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“Nice place, Drim,” Hamish went on. “Full o’ character. I haff often heard myself saying, ‘Yes, Drim is the nicest place in the Highlands. Good place for a holiday.’”

“Havers,” said Jimmy sourly.

“Always the outstretched hand of welcome,” said Hamish dreamily. “That’s when the locals aren’t heaving bricks through people’s windows.”

Jimmy stopped sharpening the axe. “I had nothing to do wi’ that,” he said.

“Who did?”

“Och, who knows or cares? We don’t need strangers here.”

“No? Aye, I suppose you all love each other that much. Neffer the hard word. Come off it, Jimmy. This place is a hotbed of spite.”

“That’s maybe the way an outsider sees it.”

“Well, you’ll be seeing a lot of me. Get used to it.”

Hamish walked off. The one person who would speak to him was Heather. But he would need to wait until she came home from school.

He headed down to the manse. Annie Duncan answered the door. “I was expecting you,” she said. “Come in.”

Hamish looked at her appreciatively. She wore no make-op but her skin had a good colour and her long brown hair shove with health.

“Do you know why I am in Drim?” he asked.

“Oh, yes,” she said calmly. “It’s because of Betty Baxter’s death. You think it might be murder.”

“Yes, but I am also worried about the disappearance of Peter Hynd.”

“But surely there is no mystery about that? He took his car and all his things.”

“But no one saw him go. Did you?”

She shook her head and then said, “If he left in the middle of the night, no one would see him, would they? Everyone in this village sleeps like the dead.”

“What about the brick that was thrown through Peter’s window?”

“Oh, I can tell you about that. That was the men of the village led by that great big idiot, Jock Kennedy. They were trying to scare him out of the village and I suppose they succeeded, although it surprised me. Peter seemed to delight in getting people’s backs up.”

Hamish gave her a shrewd look. “You got wise to him?”

“Oh, yes. At first I was charmed like everyone else. But one had only to look at the way he tied these poor women up in knots. And yet he brought some life here. At least when everyone was at the exercise classes, there was a feeling off community. I have been speaking to Callum about that I want to put on a Christmas show in the community hall. Some of the women do have good singing voices. A pantomime would be a good idea. I have already written off for a script. One can buy one of the traditional scripts and then just add in a few local jokes. You are staving with Edie? Yes, I have sent her a note inviting her and some of the other women to the manse tonight to discuss the project. It will give them an interest.”

“I’ll tell her. Now what about Betty Baxter? What do you think?”

“I think it probably was an accident,” she said cautiously. “Betty was even heavier than she looked, I think. She slipped on the ice last winter and came down so heavily that she broke her hip.”

“But why do you think after receiving a phone call would she get so excited, get her high heels on, get her hair bleached, and go out to walk on the beach?”

Annie shook her head. “It is strange. Yet have you thought all the same that there might not be a mystery?”

“I’ll believe that when I see Peter Hynd in the flesh again.”

“You could ask the new owner of his cottage. He’s turned up with his wife and a squad of Geordie builders. Surely he saw Peter at some time during the negotiations.”

“Good idea,” said Hamish.

He left the manse and made his way to the cottage, hearing before it came in sight the unaccustomed sounds of busy activity. It was then that it struck him that Drim was normally a very quiet village. In Lochdubh, people stood chatting on the waterfront and calling to each other over garden fences. The air was always full of the sound of the boats chugging along the loch and the lap of waves on the shore.

As he approached the cottage, he saw that there was a mobile home parked at the side and two caravans in the garden in front. The corrugated-iron roof was being taken off. A Stocky man came out of the mobile home and stopped when he saw Hamish approach.

Hamish held out his hand. “Welcome to the Highlands.” The man shook the offered hand, a look of surprise on his face. “A welcome makes a nice change,” he said. He had thinning hair, very black eyes, and a flat face and thin mouth. “My name’s Apple,” he said. “Fred Apple.”

“I am a police sergeant from Lochdubh,” said Hamish, “but I am here on holiday.”

“I should have known you weren’t from this neck of the woods,” said Mr. Apple. “But I suppose once people here get to know us, they‘ll be friendly enough.” The perpetual hopeful cry of the incomer, thought Hamish.

“I am interested in the whereabouts of the previous owner,” said Hamish, “Did you meet him?”

Mr. Apple shook his head. “All done through my lawyers and his and the estate agent.”

“May I see the deeds to the house?”

“They are down in Newcastle. I’ll bring them up next week.”

“I just wanted to check Mr. Hynd’s signature. What do you to do here?”

Mr. Apple twisted round and waved an expansive arm. “Getting a decent roof on. He left a stack of good tiles. Then that field out back is a bit of a swamp. I want the men to drain it so that I can extend the house. I’ve always wanted the simple life. Get this place ready for retirement. The first thing they’re going to do after the roof is to get the drains finished and put in a toilet and get that kitchen extension finished. Oh, and they’ll raise the roof so we’ll be able to have two bedrooms up there that you can stand up in.”

“It’ll be grand,” said Hamish.

Mr. Apple looked at him curiously. “Is there more to your stay in Drim man just a holiday? I mean, I hear a woman was found dead on the beach.”

“Well, there is,” said Hamish. “Look, as an incomer, you could be of help to me. This Peter Hyad was philandering. See if you can hear any little snippets of gossip that might be of use and pass them on.”

“Will do. But I’ll be surprised if any of this lot talks to me.”

He went back to Edie’s and asked if there was any hope of a cup of tea. “I’ll put the kettle on right away,” said Edie. “It’s nice to have a man to look after again.”

“I’ve not been quite straight with you,” said Hamish, sitting down at the kitchen table. “I am not really here on holiday. I cannot get Betty’s death out of my mind or the way Peter Hynd left just like that. And why would Peter leave a note and his key with Jock Kennedy, of all people? I gather it was Jock who was the leader of the men who threw a brick through Peter’s window.”

“Oh, don’t stir it all up again.” Edie looked flushed and distressed. “We’ve been all settling down again. The atmosphere in Drim just before he left was dreadful, the men angry and the women at each other’s throats.”

“But if there has been a crime, then justice should be done,” said Hamish quietly. “Now, a delicate question. Was it just flirting with Peter, or did any of the women go further than that? I found a blonde hairpin in Peter’s bedroom, and that would point to Betty Baxter.”

“Her!” Old jealousy flashed behind Edie’s glasses. “A gentleman like Peter and that coarse quean! It doesn’t bear thinking of. I…I don’t think any of them went too far. Look at us all,” said Edie sadly. “Oh, we all thought we looked like Sophia Loren while he was here, but once he went we were all reduced, diminished to a group of silly women who had temporarily lost their heads. Please just leave it alone. We’re all going to the manse tonight to discuss the idea of putting on a pantomime. It’s a good idea of Annie Duncan’s. It’ll draw us together.”