“You go,” she said. “I’ll keep on asking questions.”
♦
Robin wandered along the waterfront. The air was close and warm, and midges stung at her cheeks and bare arms. She stopped to slap at them when she heard herself being hailed by Elspeth. “You should go to Patel’s and get some repellent,” said Elspeth. “In the meantime, have some of mine.”
“Thanks.” Robin took the stick from her and applied it.
“How’s the case going?” asked Elspeth.
“Who cares?” said Robin bitterly. “I’m sick of the police. You know, I always thought policemen would be honourable, but they’re just rats like any other men. Take you to bed one night and claim the moral high ground the next. Makes me sick.”
She handed back the repellent and strode off, leaving Elspeth staring after her in dismay.
Faithless, philandering Hamish, thought Elspeth bitterly. She went back to the local newspaper office and phoned the news editor in Glasgow.
“Things have ground to a halt up here,” she said.
“We could do with you back in Glasgow,” said the editor. “But your colour pieces have been very good. What about a piece on that local copper? File it and then come back. We can always send you up again if anything breaks.”
Elspeth switched on her laptop and began to write. Her fingers seemed to fly across the keyboard.
♦
Hamish pulled Jimmy out of an interview to tell him about the postman and the hotel bicycle which looked as if it had been used.
“What are they playing at?” asked Jimmy, meaning Jock and his wife.
“I cannae see that either Jock or Dora would put those drugs in Dora’s room. Why should they?”
“I’ll get someone to check with the post office and see if there was any delivery made to Sea View that day. Get back to Lochdubh and see if you can find out more.”
“Will you have to release them ”
“I’ll need to release Jock when six hours are up, but I can hang on to Dora with a drugs charge.”
“Get the medical examiner to look at both of them,” said Hamish. “I’ll bet anything you don’t find a single bit of evidence of drugs.”
“She could have been selling the stuff.”
“Who to? It’s mostly alcohol here and a bit of pot. Why come up here to sell drugs when she could be doing a roaring trade in Glasgow?”
“Anyway, go back and check. Meanwhile, the FBI are checking Hal’s background. They’ll let us know if he had any enemies.”
♦
Hamish did not immediately head back. He wanted to walk and think. There was something tugging at the back of his mind. He felt that if he could get to it, he might have an inkling about the identity of the murderer.
He wandered past shops and pubs, lost in thought.
The sky above was changing from grey to black. Thunder coming, thought Hamish. I hope it clears the air.
He realised he was hungry and went into a café and ordered a mutton pie and peas and washed it down with strong tea.
As he glanced out of the window, he saw Betty Barnard walking past. He half rose to his feet to go outside and hail her but then sank back down. He must not socialise with a suspect. Then he was suddenly curious to find out where she was going.
He paid for his food and went out. He could just see her at the end of the street, turning the corner, and hurried after her. She went into a small picture gallery which showed touristy scenes of hills and heather. He went up and looked quickly in the window. She was talking to someone in the gallery and looking at a painting.
Well, what else did I expect? thought Hamish. Something sinister?
He heard a low rumble of thunder in the distance and made his way back to police headquarters, where he had parked the Land Rover.
As he drove up into the hills, one fat raindrop slid down the windscreen to be followed by another. Then the heavens opened and the rain poured down. The thunder boomed and rolled round the mountains and glens, and jagged lightning jabbed down on the road ahead.
When he reached the police station, he rushed indoors and switched on the kitchen light. Nothing. A power cut.
He found an oil lamp, lit it, and put it on the kitchen table and began to prepare food for Sonsie and Lugs.
He realised he was very tired. After the animals had been fed, he put out the oil lamp and locked the kitchen door.
Hamish went through and lay on his back on his bed. Lugs climbed up and lay on his feet, and Sonsie stretched out beside him. Just a few minutes’ peace and quiet, thought Hamish.
♦
Hamish awoke with a start to find it was early evening. The clouds had rolled away, and a shaft of the setting sun shone into his bedroom.
He rose and went outside to check there had been no storm damage to the outbuildings and then locked up his hens for the night.
Then he made his way along to the police unit, but it was closed and locked, and there was no sign of Robin. He walked round to see Matthew Campbell. The reporter answered his door in his shirtsleeves.
“Come in, Hamish. Got a story for me?”
“I wish I had. All the press still around?”
“No, most of them have gone. It’s yesterday’s story. Besides, guess what: Someone’s seen the Loch Ness Monster and claims to have a photograph.”
“Convenient in the middle of the tourist season,” said Hamish cynically. “Is Elspeth still around?”
“She wrote some colour piece that she wouldn’t let me see and then cleared off to Glasgow.”
Hamish felt a sharp pang of loss. He should have been nicer to her, but, then, she’d said some dreadful things to him.
“Are you still enjoying it up here?” asked Hamish.
“Yes, I do pretty well. The local job’s not very demanding, but I make a good bit covering for the nationals.”
“I’ll tell you about the latest development,” said Hamish, “and see what you think. But, mind, you didn’t hear it from me.”
“Okay.”
Hamish told him about the postman, the drugs, and the questioning of Jock and Dora.
“Can I use this?” asked Matthew eagerly.
“I don’t see why not. The locals have all been questioned, so you would have heard about this postman sooner or later. Help me. I’m tired of questioning and questioning. See if anyone can tell you anything more about this postman. All I’ve got is he was in dark clothes and wearing a baseball cap with the peak pulled down over his face.”
“I’ll get on to it.”
“Where’s Freda?”
“At the school, answering a ton of government questionnaires. She says she can do them better there than at home.”
Hamish went back to the police station to find Jimmy waiting outside for him.
“Whisky, Hamish, quick.”
“Come ben. You’re lucky I’ve still got some. How’s it going?”
“It’s not going anywhere. You were right. No drugs in either of them. No fingerprints on that cocaine packet. Does look like a setup.”
“What about the postman?”
“The main post office said no deliveries were scheduled for Lochdubh after the usual nine-in-the-morning post. Whoever rode that bike wore gloves. But there is one thing: Strathclyde police found out that Jock has two addictions – whores and gambling.”
“I wish I could go down to Glasgow,” said Hamish.
“Why?”
“To find out more about Jock’s background.”
“Man, Strathclyde police have been into it, and they wouldn’t welcome you on their turf. Are you going to pour that whisky or not?”
“Sorry. I haven’t had a day off since this all started. What’s to stop me taking a wee trip in a private capacity?”
“I’d never get it past Daviot.”
“He wouldnae need to know.”
“All right. But just the one day.”
“Where’s Robin?”