Death of a Valentine

by M C Beaton

  Hamish sat in on the questioning. To his surprise, Jake seemed quite cocky. He denied supplying Annie with drugs and denied having had any relationship with her whatsoever.

  Hamish said, “We have witnesses who can testify that you were intimate with Annie Fleming and supplied her with drugs. And don’t tell me the quantity we found on you was for your own use.”

  “Look, I’m popular wi’ the lassies,” said Jake. “I may have given her a leg over. There are so many, I can’t remember.”

  “Stop havering, laddie,” shouted Jimmy. “Annie Fleming was the most beautiful girl in the Highlands. Nobody could forget her.”

  But Jake continued to stonewall until his lawyer was allowed in. He was told to appear in the sheriff’s court in the morning. He was charged with having possession of and supplying drugs, and led away to the cells.

  Blair got on the phone in a call box and phoned Barry Fitzcameron. “Thon numptie, Jake, has got himself arrested,” he said.

  “Has he now,” said Barry. “Don’t worry about him. I’ll see to him.”

  “Where’s your sidekick?” asked Jimmy as he walked Hamish to the door.

  “I couldnae hang around waiting for her. Jimmy, do me a favour and get her transferred back.”

  “I’ll see what I can do. Oh, there’s the lassie, waiting for you.”

  Josie was slumped in a chair in the reception area. Hamish opened his mouth to blast her for having been so absorbed in dancing that she had forgotten her duties, but then decided wearily it was a waste of time.

  “I’m sorry,” babbled Josie. “I heard you arrested Jake. I looked round and you’d gone.”

  “I’ll take you back, McSween,” said Hamish wearily. “Chust don’t say a word.”

  He dropped Josie off at the manse and told her to take the rest of the day off. Looking along the waterfront, he saw the press outside the police station. He guessed they wanted quotes about the lion. He did a U-turn and drove first to the Italian restaurant where he found his pets in the kitchen, collected them, and drove to the Tommel Castle Hotel.

  Priscilla was crossing the reception area when he arrived. “Still here?” asked Hamish.

  “Leaving tomorrow. I read in the papers about Elspeth getting engaged.”

  “Good luck to her,” said Hamish with badly pretended indifference. “I’ve escaped up here to get away from the press. They probably want quotes about thon lion.”

  “I should think they’re there to ask you about the murder. Blair killed the lion story. He’s quoted on the radio and television saying the lion was very old, nearly dead, and a child could have rescued it.”

  “He doesn’t know he’s done me a favour,” said Hamish. “Too much favourable publicity and Daviot’ll have me off to Strathbane. I’d like to talk about it for a bit. My head’s in a muddle.”

  “Mr. Johnson’s away. Come in to the office and have some coffee. Yes, you can fetch the cat and dog in if you want.”

  Settled in the office with Sonsie and Lugs at his feet, Hamish told her all he knew about the case. He ended by saying, “I thought it would be easier. But it turns out that Annie was a bit of a goer, to put it politely, and God only knows how many men have got their knickers in a twist over her. I haven’t talked to the parents. Maybe I’ll try them when Blair has finished with them. The father’s awfy strict. I ’member hearing that.”

  “You mean God might have told him to bump off his harlot of a daughter?”

  “No. He wouldn’t have sent something so elaborate as a letter bomb.”

  “Does it take a lot of skill to make a letter bomb?”

  “The bomb’s not hard. It’s aluminium powder and iron, I think. But the skill comes in making the fuse and making it all so cleverly that it won’t go off in the post sorting office.”

  “So you should be looking for someone with a terrorist background or someone with a good knowledge of chemistry? What about Harry Etherington? His friends knew how to detonate dynamite. Maybe one of them’s got an iffy background. ”

  “Nothing showed up on the computer but a few drunk and disorderlies. Anyway, young Harry hadn’t long arrived in the area. He didn’t have the time to make Annie’s acquaintance.”

  “What about the wildlife park? What’s it like?”

