by M C Beaton
Lamb, thought the colonel furiously. More like wolf in sheep’s clothing. Priscilla began to talk about hotel business while the colonel only half listened until he heard, with relief, Charlie’s voice saying, “You left your watch.”
“Thanks, Charlie. Thanks a lot!”
Charlie reported to the police station in the morning and Hamish listened in dismay to his news. When he had finished, Hamish said, “I got a call from the inspector. She’s still working on Andrew’s alibi. Probably be back up here tomorrow if she gets a breakthrough. We’d better get up to the hotel and see her while she’s here. I’ll see if Angela will look in on Sonsie and Lugs.”
Angela said she didn’t mind as long as the animals were left in the police station and not in her home, frightening her cats. Hamish and Charlie set out for the hotel. They called on the manager, Mr. Johnson, first of all and explained the problem. He said he would alert the staff to keep an eye on Priscilla. “But right now they’ve gone out for a run,” said the manager.
“Damn! We’d better search for them,” said Hamish. “Any idea where they went?”
“I think Priscilla said something about going to visit Dick and Anka.”
“Right. We’d better get over there.”
In Braikie, they headed up the side stairs to the flat above, knowing that Dick and Anka would be doing business online while staff served in the shop.
They paused outside the door and listened. They could clearly hear Harold saying, “What is a divine creature like you doing living in a dump like this? I could get you a job in London as a model. I also know people in the television and film industry.”
Enough, thought Hamish, and he opened the door. Four faces turned to look at them. Priscilla’s was a frozen mask. Dick looked furious. Harold was plainly leering at Anka, and Anka greeted them with patent relief.
“Come in, Hamish and Charlie. We are so glad to see you.”
“I am afraid we are just leaving,” said Priscilla. “Come along, Harold.”
He gave her a baffled look but followed her out. “Tell you later,” said Hamish. “Got to follow them.”
He hurried down the stairs and peered round into the street. Harold and Priscilla were getting into Harold’s Range Rover. As it started up, Hamish noticed with delight that one of the brake lights wasn’t working.
“His brake light’s out,” he said to Charlie. “Let’s stop them. Tell you what. You go to Braikie garage and tell Jake there’s fifty pounds for him if he finds something else wrong or makes something else wrong.”
Hamish jumped in his Land Rover and with siren wailing and blue light flashing, he set off in pursuit. Harold pulled to the side of the road. Hamish got out and rapped on the driver’s window. When Harold lowered it, Hamish said, “You have a broken brake light and you cannot proceed unless you get it fixed.”
“Do we need to do it now, Hamish?” asked Priscilla. “It’s just a minor thing.”
Hamish ignored her and said to Harold, “There’s the garage a few yards back. Take your vehicle there.”
Muttering about highland peasants, Harold turned his car around and headed for the garage.
Charlie saw him coming and quickly moved out of the garage and went to join Hamish.
“That’ll keep the scunner busy for a while,” said Hamish. “Let’s go to the pub for lunch.”
But when they emerged an hour later and strolled to the garage it was to find that Harold and Priscilla had gone.
“What went wrong?” demanded Hamish.
“I tried my best,” said Jake. “But thon fellow knew as much about cars as me. Here’s your fifty back.”
“Any idea where they went?” asked Hamish.
“I told them the Falls of Shin over by Lairg would look right pretty in the snow.”
“We’ll try there,” said Hamish.
By the Falls of Shin, Harold shouted above the roar of the water, “Are we going to stand here freezing all day? Think of it, Priscilla. We could be in London, instead of freezing our arses up here. Mind you, I know a good way to keep warm.” He jerked her into his arms and forced his mouth down on hers. Priscilla began to struggle. “Not here,” she pleaded, jerking her mouth back. He abruptly released her and then swore. A snowball had struck him on the back of the head.
He looked wildly around. “Where did that come from?”
“Probably kids,” said Priscilla. “We’ll go back to the car and find somewhere to eat.”
