by M C Beaton
He left the evidence bag at the desk. “See that Detective Anderson gets that,” he said.
“I thought the case was closed,” said the desk sergeant. “This can’t have anything to do with the murders.”
“It might,” said Hamish, and turned and left.
Outside headquarters, Blair suspiciously watched Hamish’s retreating back. He went inside and asked the desk sergeant, “What did that teuchter, Macbeth, want?”
“Just leaving a bit of evidence for Anderson. It’s to do with the murders,” said the desk sergeant.
Blair stiffened. The murder cases were solved and that was that. No highland copper was going to stop it. He reached out one fat, mottled, hairy hand. “I’ll take it.”
Once inside, he shoved the evidence bag in his pocket.
The noise of the new television set reached Hamish’s ears when he entered the police station in Lochdubh. He went in to the living room, seized the remote control from Dick, and said, “You’re supposed to be working.”
“I’d only just started to hae a look,” said Dick petulantly. “Thon bonnie lassie, Elspeth, was here looking for you.”
“She’s still up here?”
“She heard that Mary Leinster had been released and she’s off to hae a word with her.”
“Come on, then,” urged Hamish. “Let’s see if we can talk to her ourselves.”
As Hamish went out to the Land Rover, he could see a couple of tourists, husband and wife, shouting at each other on the waterfront.
“Was this your idea of a holiday?” yelled the woman. Her accent was English. “Why did you drag me up to this godforsaken hole? I don’t care if we’ve got two days left. I want to go home.”
The sky had started to cloud over again, and rain was weeping down.
“Nothing ever pleases you,” said her husband. He was a middle-aged man with brown hair, dressed in knee breeches and a tweed jacket. His wife was scrawny and wearing tight jeans, a Barbour coat, and high heels.
“Oh, get lost,” she screamed, “and while you’re at it, as our Australian cousins say, why don’t you stuff your head up a dead bear’s bum?”
“And to think,” said Hamish as they drove off, “that folks will keep telling me I’d be happier if I were married.”
“Ah, but ye wouldnae need to marry someone like thon one,” said Dick. “What about Elspeth Grant?”
“Mind your own business!”
When Hamish reached the shore road, it was to find a crowd of reporters and television crews being addressed by a silver-haired man whom Hamish recognised as being one of Edinburgh’s top defence lawyers, James Farquhar-Symondson.
“And that is the end of my statement,” he was saying as Hamish approached. “There will be no interviews. Mrs. Leinster has had a bad shock and needs to recover.”
Elspeth turned round and saw Hamish. She said something to her crew and then went to join him.
Hamish stared at her. Elspeth was glowing. Her straightened hair was shining, and her grey eyes sparkled like silver in the weak sunlight.
“Let’s go somewhere quiet,” said Elspeth. “Quick. Into the Land Rover. The others have just spotted you.”
They drove off before the other reporters could reach them. “Can you lose them?” asked Elspeth.
“Easily,” said Hamish.
He drove through the town and then urged the vehicle off the road and bumped over the moors before rejoining the road again.
“That’s lost them,” said Hamish, looking in the rearview mirror. “There’s a wee café at Craskie. We can go there.”
Once seated in the café—pie and chips for Dick, coffees for Hamish and Elspeth—Hamish said, “You’re looking grand, Elspeth.”
“Aye,” agreed Dick. “Who is he, Elspeth?”
“What?” A rosy blush crept up Elspeth’s cheeks.
“I can tell the signs,” said Dick, while Hamish glared at him.
“If you must know,” said Elspeth, “it’s the head of news, a new guy, Barry Darymple. We’re going to be married.”
“When?” asked Dick, as Hamish felt a grey depression settling on him.
“Next spring.” She flicked an odd sort of sly look at Hamish. “You’ll both come to my wedding, of course.”
“Grand,” said Hamish bleakly, thinking that all women were the same: every man they let go of ended up with claw marks on him. He knew Elspeth was hoping her news hurt him. Well, he had so many times been on the point of proposing to her and something always came up to stop him.