  “Hard to tell now that the animal libbers have let all the creatures out of the cages, but if the lion’s anything to go by, I think the whole sorry place was a desert of mange and mud. Owners are Jocasta and Bill Freemont. Jocasta is posh and overworked. Bill is lower down the social scale.”

  “Bit of a rough?”

  “Not that low down. A chancer and, I guess, a fantasist. I think he sold poor Jocasta some dream of the Highlands that only the lowland Scots on the tartan lunatic fringe know how to do.”

  Priscilla frowned. “Do you think this Bill…how old is he?”

  “Older than her. Maybe getting on for fifty.”

  “I wonder if he or his father or anyone in his family were ever associated with the militant side of Scottish nationalism.”

  “There’s a point. I think I’ll pay them an evening visit.” Hamish stood up and lingered by the office door. “I suppose I’d better say goodbye-again.”

  “ ’Fraid so.”

  He moved a little forward as if to kiss her. Priscilla sat down abruptly behind the desk and began to shuffle papers. Hamish trailed out with his dog and his cat behind him.

  He stopped on a rise on the road before the wildlife park and let the dog and cat out. He knew they liked playing in the snow and they needed to run off some of the fat they had gained by mooching in the kitchen of the Italian restaurant.

  It was a bright moonlit frosty night. He smiled indulgently as Sonsie and Lugs tore through the snow.

  It was on nights like this that Sutherland became a fairy county, all black and white, the silhouettes of the mountains rising up to a sky blazing with stars. He wished this murder could be quickly solved. Then he would concentrate on getting rid of Josie.

  He called his pets, helped them into the back of the car, and drove to the park. He could see the lights were on in the office. Something made him switch off the engine and the headlights and cruise gently down the slope towards the office with the window open.

  He slowly got down from the car and pressed his ear to the wall of the office. He heard Jocasta’s voice. “I’m telling you. She said she saw you at Annie’s house. It was one day a month ago when Annie said she was ill and you said you were going into Strathbane. She says you were in there for two hours!”

  “If you’re going to believe every malicious auld biddy in Braikie, you’re dafter than I thought.”

  “Yes, daft enough to sink my money into this failure. I’m leaving you.”

  “Oh, come here, darlin’,” wheedled Bill. “You know I’d be lost without you.”

  “But you went to her house!”

  “I swear to God I never went near her.”

  Hamish thought he had heard enough. If one of the neighbours had seen Bill, why hadn’t they told the police? Was it Mrs. McGirty? Or Cora Baxter?

  He knocked loudly on the office door. Jocasta opened it. Her eyes were red with weeping.

  “Have I come at a bad time?” asked Hamish.

  “No, no, don’t worry about me. I haven’t been crying. Just some sort of allergy.”

  Hamish followed her into the office. There was a flash of fear in Bill’s eyes, quickly masked.

  “What kind of person was Annie Fleming?” asked Hamish.

  “Ask Bill,” said Jocasta. “I’m going up to the house. Good night.”

  Hamish waited until the door had closed behind her and then repeated his question.

  “She was all right,” said Bill.

  “Did you have an affair with her?”

  “What a question tae ask!” spluttered Bill. “And me a happily married man.”

  “Come off it. You were seen spending an afternoon at her house by the neighbours.”

  “I went
to discuss the business wi’ her. She’s my secretary.”

  “Maybe you’ll just be calling your wife to confirm that.”

  Bill crumpled. “Don’t do that. Look, it wasnae me that seduced her. It was the other way around. I couldnae believe my luck, and that’s a fact. It was just the one afternoon, that’s all. Then she went on as if nothing had happened.”

  “When was this?”

  “About a month ago. Please don’t tell the wife.”

  “That I cannae promise. Do you have any training at all in chemistry?”

  “Not a bit. Lousy at school all round.”

  “You’ll need to stand by for more questioning. Don’t go to bed.”

  Hamish went out to the Land Rover and called Jimmy. “What is it now?” groaned Jimmy.

  “You’d best get out to the wildlife park and pull Bill Freemont in for questioning. He spent at least the one afternoon in bed wi’ Annie Fleming.”

  “I’ll get out there. What if he denies the whole thing?”

