They walked together to the restaurant, where Sandra gave the girl a description of Jaime and said they had been dining together the evening before and she wanted to find him.
She gloomily expected to be told to come back later when the waiter who had served them would be on duty but the girl, after questioning the staff, said that Jaime worked at the Chile Modes clothing company. Sandra asked for the address and waited impatiently. The girl finally came back with a slip of paper with the address on it. Sandra tipped her and walked with her back to the hotel, where she bought a map of the city.
She then wandered down the boulevard until she found a shop selling tourist souvenirs. Sandra bought a baseball cap and then saw they had a display of souvenir knives. She bought the one with the longest blade.
Returning to the hotel, she asked the concierge to hire her a car, asking for a four-wheel drive as she said she would like to see some of the country. When she paid for the hire and deposit, she had very little money left.
In Guildford, Sandra had taken the advanced driving test. She had often driven her husband when they were abroad on holidays. The car had a sat-nav, so she followed the directions and soon found herself in an industrial park on the outskirts of the city.
Chile Modes was in a low building at the back of the estate. She sat and waited, watching small delivery vans come and go, the new baseball cap pulled down over her eyes. Her heart sank as she realised that Jaime had probably disappeared with the money. He would expect her to have called the police.
But suddenly she saw Jaime emerge from the building, and he was carrying her travel bag. He was shouting something at a burly man and then gave him the finger.
Jacking in his job, thought Sandra, with a rising feeling of excitement. Jaime got onto a battered Vespa after strapping the travel bag to the back of the seat. She ducked down as he roared past her. Sandra swung the car round and followed in pursuit. She hoped he would not go back into the centre of the city—following a Vespa, which could nip in and out of the heavy traffic, would be difficult—but he drove off into the countryside along a dusty road. The magnificence of the Andes loomed in the distance.
She looked cautiously in her rearview mirror. Apart from the two of them, the road was empty. Sandra put her foot down on the accelerator, raced forward, swerved as she came alongside him, and sent him flying into the ditch, where he lay stunned.
She got down from her vehicle. Quickly she unstrapped the travel bag and threw it into her car. Jaime came stumbling up onto the road. He drew a knife out of his boot. His eyes were gleaming with rage. Sandra thought of prison and all because of this idiot. He brandished the knife.
“Give me the money,” he said.
“All right,” said Sandra with deceptive mildness. She leaned into the car but picked up a tyre iron, thinking quickly that if she engaged in a knife fight with Jaime, she would lose. She threw the bag in his face and then lunged forward and smashed the tyre iron down on his head with all her force.
Then she stood back, panting, looking desperately to right and left. His head was a mass of blood. She forced herself to feel for a pulse but found none. Sandra put down the backseats in the car and, with a superhuman effort, shoved his body in.
Heading toward the city, she stopped at a wayside stall which was selling shawls and bought two. She covered Jaime’s body and drove off. Now the problem was to dump the body somewhere it wouldn’t be found until she was well clear of the country.
She passed a tavern which was little more than a shack; a little farther on was a building site. The men must be on their break. They had been laying the foundations of a building and cement had been poured into an oblong square, shaded with a plastic covering on poles.
Sandra got out. She knelt down and felt the cement. It was wet. She dragged the body out of the car and tumbled it into the cement. Would it be deep enough? Jaime lay lifeless, and then the body slowly disappeared from view.
Spotting a barrel of water at the side with a ladle next to it, she ladled a scoop of water over the cement to smooth out any disturbance on the surface. It wasn’t perfect but she hoped the workers would think they’d made a sloppy job or that some animal had fallen in.
Sandra wasn’t worried about the Vespa. She shrewdly guessed that someone would steal it before nightfall.
When she returned to the hotel, after scrubbing out the inside of the car and then taking it through a car wash, she checked out.
As she drove steadily north out of Santiago, she suddenly remembered her husband saying, “What I like about you, Sandra, is that you’re as bad as me.” She hadn’t known what he had meant. Now she did.
A week later, Tam received a phone call from Ailsa. “Milly’s back,” she said.
“I’ll be right there,” he cried.
“Don’t! There’s something you don’t know,” cried Ailsa, but Tam had already slammed down the phone.
He bought a large bouquet of roses and headed out to Drim. Smoke was rising from the chimney. He knocked at the door.
Milly answered it. Her eyes widened when she saw him. “Why, Tam…”
“Who is it?” called a male voice.
“Go away,” hissed Milly. A man appeared behind her. He was tall and middle-aged with thick grey hair and a pugnacious face. “Who is this?” he demanded.
“An old friend of mine, Tam Tamworthy,” said Milly. She raised a hand to brush a strand of hair away from her face, and the sun sparkled on a large diamond ring on her engagement finger.
“Come in, Tam,” said Milly. He gave her the roses.
He followed her into the kitchen. “This is my fiancé, Giles Brandon,” said Milly in a low voice. “We got engaged when I was on a cruise.”
Giles put an arm around Milly’s shoulders. “We’re getting married as soon as possible. Milly wants to get married here.”
Tam wanted to shout that Milly was engaged to him but there was something in her pleading, frightened eyes that stopped him.
“Don’t just stand there, Milly,” said Giles. “Make us some coffee.”
“It’s all right,” said Tam. “I’m off.”
He walked down to the village store. “I tried to stop you,” said Ailsa sadly. “They arrived yesterday, and, och, he’s as bad a bully as the captain was. She was only in the shop a few minutes. She tried to pretend it was the great romance but he came shoving in and said, ‘Shouldn’t you be getting my dinner instead of standing here gossiping?’ ”
“I’ve got to talk to her in private,” said Tam.
“I’ve an idea,” said Ailsa. “Get yourself over to Lochdubh and get Hamish to ask that Giles call at the police station. He’ll think of something.”
Hamish listened as Tam poured out his woes.
“So you really do love her?” said Hamish. “It’s not chust for a story?”
“I’d do anything to get her back.”
“I think Prosser’s in the neighbourhood and looking for a chance to get his revenge on me,” said Hamish. “I’ll see if I can get Brandon over here.”
Hamish phoned and spoke to Giles Brandon. He said that a killer was stalking the area, and he feared Milly might be in danger. He suggested that Mr. Brandon should come to the police station immediately so that they could discuss security measures.
“Can’t you come over here?” demanded Giles.
“There are some papers you need to see.”
“Oh, very well.” He hung up.
“I’ve got to go to the police station in Lochdubh, Milly,” Giles told her. “Some bollocks about security. That man Prosser who’s on the run wouldn’t dare show his face in Scotland. These local yokels do panic. In my regiment, we didn’t run from anyone. And when I get back, we’ll go to an estate agent and put this place on the market.”