“Anyway, never mind that,” said Elspeth. “I suppose it means that the Palfours are going to be very rich indeed.”
“Do you know, I never thought of that,” said Hamish. “Of course, the Leinsters cannot profit by a criminal act. There’s not enough to charge them with murder, but it means that Mrs. Colchester’s will goes back to a previous one. There is a previous one, I know.”
“I checked that,” said Elspeth. “Before she changed her will, the old will left everything to her daughter. Now, there’s a motive.”
“I don’t see it,” said Hamish. “If the Palfours knew that the brothers and Tim Leinster were conning the old girl out of her valuables, they’d have gone to the police. I think Mrs. Colchester found out about the trick and didn’t tell anyone for fear of looking ridiculous—or rather, she probably told Mary and said she was changing her will.”
“So you think Mary is actually guilty?” asked Elspeth.
“I cannot believe she knew nothing about it,” said Hamish.
“Dear me,” commented Elspeth. “I thought those big blue eyes had blinded you.”
“Miaow!” mumbled Dick through a mouthful of pie and Elspeth glared at him.
“I wonder how I can get to speak to her,” said Hamish.
Dick finished his pie and said, “That one had a soft spot for ye.”
“I doubt that,” said Hamish. “She was probably cosying up to me to find out as much as she could.” Now he was away from Mary, he saw her as shallow and manipulative and wondered how he had ever found her attractive.
“That lawyer can’t stay with her forever,” said Elspeth. “I’ve got to get back to Glasgow.”
“Aren’t you staying for the prelim at the sheriff’s court?” asked Hamish.
“I don’t dare. Every woman seems to want my job and they go after it as soon as I’m out of the studio.”
“Having the head of news as a fiancé must help,” said Hamish sourly.
“I still don’t trust them,” said Elspeth.
“Where will you be getting married?” asked Dick.
“I’ve spoken to the minister, Mr. Wellington. I’m going to be married in Lochdubh.”
And I’ll be off on holiday when you do, thought Hamish.
He drove up to the hunting box, remembering his conversation with Annie, and wondering if he could have a talk with the children. They were seated on the terrace, schoolbooks spread out on the table in front of them.
“You seem to have settled in well at your new school,” said Hamish.
Olivia studied him for a moment. “You should not be speaking to us without an adult present,” she said primly.
“Just a wee chat,” said Hamish. “We never found thon schoolteacher who assaulted you. Must have been a traumatic experience.”
Olivia stifled a yawn. “He’ll turn up somewhere. All those paedophiles are registered on the Net if you know where to look.”
Hamish studied her for a long moment. He was suddenly sure that they had found out the teacher’s background and used it when they thought it might come in useful. Or had they been blackmailing him?
“I do not think you were assaulted at all,” he said.
Olivia’s face became contorted with fear. “I’ll report you,” she screamed.
Hamish touched his cap. “Good day to you. But remember, if he’s caught, you’ll have a lot of explaining to do.”
As he walked away, he was sure they had made up the whole story
. What other lies had they told?
Chapter Eight
Alas, how easily things go wrong!
A sigh too much, or a kiss too long,
And there follows a mist and a weeping rain,
And life is never the same again.
—George Macdonald
A month passed after the brothers and Tim Leinster were scheduled to appear at the High Court in Edinburgh the following year. The early frosts appeared in the mornings. And all that month, Mary refused to answer the phone and kept to her house.
Apart from occasional forays to try to see Mary, Hamish tried to go about his beat as usual. He learned that the Palfours were still in Braikie, waiting for the will to be annulled.
Then one morning, Jimmy called on him.
“Come in,” said Hamish eagerly. “Any news?”
“Only the bad news I think you’ve been expecting. They have at last decided there isn’t enough to charge thae bastards with the murders so we’re back to square one. So where’s that cigarette end you picked up in the quarry?”
