by M C Beaton
“It’s locked off in the back.”
“I’m not getting in there.”
“Suit yourself,” said Hamish. He did a U-turn and sped off in the direction of Strathbane.
The zoo in Strathbane, he knew, was well run, unlike most of the rest of that dismal town. He wondered why he hadn’t been met on the road, feeling sure that Josie would have phoned to say he had a dangerous animal in the back of the Land Rover. He did not know that Josie had found the batteries in her phone had died. He stopped briefly on the road to phone Daviot and say the lion had been caught.
At the zoo, the head keeper cautiously opened the rear doors of the Land Rover. The lion was asleep.
“I don’t think the poor lion needs a tranquilliser gun,” said Hamish. “I should guess it’s awfy old. It came from some circus so it’ll be used to folks.”
Daviot had phoned the local papers, and several reporters and photographers were gathered.
“No flash pictures,” ordered Hamish. “It’s waking up. Let me see if I can get it out. Come on, boy. It’s all right.”
The lion blinked at him and slowly rose to its feet. The remains of the haunch of venison were lying beside it. “Now then,” cooed Hamish. “That’s the ticket. Slowly now. Just one wee jump. There we are.”
The lion stood beside him. The keeper said, “Maybe if you follow me to the cage, it’ll follow you.”
“It had better be a good big cage,” said Hamish.
“Och, it leads onto a bit of a field and a big auld tree,” said the keeper.
Hamish followed him and the lion followed Hamish. Once at the cage, Hamish walked into it with the lion behind him. The keeper opened a sack he had been carrying and threw a lump of meat into the cage.
The lion fell on it and Hamish slowly exited the cage. “Turn those lights off,” snarled Hamish at a television crew, “and give the lion a bit o’ peace.”
Hamish drove back to the wildlife park. The rain had begun to fall. Josie was standing outside the office, looking wet and miserable.
“They wouldn’t let me in the office,” complained Josie. “They said there wasn’t room and I wasn’t on the case.”
“Get in,” said Hamish. Josie meekly climbed in. “Now, what were you about, McSween,” said Hamish. “Thon lion was secure in the back. It’s where we put a prisoner, see? It couldnae have got at us.”
“I was scared,” mumbled Josie.
Hamish had been frightened as well but Josie did not know him well enough to understand that Hamish’s accent became more highland and sibilant when he was afraid. But overcoming Hamish’s fear was a desire to keep this noble old lion alive. He was sure if Strathbane police had arrived on the scene, then they would have shot it.
“We’ll say no more about it,” said Hamish. “I’ll switch on the heater. Do you want to go home and change?”
“I’ve only got the one uniform,” said Josie. “I’ll soon dry out. What are we going to do in Braikie?”
“I’m going to try to find out the names of some of Annie’s friends. I want to know whether she had met anyone who might wish her harm. But maybe we’ll begin at the post office and see if Georgie Braith, the new postmistress, can remember names of men or boys who bought valentines.”
“Isn’t it ‘postperson’?” asked Josie.
“We aren’t PC up here.”
Hamish parked in front of the post office. “Could we have something to eat first?” pleaded Josie.
“Time’s getting on. Stick it out for a bit.” He looked down at Josie’s dismal face. “Tell you what. You get something to eat. There’s the fish-and-chip shop over there. I’ll let you know if I find out anything. Meet me back at the Land Rover.”
Why did Josie stay on? wondered Hamish. He suspected she had given up going on calls. Why didn’t she just go back to Strathbane?
Georgie Braith was a tall, rangy woman with iron-grey hair and a beak of a nose. To Hamish’s questions, she replied, “The parcel wasn’t posted from here. I can tell you that. And how can I remember who bought valentines? It’s age. I can remember twenty years ago but don’t ask me about yesterday.”
“Did you know Annie Fleming?”
“Of course. You know what it’s like in Braikie. Everyone knows everyone else.”
“What did you think of her?”
“A very bonnie lass.”
“Do you happen to know who her friends were?”
“I remember now. She came in to look at valentines with Jessie Cormack.”