They climbed back up to the car park. That was when Harold found that his car would not start. Cursing, he got out and lifted the bonnet. “The distributor leads have gone!” he yelled.
He looked up at the sound of an approaching vehicle to see the police Land Rover turning into the car park.
Hamish Macbeth climbed down and approached them. “Oh, it is yourselves,” he said. “Some wee laddies phoned up and said a woman was being raped down at the falls.”
“You can help out,” snarled Harold. “Someone has stolen the distributor leads.”
“I’ll get someone from the nearest garage over. It’ll be quicker than phoning the Automobile Association. We’ll take Priscilla with us because it’s too cold for a lady to wait here.”
“I’ll come, too,” said Harold.
“Och, no need for that,” said Hamish. “What if the thief came back and took the whole car?”
“It’s all right, Harold,” said Priscilla. “I won’t be long.”
Charlie moved into the back and Priscilla climbed into the passenger seat. “Now,” she said angrily, “did you stage this?”
“Why would I do that?” asked Hamish.
“To spoil my fun.”
“Oh, my.” Hamish threw on the brakes. “I should ha’ known you’d prefer to be wi’ your fiancé.”
“Just drive on!” snapped Priscilla.
The garage in Lairg was closed for DINNER, as the notice on the door said, dinner still being served in the middle of the day. They found out that the garage owner lived in a bungalow down by the loch, but he refused to move until he had finished his dinner of barley soup, stew, and apple crumble. Priscilla tried to phone Harold but could not get a reply. The reason was that Harold was sure Hamish had planned the whole thing. Thirsting for revenge, he phoned police headquarters in Strathbane and said he wished to report Sergeant Hamish Macbeth, who had deliberately sabotaged his car.
Blair heard of the call and said he would deal with it. This, he was sure, was Hamish trying to cover up something sinister. For Hamish had not put in a report. Careless of expense, he commandeered the police helicopter and set off.
Harold heard the whir of the helicopter overhead and got out of his car. The helicopter descended, covering him in a small blizzard. Blair and two policemen got out.
“Come with us,” ordered Blair. “We’ll sort this out at headquarters.”
“I am not going anywhere, you stupid moron,” raged the snowman that was Harold. “This is like the Keystone Cops.”
“Handcuff him,” ordered Blair. “I am charging you with abusing a senior police officer.”
Hamish, Priscilla, and Charlie looked up in the sky and saw the helicopter lifting off. “I think that was ower at the falls,” said Charlie.
“Probably some poor soul has had a heart attack or something,” said Hamish. “We’d better get to his car and fix it.”
He raced ahead of the mechanic. “You stay in the car, Priscilla,” said Hamish. “Don’t want you getting cold.”
He quickly replaced the distributor leads before the mechanic arrived. But Harold had taken the car keys with him. Hamish looked around and then down at the blown circle of snow. “He must have had an accident,” he said. “That helicopter must have been for Harold.”
He phoned the Air Ambulance, but they said they had not picked anyone up from Lairg.
Detective Chief Inspector Blair was a very unlucky man. Daviot was leaving the police station just as a handcuffed Harold was being marched inside.
�
�I wish to use my phone,” Harold was shouting. “My fiancée, Priscilla Halburton-Smythe, will wonder what has happened to me.”
“May I be of assistance?” asked Daviot.
Harold burst out with the whole story.
Daviot’s pale eyes fastened on Blair. “Why is this gentleman in handcuffs?”
“He insulted me,” said Blair.
“What exactly did he say?”
“He said that Macbeth had sabotaged his car.”
“Did you phone Macbeth and demand an explanation?”
“It seemed too important to wait. So I took the helicopter up there.”
“You what?” roared Daviot. “Do you know the cost of that thing? You are a bloody moron. I am so deeply sorry, sir. I will take you back and we will settle this whole matter. Get the handcuffs off him, now!”
Hamish got a call from Jimmy Anderson, who gleefully related the whole scene. “It seems as if Harold reported you to headquarters for deliberately sabotaging his car and Blair came flying up. Harold insulted him. Blair arrested him and they’re on their way back.”