“I left it in an evidence bag with the desk sergeant.”
“Aye, he confirms that. Can you stop that cat of yours from staring at me? It gives me the creeps.”
“Sonsie’s just looking. So where’s the evidence gone?”
“The desk sergeant says that Blair took it. Blair swears he left it on my desk.”
“Aha!
“Aha, what?”
“I bet he took it.”
“Why would he?”
“Come on, Jimmy, think! As far as the fat fool was concerned, the murders were all wrapped up. He didn’t want anything spoiling his moment of glory.”
“I can hardly accuse him of stealing it with Daviot backing him up. Anyway, Mary’s had to call her lawyer again. Everyone’s got to be interviewed all over again.”
“I’ll take the Palfours,” said Hamish.
“You can’t. Blair doesn’t want you to have anything to do with the case. He’s found out you had dinner with Mary and then you had lunch with her. He’s persuaded Daviot that your views on the murders are therefore skewed. Sorry, Hamish. I’ve got to get off. I’m not supposed to be here.”
After he had left, Hamish sat in the kitchen with the heavy wild cat on his lap and his dog at his feet.
Then he finally had an idea. “Come on, folks,” he said to his pets. “We’re going visiting.”
First, he drove to Strathbane dressed in civilian clothes with a black woollen hat pulled down over his flaming red hair. He walked to police headquarters and checked the car park. He saw Blair’s driver’s car parked there.
He then drove to Blair’s home, went up to the door, and rang the bell. Mrs. Blair answered the door, her face lighting up when she saw Hamish. She was an ex-prostitute whom Hamish had helped con Blair into marriage. Mrs. Blair now looked the epitome of tweedy respectability. No one could understand how she coped with her awful husband, but Mrs. Blair enjoyed being married and dealing with Blair, she found, was little trouble compared with what she had to go through when she was on the game.
“Come ben, Hamish,” she said. “What brings you?”
Hamish followed her into a cosy living room. It was clean and comfortable with a small coal fire burning on the hearth.
“Tea? Coffee?”
“Maybe later,” said Hamish. “I found a piece of evidence and I think your husband nicked it.”
Mrs. Blair did not look in the least surprised. “He wouldn’t bring it home, would he?”
“He chust might,” said Hamish, made nervous by hope. “Where would he put it?”
“Come through to the bedroom. He might have left it in one of his pockets.”
“I shouldnae think so,” said Hamish. “The man only has the one suit.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. He’s got six of them, all the same.”
“Why?”
“If you’re a heavy drinker like my man and always dropping food on your clothes or puking on them, you need more than just the one.”
Hamish followed her into the bedroom. She swung open the doors of an old-fashioned mahogany wardrobe. Five suits were hanging along with two sports jackets and an anorak. “Heffens!” exclaimed Hamish. “Quite the dandy.”
“I wouldn’t call wearing the same cut of suit over and over again being a dandy,” said Mrs. Blair. “I’ll leave you to it.”
Hamish diligently searched through all the pockets without success. He searched the shelf above the clothes but found nothing there. He went through the bedside tables, but there was no sign of any evidence bag.
Frustrated and made angry by failure, he wrenched the mattress off the bed. The evidence bag fell to the floor.
“Got him!” cried Hamish.
Mrs. Blair came hurrying back in and looked in alarm at the evidence bag in Hamish’s hand.
“Look here, Hamish,” she pleaded. “I don’t want him out of a job.”
“I’ll tell you what I’ll do,” said Hamish. “I’ll find a way to get this to Jimmy. I won’t mention I found it here. Now, what about a coffee?”
Hamish drove back to Lochdubh and changed into his uniform. He said to Sonsie and Lugs, “Look after yourselves and don’t get up to any mischief,” and then set off for Strathbane again.
Again he checked the car park. Blair’s car was no longer there.
He went into police headquarters and got buzzed through to the detectives’ room. It was empty. He went straight to Jimmy’s desk and put the evidence bag in his top drawer. Then he phoned Jimmy on his mobile. Jimmy and Blair were being driven to Braikie to interview the Palfours.
