“They’ve gone to visit the Derwents over in Caithness. I don’t mind.”
She unlocked the door. “Help yourself to coffee and tell me what it’s all about.”
Hamish poured himself a mug from the coffee machine in the corner and turned and raised an eyebrow. “Not for me,” said Priscilla.
“Its like this,” said Hamish. “We were interviewing Jock’s ex-wife. She says Jock only offers to paint a woman’s portrait as a way of chatting her up.”
“He seems harmless enough, Hamish. I’m vain enough to want this portrait.”
“Priscilla, he’s got a record of assault. Angela Brodie had an idea that maybe jealousy was behind these murders. If that is the reason Effie was killed, then you could be next.”
“I don’t think so,” said Priscilla with maddening calm. “The portrait seems to be coming along all right. He’s just a large, friendly man. His only interest in me is as a subject.”
“I neffer thought of you as being naive,” said Hamish.
The door of the office opened, and Robin’s voice said sharply, “What are you doing, Hamish? Jimmy has taken Jock off to the police unit for further questioning, and he wants us there.”
Hamish turned in the doorway. “Remember what I said, Priscilla.”
“Remember what?” asked Robin as they got into the Land Rover.
Hamish told her about his fears.
When he finished, Robin said, “So you think the murderer might have been a woman?”
“It’s possible. I think that ex-wife of his could be capable of murder.”
♦
At the mobile police unit, they found Jimmy questioning Jock. “You see why we are so suspicious,” said Jimmy. “You lied first time round. What’s to say you aren’t lying again?”
“I’ve told you and told you,” said Jock. “I had a late dinner with Betty, and then we both went to our respective rooms. That would be around eleven o’clock in the evening.”
Robin studied Jock while the questioning went on. She could see what attracted women to this apparently friendly bear of a man. At one point in the questioning, he looked across at her and made a funny face, and she had to bite her lip to stop herself from bursting out laughing.
“You seem friendly enough with your ex-wife,” Hamish said.
“Och, I never was one to keep resentments. She’s the mother of my children. She’s a good mother.”
“So why isn’t she back in Glasgow with them?”
“She needs a holiday, and the children are being well looked after by her mother.”
“How did you first meet Dora?” asked Robin.
“Some party in a gallery. We hit it off right away.”
“Did you know right away she was a prostitute?”
“She told me. It didn’t matter. I was keen on her.” Hamish studied Jock. His eyes seemed clear and honest as he turned to look at each one of them in turn.
“You didn’t know,” said Hamish flatly. He had never trusted anyone who looked at him with that straight, unblinking gaze. “She moved in with you right away. You didn’t know until after she got you to marry her. The first assault on her was when you found out.”
Jock suddenly lost his temper. “Dora promised not to say a word!”
“The truth, please,” said Jimmy.
“I don’t see what this has to do with anything. Oh, all right. We’d been to the theatre and went for a late-night meal. We were walking along Bath Street when this hoor steps out of a doorway and cries, ‘Why, Dora! Haven’t seen you in ages. You got a different beat?’
“Dora hurried me past the woman. I waited until we got home and demanded an answer. She only came out with the truth after I hit her. She said she was tired of the streets and had seen me as an easy mark. She had deliberately got pregnant so that I would marry her. Then the bitch got to the phone and called the police and reported me for assault.”
“So why didn’t you divorce her then?”
“I was too busy to be bothered.”
“And you went ahead and had another child,” said Hamish. “You must have cared for her enough.”
“Well, I was right sorry I had hit her. Things seemed to settle down to normal. Then she said there was another woman. I told her that was rubbish. She began turning up at parties and galleries and accusing me of adultery.”
“And that’s when you assaulted her again?”
“Yes. She was making a fool of me.”
“Was there another woman?”
“No. It was all in her stupid head. I told her I wanted a divorce and if she didn’t give me one, I’d tell everyone about her having been a prostitute. So she agreed. What the hell she was doing telling you about her background is beyond me.”
“Don’t go beating her up again,” said Hamish. “She didn’t tell us much. We knew from police reports that she’d been a prostitute. I guessed the rest.”
Jimmy resumed the questioning. Jock stuck to his story about calling on Effie the evening she disappeared. He said he had then gone back to the hotel and had a late dinner with Betty. He said he had seen the American around the hotel but hadn’t talked to him.
Hamish thought that strange. He had been under the impression that Hal had buttonholed everyone.
After the questioning was over, Jock was dismissed but told not to leave Lochdubh.
“You two had better go and check his alibi with his agent,” said Jimmy.
Robin and Hamish got back into the Land Rover.
“How on earth did you guess that Jock had not known Dora was a prostitute when he married her?” asked Robin.
“People from Glasgow can never lie like a highlander,” said Hamish. “His shoulders were stiff. And when anyone turns a clear, unblinking, honest gaze on me, I know they’re lying.”
“What’s this agent, Betty Barnard, like? Oh, look! A heron.” She pointed.
They had almost reached the end of the waterfront. Hamish slowed the vehicle. A heron was standing over a rocky pool on its long thin legs, gazing down into the water. Its beak suddenly flashed down into the water and came up with a fish. It rose majestically into the air, lazily flapping its huge wings, and soared up over the loch.
“Fish sometimes get trapped in the pools at low tide,” said Hamish, speeding up again.
“I was asking you what Betty Barnard was like.”
“Very nice. She’s by way of being a friend of mine.”
“Don’t let that stop you suspecting her,” Robin warned.
♦
Mr. Johnson, the manager, back from his shopping, told them that Betty was out somewhere. Hamish and Robin took seats in the bar where they could sit and watch through the open door into the reception area.
“Would you like a drink?” asked Hamish.
“I’ll have an orange juice.” Hamish ordered orange juice for her and coffee for himself.
Half an hour passed. They were just about to give up when Betty walked into reception. Hamish hailed her.
Betty was wearing another trouser suit, a silky thing the same green as her eyes. “I was down at the police station looking for you, Hamish,” she said. “I called in at that police unit, and they told me I’d find you up here because you wanted to question me.”
“Can I get you anything to drink?” asked Hamish.
“A gin and tonic with a lot of ice would be lovely. I took your beasts out for a walk and fed them. They’re all right.”
Hamish looked at her in genuine gratitude. “Thanks a lot, Betty. They’re worse than children.”
He called to the barman, “A gin and tonic over here. Lots of ice. Now, Betty…”
“I’ll do the questioning,” said Robin firmly. “Miss Barnard…”
“Betty, please.”
“Betty. Let’s go over again the evening Effie disappeared. You said you met Mr. Fleming for a late dinner. What were you doing earlier in the evening?”