“Where will I find Jessie Cormack?”
“She works as a secretary up at the town hall-the building department.”
Hamish was just making his way out to the car when his attention was caught by a newspaper poster outside the newsagents. TV PRESENTER TO WED seemed to scream at him.
He went in to the newsagents and bought a copy of the Daily Bugle. He flipped open the pages and there it was: a photo of a smiling Elspeth Grant on the arm of a handsome man stared out at him. He read, “Our very own Elspeth Grant is to wed Paul Darby, heartthrob of the hospital soap Doctors in Peril.” His eyes skittered over the black print. Paul Darby was English, and the couple had met when Elspeth was on holiday in the Maldives.
Hamish stood there, feeling forlorn. He remembered all the times he had been on the point of proposing to Elspeth but something had always seemed to get in the way. A voice in his head sneered, “If you had been that keen, you’d have proposed.” But he felt depressed.
He put the newspaper in the rubbish bin outside and joined Josie in the Land Rover. “We’re off to the town hall,” said Hamish. “One of the secretaries there was a friend o’ Annie.”
“Anything the matter?” asked Josie, glancing sideways at his grim face.
“Nothing at all,” snapped Hamish.
Jessie Cormack was a tall, thin girl with brown hair pulled back in a ponytail. Her eyes were light grey in a pale face. Her mouth, however, was wide and sensual although free of lipstick.
The town hall was one of those red sandstone mock castles so beloved by the Victorians. Jessie’s little room was small and dark, separated from that of her boss by a plywood partition. It was very quiet. The thick walls blocked out all sounds from outside. The rain had turned to snow, and feathery flakes floated down outside the window.
“Do you know of anyone who might have wanted to wish Annie harm?” asked Hamish.
“No. Annie was popular with everyone.”
Hamish was sitting opposite her desk. Josie had taken a chair against the wall next to a radiator. Hamish leaned back in his chair and said quietly, “The time for lying is past, Jessie.”
Jessie studied her hands in her lap. Then she said, “Her parents will be mad.”
“It doesn’t matter what her parents think, and they can’t get mad wi’ a dead body,” said Hamish brutally. “Out with it!”
“Well, it was like how she said the Freemonts who run the wildlife park didn’t have a clue how to go on. She said they were losing money hand over fist. It was all Bill Freemont’s fault. It was his dream and his wife’s money. Anyway, they tried to get Annie to do some work round the cages, cleaning and that, but Annie said she was employed as a secretary and that was that.
“One day recently she heard Mrs. Freemont shouting that they didn’t need a secretary because there wasn’t enough work but Bill said they needed someone to answer the phones and take money from people when they weren’t there.
“When they went off somewhere, Annie would lock up at lunchtime and go to that disco, Stardust, in Strathbane. They have a lunchtime session. She said she met a dreamboat there.”
“Name?”
“Jake something or other. She was going to take me there one Saturday and introduce me.”
“Anyone else?”
“She said Bill Freemont had come on to her but she threatened to tell his wife and he backed off. Och, it was her parents’ fault. They were that strict. You know, church and Bible classes on the Sunday.”
“Which church?”
“The Free Presbyterian Church in Braikie.”
“So Annie liked to rebel?”
“She was a bit of a flirt.”
“Oh, she was, was she?” said Hamish. “You seem to be taking her murder calmly.”
“She was asking for it,” said Jessie in a burst of sudden anger. “She flirted with my boyfriend and then laughed in his face when he tried to ask her out. He didn’t have any time for me. He followed her around like a dog.”
“Name?”
“Percy Stane.”
“And where does he work?”
“Waste disposal. Across the hall.”
“Right.” Hamish got to his feet. “Did you get all that, McSween?”
Josie blushed. She had been daydreaming.
Hamish sighed and took out his notebook. “Right, Jessie, I’ll need you to go over it again.”
Percy Stane-what misguided parent called a child Percy these days? wondered Hamish-turned out to be a spotty youth of nineteen years. He had thick glasses through which pale blue eyes stared at them like a rabbit caught in the headlights.