When she heard the story, Priscilla said in a voice as cold as the snowy scene outside the Land Rover, “I wouldn’t put it past you, Hamish.”
“Priscilla, I was nowhere around when the car wouldnae start. I thought someone was in trouble when a wee boy reported a woman was getting raped.”
“So how did you get here so quickly from Braikie?”
“False report of a burglary.”
Soon they heard the whir of a helicopter. When it landed, Hamish got out and went to meet Daviot.
He noticed Charlie had disappeared.
“Report, Macbeth,” commanded Daviot. Hamish said that a boy had reported a rape at the Falls of Shin and he had raced there. He found it was a false alarm. Then Harold’s car wouldn’t start so he had gone off to find a mechanic and had to wait until the man finished his dinner.
“I’ll hae the keys,” said the mechanic, and Harold passed them over. Soon they heard the engine of his car roar into life. “Seems just fine,” he said. “Maybe your spark plugs got damp.”
“Rubbish! The distributor caps had been stolen. Where is this schoolboy?” said Harold. “I don’t believe he exists.”
“Here,” came Charlie’s voice. He walked up to them leading two small boys whose faces were smeared with chocolate. “Go on, Declan,” he said to one of the boys. “Tell the nice superintendent what you saw.”
“Me and Rory was up by the falls making a snowman,” said Declan, “and we saw this wumman and a man seemed to be attacking her. I’ve got a mobile from my ma so I called the police.”
Daviot turned to Priscilla. “Is there any truth in this? Were you in difficulties?”
Priscilla turned red with embarrassment. “My fiancé was kissing me, but I struggled free because it didn’t seem the right place or time. I’m afraid these little boys got the wrong idea.”
Harold rounded on Priscilla. “I am going back to civilisation right now. We are going to the hotel and then we are going straight back to London.”
“Not here,” said Priscilla. “We’ll discuss this on the road back to the hotel.”
“I want pay for my time,” said the mechanic.
“You can take your time and stuff it up your highland arse,” shouted Harold.
“Send your bill to police headquarters in Strathbane,” said Daviot, “and maybe we’ll call it quits.”
“No, we won’t call it quits,” said Harold. “I’m suing you lot for wrongful arrest.”
“It’ll make a right amusing story for the press,” said Hamish, “when it gets to court. London stockbroker reported falsely for trying to rape his fiancée. Arrested and taken off in handcuffs. Although nothing up with his car, told hardworking mechanic to shove his bill up his arse. I can see the headlines now.”
“Oh, drop the whole thing,” said Harold.
He helped Priscilla into his car and drove off. Daviot nodded curtly to Hamish and climbed into the helicopter.
“Make that bill a big one,” said Hamish to the mechanic. “Come on, Charlie. Do the kids live nearby?”
“Aye, they’ll be all right. A croft just ower the brae.”
“We may as well follow them. We’re all going to Lochdubh anyway.”
As they drove along, Hamish asked, “How much did it cost you?”
“Two bars o’ chocolate and a fiver.”
“Parents all right with that?”
“The father, John Sweeney, is a friend o’ your mother’s. No trouble at all.”
“That’s them up ahead,” said Hamish, looking down the long road. “I don’t like this. I think he’s a brute. Priscilla’s always looking for someone suitable to please her parents. Now what’s happening? He’s driven off the road and up thon forestry track. We’d better follow them.”
“I wouldnae do that,” said Charlie. “You’ll give Harold a good reason to say we’re stalking him.”
“You’re right,” said Hamish. “You stay here and I’ll go on foot.”
“What on earth are we doing here?” demanded Priscilla.
“It’s time you got to know who’s boss in this relationship,” said Harold. “Get in the backseat.”
“No, I will not. Drive me back to the hotel immediately.”
Harold leaned across her, flicked open the glove compartment, and drew out a knife. He held it to her throat. “Do as you’re told.”
