Death of a Dustman hm-17

by M C Beaton

  “I’m getting ready for the sales in Lairg,” said Callum. “Thank God I’ve got the garbage job because sheep prices have been dropping like a stone.”

  “You go around the crofts and houses. What’s the gossip about Angus’s murder?”

  “They’re all shocked. We all thought we knew Angus, but no one really knew him that well. He must have said something to Kirsty.”

  “We’ll need to wait until she recovers a bit,” said Hamish. “Keep listening, Callum, and let me know if you hear anything.”

  As he made his way back to the police station, he reflected on the oddity of the case. How could a man walk out to meet someone in the Highlands and not be noticed? Fergus must have been seen in Lochdubh. Unless, of course, he had walked straight up through the grazing land at the back of where his cottage lay and met someone up on the hill.

  When he got back to the police station, Clarry called from the police office: “Is that you, sir? Anderson’s on the phone.” Hamish went through and took the receiver from Clarry.

  “I’m down in Strathbane,” said Jimmy, “and I’m a bit tied up. I want you to go and talk to that schoolteacher. Find out if Cartwright is her married name and what her husband’s name was. It’s all a bit odd. You see, I checked with the police in Dingwall, and they have no record at all of any trap to catch a blackmailer. I checked the schools in Dingwall as well, and there’s no record there of a Mrs. Cartwright ever having been employed as a teacher.”

  “Why would she lie?”

  “That’s something you’d better find out, and quick, too.”

  “Why’s Blair leaving me in peace? It hasn’t ever mattered before what Daviot said. He likes to rile me.”

  “He’s in hospital.”

  “Nothing trivial, I hope?”

  “Something up with his kidneys.”

  “The whisky is what’s up with his kidneys. I’ll get onto the schoolteacher right away.”

  “I’m going out again,” Hamish called to Clarry. “Could you take Lugs for a walk?”

  “I’ve got to get some shopping. I’ll take him with me.”

  Hamish walked along to the cottage next to the school and rapped on the door. Moira Cartwright answered it. “Come in,” she said. “How are you getting on with the case?”

  He followed her into the living room of the cottage, removed his peaked cap and sat down.

  “I’m here to find out why you told me that story about the blackmail attempt in Dingwall,” he began.

  “Would you like some tea?”

  “No, just answer the question. The police in Dingwall have no record of any trap set up for a blackmailer fifteen years ago, nor is there any record of you having ever taught in Dingwall. So were you lying?”

  There was a long silence. The wind had started to rise outside, the vicious wind of Sutherland that whipped across the county with ferocious force.

  Then she said, “Yes.”

  “Why on earth?”

  “Do I have to tell you?”

  “Of course you have to tell me. Headquarters have been checking up, and they want an answer.”

  “I’m a fantasist. Anyway, when I saw the look on your face when you walked into that restaurant, I guessed you had made a mistake, that you had seen my niece and thought she was the schoolteacher.”

  “So you decided to waste police time and present me with a red herring?”

  “Yes.”

  Hamish studied her face and then said slowly, “You’re still lying. And I am going to stay here until you tell me the truth.”

  She looked at him helplessly and then said, “If I tell you, she’ll never forgive me.”

  “Who?”

  She gave a helpless shrug. “Fiona McClellan.”

  “The banker’s wife?”

  She nodded.

  Hamish took out his notebook. “Begin at the beginning and go on to the end.”

  “We’re old school friends. We both went to school in Edinburgh. We wrote to each other from time to time. I finally wrote and said I was taking the job in Lochdubh. She phoned me up. She said I wasn’t to tell a soul but she was being blackmailed and told me about it. I told her to go to the police, but she said her husband couldn’t bear another scandal. I called on her just after I arrived. She said she had told you and that you were trying to keep it quiet for a bit. But I thought, she’ll never be happy until the murderer is caught and how can you go about finding the murderer if you didn’t know Fergus was a blackmailer, so I decided to tell you I had been blackmailed.”