“I’ve found that bit o’ missing evidence,” said Hamish. “You’ll never guess where it was?”
“Where?”
“Caught down the side of the top drawer of your desk. You’ll now find it in the top drawer.”
“Grand. As soon as I’m back I’ll get it over to the lab,” said Jimmy.
“What was that all about?” asked Blair when Jimmy had rung off.
Jimmy told him.
“Whit!” roared Blair, beginning to sweat. “Why can’t thon bugger keep to his damn sheep?"
When they arrived at the Palfours’ home, Blair said to Jimmy, “You go ahead. I’ve left some important notes in Strathbane.”
“Send the driver, sir,” suggested Jimmy.
“Look! Do as you’re told.”
As soon as Blair had been driven off, Jimmy phoned Annie Williams. “Do me a favour,” he said. “In the top drawer of my desk, you’ll find an evidence bag. Send it over to the lab for a rush job.”
Blair hurtled into police headquarters and went straight to Jimmy’s desk. When he didn’t find anything, he phoned the lab. “Have you just received an evidence bag?” he asked.
“Aye, came in a half hour go,” said a lab technician.
Blair cursed and rang off. He got his driver to take him home.
The minute he let himself in he confronted his wife, who was knitting placidly. “Was Macbeth here?” he demanded.
“Yes, why?”
“Did you let him search the place?”
His wife looked at him in well-feigned amazement. “Why would he do that? I had to go out to the shop for some more wool and I left him to make himself some coffee. He was gone when I got back.”
Blair sat down heavily and put his head in his hands. For some reason, Hamish had covered up for him after finding the evidence bag. So now he was in the awful position of being in debt to Hamish Macbeth.
If you can’t beat them, join them, thought Hamish, settling down in front of the television that evening with a cup of coffee. Dick was watching a game show. The sound was rather loud and at first Hamish did not hear the phone ring. When he did, he shouted to Dick to turn the sound down and ran through to the office.
He got a jolt of surprise to hear Mary’s voice on the phone. “I can’t take any more, Hamish,” she sobbed. “I’ve got to speak to you. I’m frightened.”
“No, tomorrow,” whispered Mary. “Out of the village. Meet me up on Bracken Brae.” Bracken Brae was a heathery rise outside Braikie a little to the north.
“What time?” asked Hamish.
“Noon. Don’t tell anybody, please.”
“All right,” said Hamish. “See you then.”
When he rang off, he experienced a surge of excitement. Perhaps she might be able to tell him something that might break the case.
Callum and Rory Macgregor shared a bedroom. When their mother thought they were both asleep, Callum lit a torch and whispered, “Are you awake, Rory?”
“Aye.”
“Well, I’ve been thinking. The bad yins are all locked up. Thon lights in the glen were really pretty. I’d like to see a fairy.”
Rory sat up in bed. “We could maybe catch one. We’d be famous.”
“Let’s go. Ma’s asleep and I can hear Da snoring.”
They quietly dressed and opened the window. Both nimbly slipped down the drainpipe and set off through the sleeping streets of Braikie under a full moon.
“Thae tourists have all gone,” said Rory.
“What about the wardens?”
“I heard Da saying they were lazy and were probably asleep or down in the pub.”
The boys climbed over the turnstile and entered the glen. A full moon rose overhead. Sutherland is one of the few places left in Britain where you can still see the heavens in all their glory. The sky was blazing with stars.
To their disappointment, the glen was dark and still. The moon was reflected in the pool.
“Och, we’d better forget it and go home,” said Rory. “Nae fairies.”
“Maybe another kingfisher’s come.”
“We cannae take any eggs,” warned his brother. “But maybe we could see the birds asleep.”
They made their way cautiously round the edge of the pool to where the willow tree trailed its branches in the water. The leaves were turning yellow, and a few floated in the pool.