  “I’ve got it on tape,” said Hamish.

  “Have you really? Or is that just one of your convenient lies?”

  “No, I’ve got it all right. I’m off. I don’t want to be caught poaching on Strathbane’s territory. I’ll wait for you at the top of the road.”

  Hamish waited patiently for what seemed like a long time before Jimmy turned up with Andy MacNab and two policemen following in another car.

  “Right, Hamish, where’s the tape?” said Jimmy. Hamish took a small, powerful tape recorder out of his pocket and handed it to Jimmy.

  “Odd that,” said Jimmy. “I never think of you as being high-tech. I wouldn’t have been surprised if you’d written your notes up in the snow. Come on, lads. I’ll keep you posted, Hamish.”

  The more she landed in disgrace with Hamish, the more Josie’s obsession with him grew. As he was making his way back to Lochdubh, Josie sat in her room at the manse in front of the peat fire and dreamt of becoming his wife. In her mind, she remodelled the police station. There would need to be room for a nursery for the three children she planned to have.

  It was only when she awoke in the morning with a hangover that she conjured up one sensible idea. If she worked hard investigating and maybe solved this case, Hamish would admire her. He would want her company instead of looking at her flat-eyed.

  Hamish was relieved and surprised when Josie reported to the police station and suggested that she should do some investigative work in Braikie and go round the town and try to ferret out more of Annie’s friends. Hamish filled her in with what he had found out about Bill Freemont.

  Josie looked so neat and efficient in her newly sponged and pressed uniform that he offered her a coffee. Josie sat down happily at the kitchen table and looked around. It was a very small kitchen but could be extended. That old-fashioned stove would have to go. And the other thing that would have to go, she thought, eyeing the dog and cat who were slumbering together in front of the stove, was those wretched animals of his. She would get pregnant quickly and tell Hamish that his pets would cause allergies.

  Hamish handed her a mug of coffee. “It’s odd, isn’t it?” he said in his lilting highland voice. “At first it seemed as if this murder was the work of some maniac. Now it turns out Annie was what Scotland Yard would call a murderee, someone who works people up so much that she’s bound to get bumped off sooner or later.”

  “Or maybe it has something to do with drugs,” said Josie. “I mean, Stardust, the disco owned by Barry Fitzcameron. He owns a couple of pubs as well. He plays the part of the good citizen, gives a lot to charity, that sort of thing. But when I was waiting for you at headquarters, I heard one of the policemen complaining about that raid on the disco. He said they couldn’t even find an underaged drinker, let alone any drugs, and he thought Barry had been tipped off. Because one thing I did notice in that disco was that some of the drinkers were definitely underaged.”

  Hamish looked at her thoughtfully. He wondered why Blair hadn’t jumped at the idea of being there at the raid. “Which pubs does he own?” he asked.

  “The Clarty Duck and The Stag.”

  “Interesting.”

  The phone in the office rang. “I wonder if I should answer that,” said Hamish. “It’s after nine and we should be at work. Better leave it.” He cocked an ear as his answering machine picked up a message. “Hamish, this is Jimmy. Jake Cullen made bail. He was shot dead on the steps of the sheriff’s court.” Hamish rushed into the office and snatched up the phone. “You still there? It’s me, Hamish.”

  “Did you get that?” asked Jimmy.

  “Yes, any witnesses?”

  “Only the one. Some poor auld granny has a flat opposite the court. A masked gunman came in the night before and told her to shut up or he’d kill her. He tied her to the bed. Then she said he just sat there, smoking and waiting. She thought he was going to kill her. Then she fell asleep. She said she was exhausted with fear. She awoke to the sound of the shot. Then he just ran out. It seems he set up at the window with a rifle-maybe a deer rifle-and shot Jake. It smells of a professional hit. And that screams at me that our oh-so-clean and worthy citizen Barry Fitzcameron might be behind it. We’re going to be tied up here for a good bit. You and McSween get over to Braikie and see what you can dig up.”

  “On our way,” said Hamish. He went back into the kitchen. Josie wasn’t there. He walked into his living room. Josie wheeled around and blushed.