“We just want to ask you a few questions about Annie Fleming,” said Hamish. “Did you send her a valentine?”
Percy’s eyes darted this way and that. “We have good forensic evidence,” said Hamish severely, hoping Percy would think his card had been found.
“I-I d-did s-send one,” he stammered.
“Now, that’s all right,” said Hamish soothingly. “You didn’t send her a parcel?”
Hamish’s mobile phone rang. “Excuse me,” he said. He answered it. It was Jimmy. “Thought you’d like to hear the latest. At the autopsy, they found tablets of Ecstasy sewn into the hem of her jacket. It fortunately hadnae been burnt, thanks to that McGirty woman.”
“I’ve just learned she had been frequenting a disco called Stardust in her lunch break,” said Hamish.
“Good man. I’ve been dying for an excuse to raid that place for ages.”
Jimmy rang off.
Hamish went and sat down facing Percy again. “Did you say anything in your valentine?”
Percy blushed deep red. “Do I have to tell you?”
“Yes.”
“I didn’t put a poem. I just wrote, ‘Come back to me. Love, Percy.’ ”
“So she had been your date?”
“Not exactly.” Percy wriggled in his hard chair. “Annie was always flirting and I thought she fancied me. I couldn’t look at my girlfriend after Annie came on to me. I thought about her night and day.”
“You mean Jessie Cormack?”
“Yes.”
“Didn’t it strike you as rather mean that Annie would flirt with you and then turn cold when she’d got you away from her friend?”
“I was…dazzled.”
“Did you follow her?”
He hung his head.
“Come on, laddie. Out wi’ it!”
“I called in sick one day and went to the wildlife park. As I approached, she was just driving off. I followed. She went to a disco. I followed her in. She was over at the bar with some lowlife, laughing and drinking. I went up to her and she threw her head back and laughed. I said, ‘What about a dance, Annie?’ and her face went all hard and the fellow with her said, ‘Bugger off or I’ll glass your face.’ ”
“What did he look like?”
“Greasy hair, black eyes, leather jacket, tattoo of a snake on his wrist, and a bit older than her. He frightened me. I got out of there. I was determined to stay clear of her, but after a few days, I… I…”
“You followed her again?”
“I waited outside her house one morning to try to speak to her but she said if I didn’t leave her alone, she would call the police. That frightened me. My valentine-well, it was one last desperate try.”
“Did you see her with any other man, other than this fellow at the disco?”
He shook his head.
“Did you know she took drugs?”
Percy looked shocked. “She couldn’t, she wouldn’t…”
“She did,” said Hamish flatly. “I’ll be talking to you again.”
Out in the hall again, Hamish said, “Back to Jessie.”
“How did you know she took drugs?” asked Josie.
Hamish told her what Jimmy Anderson had said. He opened the door to Jessie’s office. She was sitting at her computer typing busily.
“Stop for a minute,” ordered Hamish. “Did you know that Annie took drugs?”
“No!”
“Never talked about it? Never hinted?”
“Not a word.”
“I’ll be back to see you. Here’s my card. If you can think of anything, phone me up. There may be something you’ve forgotten.”
* * *
Hamish dropped Josie off at her car. “I’m going back to Lochdubh,” he said. “You may as well get home and change. Take it easy. The snow’s still light but it could get heavy any moment.”
Josie drove off, peering through the windscreen as the hypnotic flakes swirled and danced in front of her. At the manse, she changed into civilian clothes and brushed down her uniform and then went down to the kitchen to borrow an iron and an ironing board from Mrs. Wellington.
“You’ve had an exciting day,” said the minister’s wife. “Hamish is quite the hero. I saw him on the television rescuing that lion. Were you frightened?”
“All in the day’s work,” said Josie.
Chapter Four
*
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.
– W. B. Yeats
Jimmy called at the police station that evening. “You’ll never get back,” said Hamish. “The snow’s coming down thick and fast.”
“You may as well put me up for the night,” said Jimmy. “I’ve got to be in Braikie first thing in the morning. What a waste of time. We raided the disco. Clean as a whistle.”
