by M C Beaton
“Yes, Daddy,” said Hamish. “I’m right grateful. But before that, could you go outside and see if they’ve got that diver? I’m still feeling a bit cold, and I don’t want to go outside yet.”
After a long while, Dick came back with Jimmy. Hamish explained what had happened.
“I’m waiting for the police divers,” said Jimmy. “How did you manage to escape?”
“I kicked him,” said Hamish. He knew that any mention of the dagger would lead to endless paperwork and endless enquiries. Blair would try to get him accused of culpable homicide.
“He could have got out of the loch on the other side and made his way off through the forestry,” said Dick.
“Fern said, ‘They made me do it,’” said Hamish. “How is she?”
“By the time she got to the hospital, she was hanging on by a thread. The way I look at it,” said Jimmy, “whoever ‘they’ are, they forced her into that loch. Somehow, they blame you for the whole thing coming apart. We’ll need to hope she recovers. When you’re feeling better, send over your report.”
The dead body of the diver was caught in a strong current as the tide went out, and pulled out to sea. When the tide turned, the body was carried towards the cliffs at the entrance to the loch. There giant waves hammered it time and again against the cliffs and jagged rocks, before turning again and dragging the remains back out to sea.
Fern Palfour died in hospital without saying another word. Britain from the north to the south was scoured for the missing Palfours, but without success. For a week, the press besieged the police station in Lochdubh before finally giving up. Hamish had been ordered by Daviot to stay indoors and not to speak to them.
The Sutherland weather performed one of its changes as the wind moved round to the west and brought mild weather.
It was sheer desperation that prompted Hamish Macbeth to pay a visit on the seer Angus Macdonald. He did not believe in Angus’s second sight, but knew he had a vast fund of knowledge of the area.
He bought a packet of good coffee from Patel’s and set off up the brae to the seer’s, rubbing repellent on his face and neck, for the milder weather had brought the midges out again. He marvelled at their survival, wondering how the hard frost hadn’t killed them off.
“What brings ye, Hamish?” said Angus, opening the door to him and then ushering him in.
“You’re the seer. You’re supposed to know,” said Hamish, sitting down in a chair by the peat fire where a blackened kettle on a chain hung over the flames. Angus had a perfectly good electric kettle in the kitchen, but he liked to create an old-fashioned atmosphere for visitors.
“Stop joking and tell me,” said Angus, lowering himself into a battered armchair opposite and stroking his long grey beard.
Hamish handed him the packet of coffee, which Angus took with an appreciative grunt.
“It’s like this,” said Hamish. “We’ve searched high and low for the missing Palfours. You’ve a grand knowledge of the county. Can you think of any old building or ruin we might not have searched?”
Angus sat for a long time in silence while the rising wind howled around the old cottage like a banshee.
Then he closed his eyes. At last he said in a low crooning voice, “Between here and Lairg there’s a ruined cottage. Belonged a long time ago to a shepherd. It has a cellar.”
“Where precisely is this cottage?” demanded Hamish.
Angus opened his eyes. “I cannae see any mair.”
“It’s a damn long way between here and Lairg,” snapped Hamish. “Och, you’re a waste o’ time.”
He got up to leave.
“Go carefully,” said Angus. “Death is stalking ye.”
Hamish stood for a moment by the doorway, suddenly uneasy. Then he shrugged and left.
“Old fraud,” he muttered angrily as he set off down the brae. On the other hand, he thought wearily, I’ve nothing else.
At the police station, to his surprise, lazy Dick offered to go with him. “Nothing on television?” asked Hamish.
“Truth is, I’m right sick o’ television,” said Dick.
With Sonsie and Lugs in the back of the Land Rover, they set off. Hamish drove steadily and slowly, looking to right and left. They reached a stretch of road where the pillared mountains rose on one side; there was moorland on the other, with the River Oykel winding through it.
“Stop!” cried Dick suddenly.