  “If you want to examine my home again,” said Hamish severely, “ask! Now let’s get going. You find out what you can about her friends. Start off with the school. Maybe her messing about started there. I’ll check back with the neighbours.”

  “I’m sorry,” whispered Josie. “It’s just I’ve never properly seen all round a highland police station before.”

  And never will again, thought Hamish. He ushered her out and then went out to his Land Rover followed by his dog and cat.

  Josie drove miserably in the direction of Braikie. Before Hamish had caught her, she had opened the door of the spare room which led off the living room and had blinked in amazement at the amount of rusty junk. And he had just been beginning to thaw towards her. She was determined to work hard all day and not give up until she came up with just one clue.

  Hamish followed her, his mind turning over thoughts about Blair. Then he mentally shrugged. It need not have been anyone as high up as Blair. It could have been anyone at police headquarters, down to the cleaners. If Josie was right, and there was underaged drinking usually at the disco, then it stood to reason that Barry had been tipped off.

  The day was fine and cold. He slowed down on the shore road. Men were working on the seawall. The tide was out. They were working hard. He stopped and rolled down the window. “Got your funds?” he called to the foreman.

  “Aye, but we can only work when the tide’s out, otherwise we get battered wi’ the waves.”

  Hamish drove on until he reached the quiet street where Annie had lived. He decided to call on Cora Baxter first. The councillor’s wife answered the door. “Oh, it’s you,” she said. “Come in.”

  Hamish wondered at first if everything in the living room was new and decided he was looking at terrifying housekeeping. The sun shone through the glittering windows onto a glass coffee table where magazines were arranged in exact precision to line up with the edges of the table. The three-piece suite was in red leather, and the hair-cord brown fitted carpet was covered in hooked rugs. Hamish reflected she had probably made them herself. He had seen many like them at church sales. One bar was lit in an electric heater in front of the fireplace. The mantel was covered in little glass figures: he noticed a Bambi and a Snow White along with the Seven Dwarfs.

  On a round table by the window was a cut-glass vase full of silk flowers. To one side of the fireplace was a large flat-screen television.

  Hamish removed his cap and sat down on the sofa. The leather made an embarrassing fart noise. Cora stood in front of the fi
replace. She was a stocky woman with bright blonde hair set in tight curls over a pugnacious face. She had small blue suspicious-looking eyes.

  “Well, Constable?” she demanded.

  Hamish repressed a sigh. From his experience councillors like Jamie Baxter, no matter how easy-going, often had wives who considered themselves a cut above the local community.

  He stood up and approached her, looming over her. It had the desired effect.

  “Oh, do sit down,” said Cora. Hamish went back to the sofa, which welcomed his bottom with a loud raspberry. Cora sat in one of the leather armchairs, but the chair, no doubt knowing what was due to her dignity, did not make a sound.

  Hamish opened his notebook. “I am making enquiries about Annie Fleming.”

  “Yes?”

  “Did you phone Mrs. Freemont and tell her that her husband had been seen going into Annie Fleming’s house to spend the afternoon with her? I must remind you that phone calls can be checked.”

  “Well, I felt it my duty,” said Cora truculently.

  “Do you know if this happened more than once?”

  “I only saw him the one time.”

  “And when was this?”

  “About a month ago.”

  “Any other men?”

  “Just once. An unsavoury-looking character. He had gelled hair and one of those black leather jackets. I would say he was around thirty years old.”

  Jake, thought Hamish bitterly. That’s a dead end in every sense.

  “What did you think of Annie?” asked Hamish. “And did you tell any of this to her parents?”

  “First, I did mention both visits to her parents. Her father was furious with me. He said his daughter was pure and I was a malicious woman who would burn in hellfire. Annie wouldn’t burn anywhere, she was as cold as ice-butter wouldn’t have melted in that girl’s mouth. I saw them going off to the kirk a few Sundays before she died. Mr. and Mrs. Fleming put their noses in the air. But Annie turned round and gave me a nasty little smile before she walked on. I thought she was a devious tart.”