“I’ll say it’s thanks to your brilliant deduction that they found out it was her,” said Elspeth.
“No, give Jimmy Anderson the credit. He’s been marvellous to work for.”
“If you say so.”
“Go into the office. You can use my computer, type it out, and e·mail it across. I’ll make up the bed in the cell. I’d give you my bed, but” – he hesitated and then went on defiandy – “die dog and cat aye sleep wi’ me.”
“The cell is fine, Hamish.”
When Elspeth went off into the office, Hamish took the dog and cat out for a walk and then returned to get dinner ready. Archie had left six mackerel on the kitchen table. Hamish cooked one for Sonsie and then fried some liver for Lugs. He boiled potatoes, and when they were nearly ready, he took two of the mackerel, gutted them, dipped them in egg, rolled them in oatmeal, and fried them in the pan.
He then put a bowl of oatmeal on the table and a block of butter.
When Elspeth came back in, he asked, “All done?”
“Yes, finished and sent over.”
“Sit down and help yourself.”
Elspeth speared a fluffy potato, rolled it in the oatmeal, and ate it with a lump of butter before tackling the fish.
At the end of the meal, the phone in the office rang. Hamish went to answer it.
“Liddesdale here,” said the voice at the other end. “Remember me? I’m the editor of the Bugle.”
“Yes?”
“Elspeth Grant has filed a great story, but we’re nervous about using it before checking with you first.”
“Read it to me,” said Hamish.
He listened as Liddesdale read it over. When he finished, Hamish said, “My, I don’t know where she got all that information from, but it’s accurate. She always was the best.”
“You sound as if you’ve forgiven her.”
“We go back a long way. Look, if you give her her job back, I won’t cash that cheque.”
“You’re kidding!”
“No, I mean it. I havenae cashed it yet.”
“That’s very generous of you. But it’s already gone through the books. Just keep it. Do you know where Elspeth is?”
“She checked a lot of the facts with me. Strathbane will be sending you a photo of Betty Barnard. Elspeth’s around and about. She’s got her mobile phone with her. If you don’t want her, she’ll probably get herself a job on the Daily Record”
“She doesn’t want to go to them,” said Liddesdale. The Daily Record was their biggest rival. “I’ll speak to her.”
Hamish went back into the kitchen. “That was Liddesdale checking your story. I told him you were thinking of applying for a job on the Record. He’s going to phone you on your mobile.”
Elspeth’s phone in her bag rang.
She took it out and went back through to the office. She was on the phone quite a long time. Then she came back.
“I’ve got my job back. Hamish, Liddesdale says you even offered to give them their money back if he re-employed me.”
“Chust a thought,” mumbled Hamish, rattling the dishes in the sink.
“After all I did to you, too. I don’t know how to thank you.”
“Let’s talk about something else, Elspeth. You’ll need to do a follow-up.”
“I’ll get up first thing in the morning and interview everyone at the hotel.”
“I’ve still to make up the bed for you.”
“I’ll come and help you.”
In the cell, Hamish said, “The bed’s awfy hard. I’ll put a quilt under you, if you like.”
“No, I’m so tired and relieved, I’ll fall straight asleep. Where are your beasties?”
“Gone to bed.” He straightened up. “Well, that’s that. I’ll give you first use of the bathroom.”
Elspeth looked up at him and suddenly clutched his arm. Her grey eyes had turned silver. “What is it?” asked Hamish.
“Something bad, something evil. Quite near.”
“You’re tired, Elspeth. We all get fancies when we’re tired. Let’s go back to the kitchen and have a dram. I hope Jimmy’s left me some.”
They sat back at the kitchen table with glasses of whisky.
“Look at the cat!” said Elspeth.
Sonsie was standing at the entrance to the kitchen, fur straight on end, eyes blazing.
“What’s up with the beast?” said Hamish. He half rose from the table just as the kitchen door crashed open and Betty Barnard stood there, a gun in her hand, her eyes glittering with anger.
She had dyed her hair blonde and cut it short and was wearing a pair of dark glasses, but Hamish knew it was Betty.
“You bastard,” she spat at Hamish. “I’m taking you with me.”
“Where?”
“The grave.”
She levelled the pistol and took aim.
With one fluid motion, the cat sprang straight at her face. The cat was heavy, and the force of the spring knocked Betty backwards. Lugs came running in and sank his teeth into her leg. Hamish stamped on Betty’s wrist and bent down and grabbed the gun.
“Off, Sonsie,” said Hamish.
“Get it away from me!” screamed Betty. Sonsie was crouched on Betty’s chest, staring into her eyes. The cat drew back her lips in a long hiss.
Hamish bent down and moved the cat. He twisted Betty round and, grabbing a pair of handcuffs from the dresser, handcuffed her hands behind her back.
She was now babbling with fear. “Keep the cat away from me. Keep it away!”
Hamish took off his belt and bound her ankles. He went through to the office and phoned Strathbane.
When he came back, he hoisted Betty upright and placed her on a chair. Elspeth left the room, muttering, “Got to phone.”
Hamish looked at Betty sadly. “Why?”
“Mind your own business,” she snarled, and refused to say another word.
♦
It was half an hour before Hamish heard the welcome sound of sirens in the distance. The wait had felt like days.
Elspeth had come back into the kitchen. She stood in a corner, staring at Betty.
Just as Hamish heard the police cars draw up outside, the phone in the office rang. He went through and answered it. It was Liddesdale. “Mr. Macbeth, Elspeth has filed an extraordinary story about Betty Barnard trying to kill you.”
“It’s all true,” snapped Hamish. “Print the damn thing.”
He went back just as Jimmy came into the kitchen.
“She was going to kill us,” said Hamish. “That’s the gun on the table.”
Jimmy charged Betty and told the police to take her to Strathbane. “You two had better come along as well,” said Jimmy. “I’ll need your statements. I’d think you’d want to be in on the questioning, Hamish.”
♦
At Strathbane, Jimmy sat in an interview room, flanked by Daviot himself. Hamish sat quietly in one corner. Once the interview tape was put into the machine, Jimmy began the questioning.
“We have you for the murder of Hal Addenfest and the attempted murder of PC Hamish Macbeth and Miss Elspeth Grant, so you may as well start by telling us why you killed Effie Garrard.”
There was a long silence. Then she said harshly, “May I smoke?”
Jimmy nodded and slid a packet of cigarettes and lighter over to her. She lit one, blew smoke, and leaned back. “Funny,” she said, “I gave these cancer sticks up years ago. Oh, why not?”
“Jock and I had an affair. He said he loved me, and at that time, he was telling the truth. Then he began to cool. I told him unless he divorced Dora, I wouldn’t represent him any more. Furthermore, I had lent him money for his gambling debts, and I said I would demand repayment. So he divorced Dora, but he kept making excuses. But the affair continued.” Her voice suddenly trembled. “I was so terribly in love with him.