“I might go over there myself tomorrow for the lunchtime session,” said Hamish. “I’m looking for someone called Jake.”
“You’ve been on the telly. Everyone will recognise you.”
“I’ll go in disguise.”
“You’ll be poaching on Blair’s territory.”
“Then don’t tell him.”
“So what do you do if you find Jake?”
“Try to find out where he lives and give you the information. I might take McSween.”
“How’s that going, Hamish?”
“I don’t know why that one ever wanted to be a policewoman. She hasn’t a clue. Anyway, help yourself to a dram and I’ll call her.”
Josie had just finished speaking to her mother when her phone rang again. She listened to Hamish’s suggestion that they go to the disco tomorrow if the snow allowed them to travel to Strathbane.
Her eyes were once more full of dreams as she rang off. Her mother had seen Hamish on television and was loud in her praise. Hamish began to appear a heroic figure in Josie’s mind. He had said he would be in disguise but she needn’t bother: just wear something suitable for a disco. They would dance, he would hold her in his arms, he would say…
“Are you finished with that iron?” said Mrs. Wellington, coming into the kitchen.
The countryside looked like an old-fashioned Christmas card when Hamish collected Josie the following day. Blair’s desire to keep Hamish out of every investigation meant that he was not constantly being given orders or monitored.
Josie barely recognised Hamish. He had a false ginger beard and moustache and small John Lennon-type glasses. His flaming hair was hidden under a black wool cap.
She thought he looked awful.
* * *
The music blaring from the disco when they arrived was so loud that as they walked towards the club, Hamish was sure he could hear the beat reverberating through his shoes.
Inside the club, Josie took off her enveloping fun-fur coat to reveal that she was wearing a sh
ort red leather skirt, fishnet stockings, and a gauzy glittery blouse with a plunging neckline. She took off her boots and slipped on a pair of high-heeled red stilettos. Josie was also heavily made up.
They moved onto the dance floor. Josie was a good dancer but to her dismay, Hamish danced like a demented stork. A young man came up and began to dance with Josie, cutting Hamish out. Hamish gave her a quick nod to say it was all right and made his way to the bar. “I’m looking for Jake,” he shouted to the barman.
“Ower there,” the barman shouted back, pointing to a man in a black leather jacket at the end of the bar.
Hamish approached Jake. He tapped him on the shoulder and flashed a thick wad of what appeared to be fifty-pound notes. Actually it was one fifty-pound note wound round paper. “Come outside,” he said. “I’ve a big deal for ye.”
On the way out, he tried to signal to Josie. But Josie was lost in the music, her eyes closed, her hips swaying.
Outside, Hamish flashed his warrant card and said, “I would like you…”
But that was as far as he got. Jake took to his heels and ran but skidded in the snow and went down heavily. Hamish handcuffed him and hauled him to his feet. He realised if he phoned Jimmy, it would take Jimmy an hour to get from Braikie to Strathbane. He’d just need to take him to police headquarters. Where the hell was Josie? He shrugged. He couldn’t waste time going back for her, and Jake could have friends in the disco who might cause a fight.
Hamish had Jake searched at police headquarters and found he was carrying a good supply of Ecstasy and heroin. He had him put in a cell after being charged with possession. Then he phoned Jimmy.
Blair was sitting in his car, eating a mutton pie, when Jimmy told him the news. Blair let out a string of oaths, ending up by saying he would have Macbeth’s guts for garters for poaching on Strathbane’s beat.
“Maybe,” said Jimmy. “But this Jake Cullen sounds like Annie’s boyfriend, and she did have Ecstasy tablets on her when she was killed.”
To Jimmy’s surprise, Blair said, “I’ve got work to do. Get yourself ower there and keep in touch.”
The owner of Stardust, Barry Fitzcameron, was a friend of Blair’s. Barry also owned a couple of pubs where there were always free drinks for the detective inspector. Blair had tipped him off about the raid. When Jimmy had gone, he decided to find a public phone box and call Barry.