  “But you must have known we would check!”

  “I didn’t think the police records at a wee place like Dingwall would go back that far.”

  “The police in Dingwall cover quite a large area. They’re sharp and efficient and, yes, they keep files. How could you have been so stupid? All you’ve done is force me to tell the police about Mrs. McClellan. And how am I going to get you out of being charged with wasting police time?”

  Tears welled up in Moira’s eyes. “I was only trying to help.”

  “I can tell you this, if I don’t get a break today, tomorrow is the longest I can hold this report. Now, that criminal husband of yours. Was that a lie as well?”

  “No, I use my maiden name. His name was John Sampson.”

  “I’ll forget about him for the moment and see what I can do during the rest of the day. You’ll just need to hope I find someone.”

  “Maybe I can help.”

  “No,” said Hamish sharply. “You’ve done enough damage.”

  “What’ll I tell Fiona?”

  “Nothing at the moment. Pray.”

  ♦

  Hamish went back to the police station, went through to the office, sat down at his desk and buried his head in his hands. He needed to think things through. Angus was dead. Had Fergus confided in Angus? Had Angus, desperate to keep the croft, decided to go on where Fergus had left off? By tomorrow, he would really need to put in a full report to Strathbane, turn over the letters and put in a report about the colonel as well. They would want to see Sean, to interrogate him as well, and would wonder why Hamish had just let him go on his way. He stood up. He would need to find Sean and tell him to report to the police station in the morning. He could only hope the tramp had decided not to leave the area.

  He went out and got in the police Land Rover and drove off. He went back to the place where he had found Sean the day before and then started to slowly cruise along, looking to right and left. Then he remembered that the village of Drim was one of Sean’s favourite places, and he turned the vehicle and headed towards the Drim road.

  Once in Drim, he parked outside the general store. Ailsa Kennedy was behind the counter. Hamish waited until she had served a customer and then asked, “Have you seen the tramp, Sean Fitz?”

  “What’s he done?” asked Ailsa.

  “Nothing. I just want a wee word with him.”

  “I saw him a while ago. He’s probably at one of the houses.”

  Hamish patiently set off, calling at cottage after cottage, until he found the tramp sitting outside a house, a mug of tea in one hand and a large sandwich in the other. “Oh, it’s yourself, Hamish,” he said.

  “Look, Sean, you’ll need to promise me you’ll come to the police station tomorrow morning. I’m going to have to put in a report about the colonel, whether he likes it or not.”

  “Och, Hamish, that bugger Blair’ll have me locked up in Strathbane for questioning. He’ll hae me for being on the colonel’s river.”

  “He can’t. Just say you were wandering around. I need you, Sean.”

  “I tell you something, I’d like a soft bed for the night.”

  “All right. You know where the cell is. Come and stay the night, and we’ll deal with it in the morning.” Hamish sat down beside Sean and heaved a sigh. “I tell you, Sean, it’s not just the colonel I’ve been covering up for, it’s other people as well, and now I feel bad about it.”

  Sean drank his tea and munche
d his sandwich. Then he said, “Has it no’ dawned on you, Hamish, that you won’t maybe be the only one keeping quiet to protect people? Say someone in Lochdubh actually saw Fergus talking to someone, a friend of theirs. They wouldnae be giving you the name.”

  Hamish thought about that. The villagers would certainly close ranks to protect someone they knew and liked. But he had questioned and questioned.

  “I’ve asked and asked, Sean. Why should anyone tell me now?”

  “You could trick them. Let them think you know.”

  “But who?”

  “Well, laddie, if anyone in Lochdubh’s going to notice, it’s them Currie sisters.”

  “Come on, Sean. They report everything.”

  “Maybe not.”

  Hamish looked at him sharply. “If you know something, Sean, you’d better tell me. I’m getting desperate.”

  “Chust an educated guess.”

  Hamish rose to his feet. “I’ll see you this evening, Sean.”

  “Aye, grand.”

