Hamish brightened as Betty Barnard walked in. His official holiday was due the following week. He had planned to use the time trying to find out how Effie had been killed. He decided to cancel his holiday. That way he would not waste his leave, and he could maybe spend a few more pleasant days with Betty.
“Hullo, Jock, Hamish.” She sat down. “No one drinking this coffee?” She poured herself a cup.
“Hamish is interrogating me,” said Jock.
Her eyes flew to Hamish. “Why? What’s happened?”
“The death of Effie Garrard.”
“Oh, that. But that’s a suicide.”
“I think it might be murder,” said Hamish.
“Why?”
“On the evening Effie went missing, someone left a bottle of wine with a note supposed to be from Jock here asking Effie to meet him up at Geordie’s Cleft.”
“So why aren’t there still police and detectives crawling all over the village?”
“Police headquarters have decided it was suicide and don’t want to investigate any further.”
“So why bother?”
“I don’t like to think of a murderer loose in my village.”
“That’s a pity. I was hoping we could maybe spend the day together tomorrow. I was going to phone you.”
Hamish thought quickly. “Maybe just an afternoon, if that’s all right with you.”
“Okay, I’ll pick you up at one o’clock tomorrow. Now, if you’ve finished with Jock, leave us alone to discuss business.”
♦
Hamish drove down to the village and went into Patel’s grocery store. He asked Mr. Patel, “Do you sell much antifreeze?”
“Don’t stock it. Most folks go to Iain to get their cars serviced, and he supplies the antifreeze.”
Iain Chisholm was working on the engine of an old Volvo in his garage. He straightened up when he saw Hamish.
“Do you ever sell antifreeze to anyone?” asked Hamish.
“No, there’s no need. I put it in when I service their cars.”
“Any missing?”
Iain pushed back his oily cap and stared around the dusty jumble of his garage. Then he went over to a row of shelves. “I’ve got two containers of the stuff here. I’m sure that’s all I had.”
“Could anyone have helped themselves while your back was turned?”
“I suppose they could. What’s this about?”
“Effie Garrard. Herself died from drinking antifreeze. Who’s been in here lately to get repairs or servicing?”
“The doctor, Mrs. Wellington, Mr. Johnson with two of the hotel cars, and that’s about it.”
“Do you ever leave the garage unattended?”
“I lock it up. Not that there’s thieves here, but the locals will nip in and take a spanner or something like that and forget to give it back. Hamish, if anyone wanted antifreeze, they’ve only got to stop at any garage outside or inside Strathbane and buy some.”
♦
Hamish went to the police station to find Priscilla waiting for him in the kitchen. He kept a spare key in the gutter above the kitchen door.
“I’ve taken Sonsie and Lugs for a walk,” said Priscilla. “They’ve been fed. Archie gave me some fish for Sonsie, and I bought some liver for Lugs.”
“Did you find out anything more about the American?” asked Hamish.
“I invited him to join me for dinner. It was quite an ordeal. He kept taking out a notebook and scribbling in it under the table. It’s all round the village he’s a government spy.”
“Who for? The CIA? How can people be so daft?”
“It made me furious. I told him if he didn’t stop taking notes about what I was saying, then I’d put the dinner on his bill.”
Hamish grinned. “I bet that stopped him in his tracks.”
“He has ambitions to be an author.”
“Good luck to him. I’d like to get a look at that notebook of his.” Hamish looked hopefully at Priscilla.
“No hope, Hamish. I’ll bet he sleeps with it under his pillow. Any leads?”
Hamish told her about his various interviews and then said, “I want to get to the bottom of this. Blair’s behaved disgracefully in insisting it’s a suicide. I could have done with a whole forensic team and policemen helping me to interview everyone.”
“I’m afraid some members of the Strathbane forensic team are in trouble. I met Matthew on the road here, and he told me.”
“What have they been up to now?”
“They’d just got a delivery of those blue light things, you know the ones that bring up bloodstains?”
“Yes.”
“Well, they were using them to play Star Wars outside their favourite pub in Strathbane. They were all charged with drunk and disorderly and misuse of police property. They were even dressed up as Star Wars characters. I believe Luke Skywalker was particularly abusive.”
Hamish groaned. “I’m beginning to think that lot are never sober. I’d better get on the phone and cancel my leave.”
♦
The following afternoon, Hamish spent a pleasant time with Betty. She listened to him as he felt no one had listened to him before. He began to wonder what it would be like to be married to an artists’ agent. Then he wondered uneasily about Elspeth Grant, the reporter who was now back at her job in Glasgow. He had been thinking of proposing to her but had left it too late. He had tried calling her at various times, but she had hung up on him.
He was just leaving Betty at the hotel and about to get into the police Land Rover when Priscilla came running out. “Hamish! Hal’s gone missing, and his bed hasn’t been slept in.”
“When did anyone last see him?”
“Yesterday. He took a packed lunch and said he was going for a walk. A lot of us have been out looking for him all day.”
Hamish phoned Strathbane and alerted them that an American tourist had gone missing. Then he phoned the Mountain Rescue Patrol.
“I’ll come into the hotel and find out if anyone saw him leave and which direction he went.”
♦
Mr. Johnson summoned the staff. When questioned, they all said they hadn’t noticed where the American had gone. Then the maid, Bessie, came on duty and asked what all the fuss was about.
When Hamish told her, she said, “But he did come back!”
“When?”
“Last night. Just before dinner. I’d been taking a tray up to poor Mrs. Tabolt, who’s feeling poorly. She’s in the room next to him. I saw him going into his room.”
“What time?”
“It would be about seven o’clock in the evening.”
Hamish phoned the Mountain Rescue Patrol again and told them to hold off the search for the moment and then phoned Strathbane and said he was about to search Hal’s room.
Mr. Johnson took him up to Hal’s room. The door wasn’t locked. Hamish went in. The bed was made up and obviously hadn’t been slept in. Lots of clothes were in the wardrobe. Hamish searched every bit of the room, looking for Hal’s notebook, but it was nowhere to be found.
“Let’s check if his car is outside. He may have decided to drive somewhere,” said Hamish.
But Hal’s car was in the car park.
Hamish began to feel nervous. That wretched notebook, he thought. He phoned Strathbane once again and said he would need a team up to help him search. He knew they would turn out for a missing American tourist where they wouldn’t budge for a local artist.
He went out into the moors around the hotel, calling and searching. At last, exhausted, he returned to the police station, having decided to start the search again in the morning. The nights were still light, and the weather was warm. There would be no danger of the wee man dying of exposure unless he had decided to climb up into the mountains.
♦
Two local schoolboys, Sean and Diarmuid Hamilton, found the long white nights exciting. It was hard to sleep. They’d made an agreement earlier to slip out of their cottage and go down to the loch and play at chukkies – seeing how far they could skim a flat stone across the water.