He had coffee and toast and then suggested that they should make a move.
They were both silent for most of the journey back. Hamish longed to ask Sarah if their night together had meant anything to her, but was terrified of rejection, terrified of being told brightly that it was only a one–night stand.
He dropped her at the Tommel Castle Hotel and then drove to the police station. The air smelled dusty and stale. He went around opening windows.
He checked on his hens and sheep, changed his clothes and climbed back into the police Land Rover. Time to visit the Smiley brothers.
The road was atrocious, thick with slush and grit. But a mild wind blew from the west and the sky was a washed-out blue with trailing wisps of white cloud. There was an air of false spring in the air, bringing with it the thoughts that spring usually brings. But he clamped down on any thoughts about Sarah Hudson as soon as they arose.
As he bumped up the rutted track that led to the Smileys’ croft house, he could sense those troll eyes watching him.
Stourie came round the side of the house and stood watching as Hamish descended from the Land Rover and walked towards him. Stourie was joined by Pete.
“What brings ye?” demanded Stourie.
“I want a look at your lambing shed.”
“Do you haff the search warrant?”
“Don’t be silly,” snapped Hamish. “You want me to go and get a search warrant then I will. But I’ll need to tell Strathbane exactly why I want it and you’ll be arrested, for it seems well known you run a still.”
“Chust our wee joke,” said Stourie with a hideous smile. He had his dreadful dentures in that morning. “Come along.”
He led the way to the new extension. He took a large key from his pocket and unlocked the door.
Hamish stepped into the gloom of the shed. It just looked like an ordinary lambing shed. But why the shuttered windows? He searched about but could see nothing suspicious.
“There’s one more thing,” he said, “I’ll need to be examining that still of yours.”
“Och, Hamish, we’re no’ daft,” jeered Stourie. “The minute we knew you wass on to us, we smashed the whole thing up.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
“Well, chust believe it,” snapped Peter. “We’ve enough to dae on the croft anyways.”
Hamish insisted on searching their house, but there was no sign of a still anywhere.
He left with a feeling that he had been conned. But then, was it likely the Smiley brothers, who had no contact with Gilchrist, would have poisoned him? There was no motive.
Feeling low, Hamish drove back to Lochdubh. He took the salmon that the seer had not wanted out of the fridge and poached it in a fish kettle. Then he divided it up into steaks and put them in the freezer.
The phone in the office rang and he went to answer it. “This is Kylie Fraser,” said the voice. “I want you to come to my flat this evening. I’ve got something to tell you about Gilchrist.”
“Tell me now.”
“No, this evening at eleven. It’s number fifteen, Wick Road.”
She rang off. Hamish looked thoughtfully at his own receiver before replacing it.
What was going on? Kylie’s voice had sounded excited, a tinge malicious, not frightened or anxious, and he was sure he could hear someone giggling in the background.
There was a knock at the kitchen door. He opened it and his heart leapt with gladness when he saw Sarah standing there, smiling up at him.
“I’ve brought you a present,” she said, holding out a plastic-wrapped package.
“Come in.” She followed him into the kitchen. “Don’t bother unwrapping it,” she said. “It’s a river salmon. Wild salmon. For the seer. Save you poaching.”
“Where did you get it?”
“Mr. Johnson said he had salmon in the hotel freezer, caught in the river. I had an ulterior motive anyway. I want to visit this seer.”
“We may as well go now,” said Hamish. “I went to the Smiley brothers and they said they had smashed the still. He may have heard something.”
He hesitated a moment. He wanted to take her in his arms but she was emanating that sort of hard, brisk cheerfulness which made him afraid to try.
The seer was at home – he hardly ever went out. It was not as if he had to shop for anything, thought Hamish. The old fraud emotionally blackmailed so many of his ‘clients’ into supplying him with goods.
Sarah was obviously thrilled with Angus and his old cottage. Angus accepted the salmon but Hamish noticed that he did not go to fetch his crystal, merely said, “Glad to have it at last,” and put it away in the kitchen.
He served them tea and then sat down and looked with bright eyes from Hamish to Sarah. “I suppose,” he said, “I cannot blame you for grabbing a wee bit o’ happiness.”
“I neffer know what you’re on about, Angus,” said Hamish repressively. “Now, I went to the Smileys’ and they told me they had smashed that still. I thought that new building they call a lambing shed might have been a place where they were manufacturing the stuff, but it looks like nothing more than a regular lambing shed.”
“Aye, well, that must be the case,” said Angus. “It iss the cauld day, Miss Hudson. Would you be liking a wee drap o’ something in your tea?”
“I think I would, thank you,” said Sarah, saving up every moment of this odd experience to tell her friends back in London. Would they believe there were still places in the British Isles where someone heated the kettle hung on a chain over a peat fire?
Angus produced a bottle of Johnnie Walker and poured a slug of the contents into Sarah’s cup.
“What do you know about a wee lassie called Kylie Fraser who works for the chemist in Braikie?” asked Hamish.
“Flirty wee thing, by all accounts,” said Angus.
“She says she has something to tell me and has asked me to go to her flat at eleven o’clock this evening.”
“I know you haff been asking the questions about her and the dentist and I know she didn’t like that,” said Angus.
Hamish’s hazel eyes narrowed. “So you think the idea is I go there and she’s got some of her thug boyfriends waiting for me?”
“I wouldnae think she would do that,” said Angus. “It’s not the city. No one up here would beat up a copper.”
“So what’s behind it?”
Angus half closed his eyes. “I cannae see clearly. The fact iss that it iss so cold here that I cannae think straight. Have you see those fine warm mohair travelling rugs in the gift shop at Tommel Castle, Miss Hudson? I’ve always fancied one of those.”
Hamish stood up abruptly. “Ignore that, Sarah. Your mooching is getting worse, Angus. A man can’t have a few moments’ conversation with you, but you’re asking for something.”
“Did I ask for anything?” demanded the seer huffily. “All I said was – ”
“Come along, Sarah,” said Hamish.
Sarah followed Hamish reluctantly from the cottage. “I thought he was a fascinating old man, Hamish. I would have liked to stay longer.” He opened the door of the Land Rover for her and then went round and climbed into the driver’s seat.
“I have to live with these people, Sarah, you don’t. I’ll take you back to the hotel and then I’ll think what to do about this evening.”
As he drove, he hoped she would ask if they were having dinner together, but she was very silent. In the hotel forecourt, she suddenly put her hand to her head. “I would ask you in for a coffee, Hamish, but I’ve got this awful stabbing headache. I think I’ll go and lie down.”
“Right you are,” said Hamish grimly, thinking, couldn’t she find a less hackneyed excuse than a headache. He was just driving off when he suddenly slammed on the brakes, reversed into the car park, jumped down from the Land Rover and rushed into the hotel.