mixed up with killers like these. What you need is a nice man like Hamish here to marry and have some bairns. I was just saying the other day to the wife, it’s time our Hamish got married.”

  Hamish’s face flamed scarlet. “Drop it, Archie. You’re a worse danger than Jimmy White.”

  Olivia was standing on the deck beside Hamish as they approached the harbour at Lochdubh. The harbour was crowded. It looked as if the whole village had turned out.

  A great cheer went up as Hamish and Olivia walked up the weedy stone steps to the harbour.

  Hamish hoped he wouldn’t cry. They were all there: Angela and her husband, Dr. Brodie, the Currie sisters, minister Mr. Wellington and his large tweedy wife.

  Hamish went straight up and gave Angela a hug. “You’re a clever girl,” he said.

  “I knew something was wrong when you talked about that black sheep,” said Angela, “and your poor girlfriend looked frightened to death.”

  For the first time in her career, Olivia felt reduced in status.

  “We had better go straight to police headquarters, Macbeth,” she snapped, “after we have seen Jimmy and his associates taken away.”

  Angela gave her a look of dislike. “Who’s she?” she asked Hamish.

  “Detective Inspector Chater.”

  “Oh, really? Doesn’t the word ‘thank you’ enter her vocabulary?”

  Olivia felt ashamed of herself. “I’m sorry,” she said to Angela. “I owe you my life, and Archie.”

  “You can thank them later,” said Hamish. “Let’s go to the police station and phone.”

  “What happened?” cried Angela, and several voices added theirs to hers, demanding to know the story.

  Olivia, who was still shaking with fright and nerves, could only marvel at the calm way Hamish told the story of their abduction. The crowd was silent, hanging on every word. Although she far outranked Hamish, she had to wait patiently, because this was Lochdubh, where Hamish Macbeth was king.

  ♦

  “We all know drug money corrupts,” said the chief constable heavily.

  It was early evening. The table in the conference room at police headquarters was surrounded by top brass. Hamish and Olivia sat side by side at the end of the table.

  “I can
not see how word could have possibly leaked out,” said Daviot. “I think someone recognised Macbeth and told Lachie.”

  “Who was Callum Short?” asked Hamish suddenly.

  They all looked at him.

  “The man who was strangled and thrown in the harbour.”

  “Why?” asked Daviot.

  “Because it is just possible he might have been the informant. It’s just a hunch.”

  Detective Jimmy Anderson was there. “We checked up on him. He was a small-time villain.”

  Blair stared at the table. He longed for a drink but there was only Perrier water. Thank God he had played his snouts close to his chest. He had destroyed the book with the names of his informants and had replaced it with a new record without Callum’s name.

  “I asked for a photograph to be sent to the hotel. Was it ever sent?”

  “I’ll find out,” said Daviot, and nodded to his secretary, who went out of the room.

  “Despite all that, the operation has been a great success,” said Daviot. “Jimmy White arrested and the others being rounded up.”

  The representatives of the Glasgow police talked at length about how their troops were being massed for dawn raids on several addresses.

  Daviot’s secretary, Helen, came back in. “Well?” demanded Daviot.

  “The photographs and the file on Callum Short are missing,” she said.

  “What about the computer log?”

  “There’s nothing on that.”

  “What!” exclaimed Jimmy Anderson. “There was first thing this morning because I looked it up myself.”

  “This could mean that someone in headquarters leaked the information about the scam to Callum and Callum tried to sell it,” said Hamish.

  Blair could feel sweat trickling down inside his shirt.

  “We’ll need to start a full investigation,” said Daviot.

  “If I could make a suggestion.” Hamish Macbeth again. Blair suppressed a groan. “If this Callum was selling information, then he would go to Lachie at the disco, and to get to Lachie, he would ask the bartender.”

  “Hasn’t the bartender been picked up?” asked Daviot.

  Jimmy Anderson shook his head. “He’s disappeared.”

  “Then we’ll need to find out from the young people who were there if anyone answering Callum’s description was seen in Lachie’s,” said Olivia.