Hamish screeched to a halt. Lugs barked and Sonsie hissed with alarm. “Over there,” said Dick, “by that stand o’ trees.”
Hamish’s eyes followed his pointing finger. “Och, Dick, thon is too much o’ a ruin.”
“But you said you were looking for a cellar,” protested Dick.
“What would a shepherd be doing with a cellar?” grumbled Hamish. “Oh, well, come on. May as well have a look.”
The wind was hissing through the heather as they walked towards the ruin with Sonsie and Lugs scampering after them.
The building was roofless, and the back wall and one on the right-hand side had disappeared. Locals at one time had probably come to take away the slates and stones for another building, thought Hamish.
“Nothing here,” said Dick. “This place fair gies me the creeps. Let’s go.”
“Wait!” urged Hamish. He took a torch from his belt and shone it on a pile of stones, then on the floor. “These stones have been moved recently,” he said. “Help me move them.” The old cottage had been built from stones, hammered into shape.
With Dick mumbling and cursing, they carried stone after stone to one side.
“There’s a door,” exclaimed Dick. “It looks new.”
They heaved the last of the stones away. There was a key in the lock. Hamish turned it, and the door swung open on well-oiled hinges. A short flight of crumbling steps led down to a cellar.
Hamish, shining his torch, made his way down.
Three bodies lay trussed up on the floor—Ralph Palfour and the children. Olivia and Charles had rolled together for warmth. Hamish felt Ralph Palfour’s neck and wrist for a pulse. “He’s dead,” he said bitterly. He then inspected Olivia and got a faint pulse; the same with Charles. He cut the ropes that bound them.
“We might be able to save these two,” he said urgently. “I’ll phone for police and ambulance. You’ll find rugs, a flask of brandy, and my rifle in the back. Bring all the stuff here.”
“You shoudnae be carrying a weapon without permission.”
“I don’t give a toss,” howled Hamish. “Get it. I don’t want to be here unarmed in case they come back.”
When Dick returned, he wrapped the children in rugs and tried to force a little brandy between their lips.
“I think I’m losing them,” he said. “Will that ambulance never arrive?”
Then, to his relief, he heard the sound of a helicopter overhead and Dick outside, shouting and yelling.
Hamish stuffed his rifle down his trouser leg and waited anxiously, letting out a sigh of relief as two men from Mountain Rescue clattered down the stairs with a stretcher.
A police helicopter then arrived with Jimmy, three police officers, and Annie Williams.
“Annie had better go to the hospital with the children,” said Hamish.
“Is Palfour dead?”
“Yes. I think it was cold and starvation. I don’t know how those children managed to survive. Where’s Blair?”
“Day off. Scenes of crimes’ll be here soon. Is that a flask?”
“Aye.”
“Gimme a slug. Let’s get outside or we’ll be accused of compromising a crime scene.”
Hamish made his way awkwardly up the stairs. “What’s up with your leg?” asked Jimmy.
“I think I injured it in the loch,” said Hamish, hoping to get rid of Jimmy so he could get the rifle out of his trouser leg.
Outside, Jimmy said, “How on earth did you find this godforsaken place?”
“The seer, Angus Macdonald, must know every house, ruined or other
wise, in Sutherland.”
“Good work, Hamish. Get your full report in.”
“If it’s all right with you, I’d like to get to the hospital in the hope the children stay alive.”
“All right.”
“Which hospital?”
“Strathbane.”
Watched suspiciously by Jimmy, Hamish limped towards the Land Rover. He went around the side where he was sheltered from Jimmy’s view, took out the rifle, and put it beside Dick in the passenger seat. Then he whistled for his pets and got them in the back.
“We’ll drop this rifle off at the station,” said Hamish, “and then we’ll get to the hospital in Strathbane.”
The Palfour children were suffering from malnutrition and hypothermia. They were both in a private room in hospital with tubes attached to them.