Priscilla wrenched off her engagement ring and threw it in his face. “The engagement is over.” She opened the car door and got out. “I’ll walk.”
Harold got out as well, seized her, and threw her down in the snow. He brandished the knife. “You are going to do exactly as you’re told, you frigid bitch.”
The next moment he was seized by the collar and jerked backwards. Hamish Macbeth stamped on his wrist. Harold let go of the knife. Hamish picked it up and threw it off into the trees.
“I am charging you with attempted rape,” said Hamish, “and with carrying a dangerous weapon. You—”
“Hamish,” pleaded Priscilla, “let it go. I can’t bear the scandal. I feel like an absolute fool. Please, Hamish.”
“Oh, all right,” said Hamish. Harold was still lying on the ground. He gave him a vicious kick in the ribs to relieve his feelings. “Go down to the road, Priscilla. You’ll find Charlie there. I’ll join you in a moment.”
He walked to Harold’s Range Rover and took the keys out of the ignition. “You can walk back to the hotel, you scunner,” he raged.
He put the keys in his pocket and strode back down the track.
Harold had to wait two hours before the Automobile Association, already overloaded with emergency calls, managed to get someone out to him. He was freezing because without his car keys, he had been unable to put on the car heater. By the time he had thought to phone the hotel manager and ask that someone should go up to his room and find his spare keys, Hamish had already been on to the hotel. He was told that his cases were packed and waiting for him in the hall and he was no longer welcome.
Hamish kept Priscilla at the police station until he heard that Harold had left. He then asked Charlie to take her back. Priscilla was badly shaken. She had told him that Harold had seemed so romantic. He had sent her roses and taken her out to the best restaurants in town. Hamish felt he was listening to a description of a psychopathic control freak. He had heard of cases where men like Harold would start off as loving and caring. But usually they waited until the woman was secure in marriage before they started making life a hell.
Would Priscilla ever realise that there was something up with her? He remembered when they were engaged, how her coldness had made him want to weep.
He was just settling comfortably in front of the television with Lugs and Sonsie beside him on the sofa when his mobile rang.
It was Fiona. “I’ll be with you in an hour. There’s a lot to discuss.”
Chapter Nine
“Come, come,” said Tom�
�s father, “at your time of life,
“There’s no longer excuse for thus playing the rake—
“It is time, boy, you should think of taking a wife”—
“Why so it is, father—whose wife shall I take?”
—Thomas More
By the time the inspector arrived, Hamish was fast asleep. Fiona had let herself in. She stood looking down at him and made to shake him awake. The cat’s eyes blazed with a yellow light and she let out a warning hiss.
“Macbeth!” Fiona shouted.
“What?” Hamish struggled awake and then got to his feet. “Sorry, ma’am. It’s been a long day.”
“Where’s Carter?”
“At the hotel.”
“Get him here!”
Charlie arrived in ten minutes’ time, glad to escape from a dinner with the Halburton-Smythe family. Priscilla was miserable and her parents looked wretched.
He shied like a large carthorse when he saw Fiona, but all she said coldly was, “Now you are here, Carter, we can get down to business.” She took her laptop out of its case and switched it on. “Here’s what I have found. Yes, Andrew and Greta Harrison were at this wife-swopping party. The people who indulge in that sort of thing! There was even a judge there.”
“Not your husband, I hope,” said Hamish.
“Don’t get cheeky with me, Sergeant. Now, how this sleazy party works is that they draw out slips of paper, and whoever’s name’s on it chooses a partner. It’s a great big place out at Morningside. That couple go off to one of the many bedrooms. But the one who was not chosen was Greta because there was one woman too many. What did she do then? Nobody knows. Her husband tried to swear she was waiting for him when he had finished his business. That was how he put it. But all the others, now terrified of scandal, and promised secrecy provided they were honest, all swore that Andrew had left alone. She could have driven to the hunting box, lured Gloria outside, and strangled her. She and Andrew may have been terrified that old Harrison would leave everything in his will to her.