  As Hamish walked down to the waterfront and got in the Land Rover, he turned what Sean had said over in his mind. Then he phoned the station to see if there had been any messages. Clarry answered the phone. He sounded excited. “That friend o’ yours, Priscilla, was here. Her chef has just walked out, and she asked me if I could help out at the hotel with the dinners.”

  “Clarry, we’re in the middle of two murder investigations.”

  “I could do it. I know I could.”

  “I’ll call at the castle and then I’ll let you know.”

  Hamish set off and drove to the Tommel Castle Hotel. As he parked, he could see Priscilla’s blonde head in the guest shop. The car park was full of cars. Business must have picked up.

  “Did Clarry tell you…?” began Priscilla when Hamish walked in.

  “Aye. I’ll do a deal with you, Priscilla. You find that father of yours and get him to tell me the truth about why he was rowing with Fergus, and I’ll send Clarry up.” He studied her carefully blank face and exclaimed, “You know where he is!”

  Priscilla looked down and fiddled with some Scottish silver jewellery she had been unpacking.

  He eyed her for a moment. “I want you to get your father for me, Priscilla. I’ll have to put in a report about him, so either he deals with me or he deals with Blair.”

  He left the shop and crossed the car park, went into the hotel and walked into the office. “What brings you?” asked Mr. Johnston.

  “Do you know where the colonel is?”

  He shook his head. “We’re in too much of a mess at the moment. We need a chef for this evening. Did Priscilla tell you to ask that man of yours?”

  “Yes, and I told her, no colonel, no Clarry.”

  “What’s he done?”

  “Probably nothing. But he was seen having a row with Fergus, down by the river. Any idea what it would be about?”

  “No. I’m too worried about the chef to think about anything else.”

  “I might have another word with Heather Darling. Is she on duty?”

  “She’s left.”

  “Why?”

  “Didn’t say.”

  “I’d better go and see her.”

  When Hamish drove off, he could see Priscilla working in the shop. What had happened to the days when they used to discuss his cases? Somewhere inside her, she had retreated even further from him.

  He was driving slowly along the waterfront when he saw Nessie Currie working in her garden. He stopped and climbed down.

  “Lazing about as usual?” asked Nessie, stooping to pull out a weed.

  That remark irritated Hamish enough for him to say angrily, “I believe you’re hiding something from me.”

  “And what makes you think that?” she demanded tartly.

  But there was a certain shiftiness about her that made Hamish decide to use Blair’s tactics. “If you’ll chust step along to the station with me,” he said.

  “Why? Why should I?”

  “I want to take down a statement from you that you never saw Fergus Macleod on the night he was killed, and I want you to swear on the Bible that you are telling the truth!”

  She stared up at him, her eyes magnified by her thick glasses. Hamish stared back, his normally genial face hard and set.

  “You’d best come in the house.”

  Hamish followed her in. “Where’s your sister?”

  “Along at Patel’s.”

  Hamish removed his cap, sat down and took out his notebook. “Right, Nessie, let’s have it.”

  “I didn’t want to get him into trouble, such a decent wee man.”

  “Who?” demanded Hamish.

  “Archie Maclean.”

  “And when and where was this?”

  “It must’ve been the night Fergus was killed. I went up the back for a bit o’ fresh air. I saw them up on the grazing.”

  “Were they arguing? Fighting?”

  “No.”

  “And then what?”

  “Fergus went away over the back, and Archie walked down past the house here.”

  “Why the hell didn’t you tell me this afore?”

  “It wasn’t important.”

  “A man’s murdered and you’re the only witness for that evening, and you thought it wasn’t important?”

  “There’s no need to shout at me like that, Hamish Macbeth. I used my intelligence, which is something you should try. Archie Maclean. As decent a body that ever lived in Lochdubh.”

  “I want you to come to the police station tomorrow and make a statement.”

  “Why tomorrow?”

  Because tomorrow, thought Hamish, I bring the whole house of cards, of subterfuge and coverup, down around the ears of everyone.