Hamish sat on a bench outside with Annie Williams. They were told that if the siblings showed good signs of recovery, then they could try to speak to them. Blair joined them, fell asleep, woke up after an hour, and said he was going home but would be back in the morning.
Hamish felt obscurely relieved that Annie’s company did not trouble him in any way. He felt that if the Palfour children talked to anyone, they would talk to her.
Two policemen were on guard outside their room. They had orders to supervise any member of the medical staff who entered the room in case someone decided to masquerade as a doctor and silence the children.
At two in the morning, Hamish and Annie had fallen asleep when the fire alarm went off.
Hamish and Annie awoke. There was a smell of smoke in the air. Two hospital porters and a nurse went into the children’s room.
Hamish followed by Annie rushed in after them. “Get out o’ here!” roared Hamish. “I think it’s a trick. Leave them!”
The two policemen on guard followed him in. “Shut the door,” ordered Hamish, “and all of us into the bathroom. There’s no smoke in here.”
They crowded into the adjoining bathroom. Hamish left the door open a crack.
“I hope you’re right,” muttered Annie. “We might all go up in flames.”
“We’ll go down in flames if anything happens to them,” said Hamish.
He applied his eye to the crack in the door. A figure in a white coat entered, looked around, and approached the bed.
Hamish darted out and seized the man. He fought furiously until he was overwhelmed by Hamish, Annie, and the two police guards.
He was a tall man with glasses. Hamish clipped the handcuffs on him, read him his rights, charging him with attempted murder after finding a syringe in his pocket.
All the prisoner would say was, “No comment.” Hamish phoned police headquarters and waited until a tired and rumpled Jimmy arrived with other detectives to take the man into custody.
“I think you might find he was the one who poisoned those two prisoners,” said Hamish.
The fire had been a false alarm. Someone had set fire to a bundle of newspapers in a wastepaper bucket at the end of the corridor.
Hamish and Annie continued their vigil, both finally falling asleep again, not waking until eight in the morning.
Dick appeared, bearing a tray with cardboard containers of coffee and two bacon rolls. “Thought you might be hungry,” he said. “I brought you an electric razor as well.”
“I’ll go and wash and shave after I’ve drunk this coffee,” said Hamish. “Come and get me if it looks as if either of the children is awake.”
He had just finished shaving when Dick put his head round the door and said, “They’re awake. The doctor says we can have a quick word.”
Hamish hurried back. Annie was already in the hospital room, sitting between the beds, holding a tape recorder.
“What happened?” Annie was asking gently.
Olivia replied in a faint voice. “Mum said we were moving to a new house and we had to hurry. I don’t know where we were when we were forced off the road. They took us to that cellar and tied us up and left us. They were speaking some foreign language but then I heard one say in English, ‘Leave them to rot.’ We all shouted and shouted until we were too weak to shout any more.” She began to cry.
“That’s quite enough for now,” said a doctor who had been supervising the interview. He hustled them out of the room.
Outside, he said, “They had better be left in peace for the rest of the day. I would like a psychiatrist to see them. The poor lambs have to be told at some point that both their parents are dead.”
Hamish and Annie were joined at that point by Blair and Jimmy. Blair was furious. The prisoner who had tried to kill the children was refusing to talk despite a long night of questioning. But they had taken his fingerprints, said Jimmy, and he was a John Witherspoon from Dingwall with a long list of previous convictions for drug dealing. The syringe contained a massive dose of thallium.
Blair stumped off. Jimmy said, “There’s a posse from MI6 flying up. Blair’s desperate to take the credit.”
“Let him,” said Hamish who had a fear of being promoted and forced out of his police station. He often wondered how long he could stay on in Lochdubh. Proposals were afoot to close police stations from Beauly to Betty Hill.
“What now?” asked Annie when Jimmy had left.
“I think we should get some sleep,” said Hamish. “There’s nothing more we can do today.”
