“You don’t know what you’re talking about. You ask men to help in the house, and they’ll leave you.”
Hamish was about to point out that she was the one who strayed, but he bit the remark back in time. “So what did you think when you heard about Fergus’s death?”
“I assumed he had been up to his old tricks, making some woman’s life a misery, and got what he deserved at last. But a dustman! I couldn’t believe he had sunk so low.”
“That’s what the drink does.”
“I don’t want everyone knowing about me and Fergus.”
“I’ll do what I can to keep it quiet. Do you know if he was blackmailing anyone else?”
She shook her head.
“Well, if you think of anything that might help, let me know. I’m at the Lochdubh police station.”
“Won’t you stay for some tea?”
“No, I have to be going.”
He had a feeling of escape when he walked outside.
She had had a hard time, and yet he had not liked her one bit.
He drove a little way and then stopped beside the Cromarty Firth and took Lugs for a walk. He turned the little he knew about the case over and over in his head. He would need to find out who did it quickly or hand those letters over to Strathbane.
He put Lugs in the Land Rover and drove the long way back to Lochdubh, feeling tired when he arrived and hoping for a quiet evening.
Clarry looked up from the kitchen table when he came in. His face was radiant.
“What’s happened to you?” asked Hamish. “Win the lottery?”
“Martha and I are getting married,” said Clarry happily.
Hamish sat down suddenly. “I’m happy for you, Clarry, but you’re going to need to keep quiet about this.”
“Why? I want to tell the world.”
“You’ll be telling no one until this case is closed. Blair gets wind o’ this, and you’ll be suspect number one again. Get round there and tell Martha and the kids to be quiet about it.” The phone rang in the police office. “I’ll get that,” said Hamish. “Off you go now!”
Hamish ran into the office and picked up the phone. At first he could not make out anything but a screaming babble coming over from the other end. Then he made out a woman’s voice shouting, “It wass the dog. You brought the evil.”
“Kirsty!” he said with a stab of alarm. “What’s happened?”
“He’s dead!” she screamed.
“What happened?”
Her voice sank to a whimper. “Blood. Blood everywhere.”
“I’ll be right there.” Hamish slammed down the phone and fled out to the Land Rover.
His heart was beating hard. If this turned out to be another murder, he would need to hand those letters over. He phoned to Strathbane from the Land Rover and reported a suspected murder, hoping all the time that it would turn out to be an accident.
The Land Rover bumped over the heathery track leading to Angus Ettrik’s croft. He parked outside the cottage. The door was open. He went inside. Kirsty Ettrik was sitting on the kitchen floor, cradling her husband’s bloody head in her hands and keening.
“Get away from him, Kirsty,” ordered Hamish, “and let me have a look.”
He knelt down on the floor and felt for Augus’s pulse. No life. No life at all.
He pulled out his mobile and called Strathbane again and reported a murder. He called for an ambulance, and then called Dr. Brodie and told him to come quickly. Then he took Kirsty by the shoulders and lifted her up onto a chair.
“When did you find him?” he asked.
Between sobs, she choked out that she had gone into the village to do some shopping and had returned and found him lying on the kitchen floor.
Dr. Brodie was the first to arrive. He examined Angus and then shook his head. “A murderous blow,” he said.
“Do something about Kirsty then,” said Hamish. “She’s falling apart with shock.”
While the doctor attended to Kirsty, Hamish had a look around the flagged kitchen. A bottle of whisky was open on the table with two clean glasses standing behind it. Angus had been expecting someone. Highland hospitality decreed that the whisky bottle was always left open when a guest was expected.
Kirsty had just swallowed two pills. Hamish went over and crouched down beside her. He said gently, “Kirsty. Angus was expecting someone. Who was it?”
“He didn’t tell me,” she said in a trembling voice. “He was excited. He said to take myself off and not hurry back. He said our troubles were over.” And she fell to weeping again.
“Leave her,” said Dr. Brodie quietly. “She’s too distressed.”
The ambulance arrived. Hamish went out and told the ambulance men they’d have to wait until the police and forensic team arrived. His heart was heavy, but deep inside he still had this stubborn loyalty to the people the horrible Fergus had been blackmailing.
The wail of sirens sounded in the distance. Hamish hoped that Blair was off work, but as the first car swept up, he saw that familiar heavyset figure in the backseat.
♦
It was a long night. If whomever Angus had been expecting had arrived by car, it was difficult to tell, for the heathery rough track leading to the croft had not retained any tyre marks. Dr. Brodie said firmly that Kirsty was too deeply in shock to be interviewed further that night and had her taken off to hospital in Strathbane. Blair, furious, tried to protest, but Dr. Brodie’s decision was backed by the police pathologist.
Jimmy Anderson took Hamish aside. “I dialled 1-4-7-1 on the phone to see if he had any calls, and he had the one, from a call box, the same call box which was used when Fergus got his call. What’s going on? Were they friends?”
“He said he had no quarrel with Fergus,” said Hamish. “This is bad.”
“Aye, they’re out combing the countryside, waking up people and asking if they saw a strange car, or any car, heading in this direction. Where’s your sidekick?”
“I left him to man the phone at the police station,” lied Hamish, who realised with horror that he had completely forgotten about Clarry. “We can’t get much further, it seems to me, until the wife recovers enough to speak to us.”
“Did you find anything over at Dingwall?”
Hamish realised in that moment that he would need to let something out. He hoped Annie Robinson would forgive him.
“Blackmail!” exclaimed Jimmy. “Man, now there’s something. Say Fergus was murdered for blackmailing someone, and Angus knew who it was, and took over where Fergus left off, it stands to reason we’re looking for the same murderer.”
“Aye, it looks like that.”
“So,” said Jimmy, his foxy face alight, “he could have maybe – Fergus, I mean – have been blackmailing more than one. And how would he have found out anything, hey? By raking through the garbage to see if folks had got everything into the right containers. Better tell Blair.”
Hamish waited for the inevitable. He was standing outside the cottage when Blair barrelled truculently up to him. “What’s this about that woman over in Invergordon?” he snarled. “Where’s your report?”
“I had just got back and wass going to type it up,” said Hamish, “when I got the call from Kirsty.”
“You get back down there and start typing. I want all of it. We’ll pull her in for questioning.”
Hamish drove off. His heart was heavy. Just because he had not liked Annie Robinson, just because she did not live in Lochdubh, he had turned her over to the police.
Clarry was just returning to the police station when Hamish drove up. “Get yourself up to Angus Ettrik’s,” said Hamish. “He’s been murdered. See if they need you.”