  “Because I’m busy today,” he said stiffly.

  ♦

  He drove to the police station and left the Land Rover and then went in search of Archie. Archie Maclean, he thought bleakly. Archie with his tight suit and bullying wife was part of the scenery of Lochdubh. He was a kind and gentle man. But just what if Fergus had found something out about him and threatened to tell Mrs. Maclean? The only thing in the whole wide world that frightened Archie was his wife.

  When he saw Archie sitting on the harbour wall, he wondered for the first time when Archie slept. He went out fishing at night but was often to be seen wide awake around the village during the day.

  “Archie!” Hamish hailed him. “A word with you.”

  “What about?” asked Archie amiably. He rolled a cigarette, popped it in his mouth, lit it and inhaled smoke. Hamish had a sudden sharp longing for a cigarette.

  “I have a witness, Archie, that saw you up on the grazing land on the night Fergus was murdered, and you were seen talking to him.”

  “Oh, aye? And chust who saw me?”

  “Never mind. Chust answer my question. Did you speak to Fergus?”

  “Aye.”

  “You’d better tell me about it, Archie. This is bad.”

  “I wasnae going to be dragged down tae Strathbane and grilled over that dustman. I had nothing to do with his death.”

  “Tell me what happened.”

  “The wife’s been after me for drinking. I chust wanted a wee dram in peace and quiet afore I went out with the boat. I thought I’d get a half bottle from Patel’s and go up to the grazings. Nice and quiet up there. I was sitting in the heather when I saw Fergus, all dressed up, coming towards me.”

  “‘Sneaking a dram,’ he jeered. “Bet your missus would like to know about it.””

  “So I stood up, and I told him what I thought of him. I called him a nasty bugger. I said the whole village hated him. He chust laughed in that sneering way o’ his and said, “Cheer up. I’ll soon be leaving the lot of you.” Then he headed up through the grazing.”

  “Any idea where he was going?”

  “No.”

  “Was he sober?”

  “Stone cold and nasty with it.”

  “I’ll need to get back
to you, Archie. You should have told me this.”

  Hamish went back to the police station. “Priscilla phoned,” said Clarry. “She says her father will see you at seven o’ clock this evening.”

  “Good.”

  “So I can go?”

  “What?”

  “The cooking?”

  “Oh, sure. But I want you to go first up to the grazings.” Hamish told him about Archie Maclean. “Start searching. See if there’s any sign of blood. Except we’re too late. The rain’ll have washed anything away. But try to find something that might point to where he was heading. I’ll join you shortly. First, I want a word with someone.”

  ♦

  As he walked up to the Darlings’ cottage, Hamish heard his stomach rumbling. He was hungry, but this little break had excited him. Food could wait.

  There was no answer at the cottage. He stood still for a moment. He felt sure there was someone inside. He turned and walked away out through the garden gate and down the brae. He went a few yards and then whipped round and stared up at the cottage. A curtain twitched.

  He marched back up to the cottage door and called through the letter box: “Police! I know you’re in there. Open up.” Then he waited.

  After a few moments, the door opened and Heather Darling peered nervously up at him.

  “Why didn’t you answer the first time I knocked?” asked Hamish.

  “The washing machine was working in the kitchen,” said Heather. “I thought I heard something, but I wasn’t sure.”

  “Can I come in?”

  She stood back reluctantly and then turned around and led the way into the living room.

  “What’s this about you leaving the Tommel Castle Hotel?”

  “I don’t see what that’s got to do with the police,” said Heather defiantly. “But the fact is I need a rest. Josie’s gone back to the bank, and she’s got a bittie o’ a rise, so she asks me to turn in my job.”

  Hamish studied her face and then said simply, “You’re lying. Somehow I feel that everyone has been lying to me about this and that. Come on, Heather, what happened? Did you have a row with the colonel?”

  “I’m telling you, I just needed a rest.”

  “And I’m telling you,” roared Hamish suddenly, “that you are lying and God help me when I find out why.”