Chapter Eleven
Mammon led them on,
Mammon, the least erected spirit that fell
From heaven, for even in heaven his looks and thoughts
Were always downward bent, admiring more
The riches of heaven’s pavement, trodden gold,
Than aught divine or holy else enjoyed
In vision beatific
—John Milton
Hamish was awakened in the early afternoon by Dick shaking him. “Jimmy wants us over in Strathbane,” he said. “Witherspoon’s cracked.”
Hamish hurriedly washed and dressed and put on his uniform. He told the dog and cat to stay and set off for Strathbane, pushing his way through a throng of excited press to get into headquarters.
Jimmy met him in the detectives’ room and said, “Take a seat and read the bastard’s statement.”
“I’m hungry,” said Dick plaintively. “I’ll go to the canteen and get us something.”
Hamish settled down and began to read with growing horror. Ivan Andronovitch had wanted the land the nursery was on to build a mansion. He learned that Ralph Palfour was heavily in debt and began to cultivate him. Ralph confided that he would be rich if only his mother-in-law would die.
The Russian had contacted Witherspoon, who was in charge of drug distribution in the north for him, and told him to hire a couple of villains to arrange a colourful death for Mrs. Colchester. He wanted to keep Palfour frightened.
Witherspoon had hired Terence Rattrey and Philip Windon, knowing they would do anything for drugs. Rattrey had been an electrical engineer but, because of his drug taking, had lost jobs. Windon was the one who had crept into the hunting box, superglued the safety belt, and then lit the rocket that had sent Mrs. Colchester to her death. Mrs. Colchester had sat like a stone, staring into the shadowy hall, and did not see him. Rattrey had been waiting on the top landing, ready to pour nail varnish remover over the banisters.
Then Gloria McQueen had phoned Ralph Palfour and said that she had seen two men over at a quarry near Drim. She thought they were playing with fireworks. Now she was beginning to wonder if it had anything to do with him.
Ralph had been given Witherspoon’s phone number in case of emergency. He phoned him right way. Windon and Rattrey were promised fifty thousand pounds to get rid of Gloria fast. They were in Braikie at that time, enjoying the fact that no one suspected them. They had found Gloria in her garden with the chain saw and had killed her. They had been wearing workmen’s overalls and had shed them because they were blood-spattered, dumping them in a peat bog.
Then Witherspoon learned they had been arre
sted. He knew they had to die and so masqueraded as a minister.
He insisted he wasn’t in on the Palfours’ abduction.
“He says nothing about the murder of Mary Leinster,” said Hamish.
“He swears blind he had nothing to do with that. My guess is that she knew something and that Ralph met her in the glen and got rid of her himself.”
“Anyway, there’s something to be said for Blair at last,” said Hamish. “He got him to crack.”
“Oh, that wasnae Blair. It was the bods from MI6.”
“I’m going back to the hospital,” said Hamish. “I want to see if that psychiatrist got anything out of Olivia and Charles.”
The psychiatrist, a Dr. Filey, agreed to see Hamish. He was an elderly man with a shock of white hair and a clever face, crisscrossed with wrinkles.
“Did the children speak to you?” asked Hamish.
“Yes, they did.”
“Did you tell them of their parents’ death?”
“I did. I’m not usually shocked, but that pair startled me. Olivia asked if that meant she and Charles would inherit the money. I said I did not know, it was a matter for the courts—but people could not benefit from a crime, so the money would probably go to the state. Charles cursed me. He then said his parents were a couple of weak losers. After that, they clammed up and wouldn’t speak to me.”
“What will happen to them?”
“If we can’t find any living relatives, they’ll be fostered. I have an awful feeling they are a pair of psychopaths. They didn’t even want to know how their mother had died. However, they want to stay in the north.”
Hamish met Jimmy coming out of the children’s room. He was followed by Annie Williams. “No go,” he said. “They just look at us with blank eyes and then tell us to get lost. The doctor’s in there with them. He told us they were badly traumatised and to leave them alone.”
“Did the Palfours draw out any money before they fled?”
