“Who was murdered?”
“The dentist,” said Willie eagerly, who had reappeared with a bottle of wine. “Terrible it was.”
“Chust pour the wine, Willie,” said Hamish crossly, “and I’ll tell Miss Hudson about it. It iss not as if you are on the force anymore.”
“I am sure I did not mean to be obstructive,” said Willie huffily.
“Obtrusive, Willie.” Hamish sipped some of the wine. “Yes, that’ll do nicely.”
When Willie had left again after placing a large glass ashtray in front of Sarah, she lit a cigarette. Hamish fought down a sudden impulse to ask for one. “So go on,” she said. “Tell me about the dentist.”
So Hamish told her all about the pain in his tooth, the visit to the dentist, the discovery of the body, the drilled teeth, everything he knew.
“How bizarre!” she said when he had finished. “But surely it’s all very odd. Look here. Anyone could have walked in. And why did that receptionist stay away so long? It looks to me as if he expected a visit from someone he wanted to be private with and so he told the receptionist to take a long break.”
“But she would need to know who it was and why she was meant to stay away,” Hamish pointed out. “Otherwise why didn’t she say how unusual it all was? Yet, she just sticks to her story that it was a quiet day and she had a lot to do.”
“Oh, here’s our food.” She stubbed out her cigarette. They ate in silence for a bit.
Then Hamish asked, “Was there any particular reason why you arrived in Lochdubh, or were you just wandering about the Highlands?”
“I was coming here anyway. A friend of mine in London said it was a lovely place. I work for a financial consultants in the City. I usually go on holiday abroad. But this year – well, I’ve had a bit of trouble – I felt like some healthy exercise.”
“What’s the name of your friend?”
“Priscilla Halburtbn-Smythe.”
Hamish’s poor heart gave a lurch. “Did she mention me?”
“No, she mentioned her family ran a hotel here. I said I would be backpacking, so I’d probably stay at some bed-and-breakfast. Can you recommend one?”
“There’s several in the village. They don’t usually take guests in the winter. The Tommel Castle Hotel isn’t all that expensive in winter and you’d be comfortable there. I can take you up after dinner, if you like?”
“I think I’ll do that. I’ve been walking for ages now and I could do with some comfort. There’s not all that much privacy in a bed-and-breakfast. The last one I stayed in was full of shrieking kids.” She smiled at him, a glorious smile, and the sharp pain Hamish had felt at the mention of Priscilla’s name disappeared like Scottish mist before warm sunlight.
“So tell me more about this murder,” she went on. “There must be press everywhere.”
“Yes, they’ll be around for a bit. Nothing had happened here for a while. First there was a burglary. Two hundred and fifty thousand pounds was stolen from the safe at The Scotsman Hotel and now this.”
“Sin bin of the north!”
“Aye, you could say that. Wait a bit…there’s a thing.”
“What?”
“Macbean, the manager of The Scotsman – his wife and daughter were over at that dentist’s yesterday. Damn, I was supposed to go over there today but the murder drove it out of my head.”
“Do you think there could be a connection?”
“No, but Macbean’s wife or daughter might have heard or seen something.”
“So might any of the other patients. All you have to do, surely, is pick out all the names and addresses from the dentist’s files and go through them one by one.”
“The headquarters at Strathbane will be doing that. I just interview who I’m told to interview.” And please God, Blair doesn’t find out about that visit to Inverness. “I’ll go over first thing in the morning.”
They moved to other subjects. She told him about working in London but nothing about her personal life. She did not mention Priscilla again and Hamish was damned if he would ask about her. He did not want to spoil this pleasant evening with this glorious girl.
After dinner, which he insisted on paying for, despite her protests, she disappeared back to the toilet to put her ski suit on, then with Hamish carrying her rucksack, they left the restaurant. “Just wait here and I’ll get the Land Rover,” said Hamish. He wasn’t supposed to drive passengers around in it unless they were suspects, but he would be safe from Blair for the rest of the night.
At first, he thought she had gone and felt quite dismal, but then she stepped out of the shadows at the side of the restaurant. He helped her in and then drove off. She was wearing some sort of exotic perfume which she certainly had not been wearing earlier. He hoped she had put it on for him.
At the hotel, he introduced her to Mr. Johnson and begged for a cheap room for her.
“Miss Hudson, Macbeth is the village moocher,” said Mr. Johnson, “but he says you’re a friend of Priscilla’s so we’ve got a wee room which is reasonable.”
“I’ll be on my way then,” said Hamish awkwardly. He desperately wanted to ask her when he could see her again, but felt suddenly shy.
“My turn to take you for dinner tomorrow, Hamish,” said Sarah. “Eight o’clock?”
His hazel eyes lit up. “Aye, that would be grand.”
She kissed him on the cheek and said good night. He walked out in a happy dream, a silly smile on his face.
The frost sparkled on the ground and the stars sparkled overhead and it was like Christmas. He had not felt quite so happy or elated in ages.
♦
He awoke next morning with a feeling of anticipation. Then he remembered that dinner date. But work first. He set out on the Lairg road for The Scotsman Hotel. It had the deserted, shabby air of a second-rate Scottish hotel in winter. The wind was blowing again, sending the clouds racing across the sky, but it was unusually mild. The air felt damp against his cheek heralding the advance of rain.
He went into the hotel. The barman, Johnny King, was unloading crates of beer.
“Where’s Mr. Macbean?” asked Hamish.
Johnny jerked his head in the direction of the office. Macbean was sitting at his desk.
“Where’s the safe?” asked Hamish.
“Your boys took it away,” said Macbean. “Fat lot o’ good that’ll do.”
“You couldn’t have been thinking of repairing the back and using it again!”
“No,” said Macbean shiftily. “But I’m going down to Inverness tomorrow to get a new one. What do you want? I’ve been answering questions till I’m sick o’ them.”
Hamish removed his hat and put it on the desk and sat down on a chair opposite Macbean. “I’ve really called in the hope of seeing your wife and daughter.”
“Why?”
“Did you hear about this murder over at Braikie?”
“Aye.”
“Your wife and daughter went to see Gilchrist. I would be interested to hear what they thought of him.”
“They’re somewhere about. They cannae tell you anything.”
“I chust want an idea of what sort of man Gilchrist was.”
Macbean snorted with contempt. “When you’re in the dentist’s chair getting a tooth pulled, do you sit there and wonder what kind of man he is?”
“Yes,” said Hamish Macbeth, whose Highland curiosity prompted him to speculate on the character of everyone he came across.
“I’ll get someone to find them for you.”
“About the money,” said Hamish. “Were you insured against theft?”
“Yes.”
“To the tune of two hundred and fifty thousand pounds?”
“Yes, I made a point of paying heavy insurance to cover any possible theft of the bingo money.”
“So that means you’ll be able to have the big night after all?”