He could hear sirens approaching. He waited until Blair, followed by the director of the home, Mr. Beesley, came hurrying along the corridor.
Hamish explained briefly what he had found and how he suspected the duty policeman had been lured away. Cursing horribly, Blair stood aside to let the pathologist do her work.
Hamish walked to the reception desk and asked the nurse on duty if she could check her records and see if anyone had visited Mrs. Samson in the last twenty-four hours.
She shook her head after checking her computer.
He walked outside and met Jimmy. “Now what?” said Jimmy. “We’ll really have the press on our backs now. You had a look at her? How did she die? Strangled? Clubbed? Poisoned?”
“I don’t know,” said Hamish. “Her face looked peaceful. The room had been taken to bits. I’ve a feeling that whoever was looking for that package didn’t find it. I’m sure that’s the reason her room was ransacked. Maybe she wasn’t murdered. Maybe she was just threatened and got a heart attack.”
Shona Fraser arrived. Jimmy was amused to see that Hamish’s features became almost moronic as she approached.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
“You will need to be asking Mr. Blair,” said Hamish. “A verra clever man. He’ll fill you in on all the details. Jimmy?”
Hamish walked a little away and then whispered, “I’d better get around the suspects again and find out where they were. I’ll start with the professor.”
“You do that,” said Jimmy. “I’ll wait here and then get some men to go around the rest of them.”
♦
Professor Sander answered the door of his home and scowled at Hamish. “I have told the police over and over again about my movements. If this continues, I will need to put in a complaint to the Police Commission.”
“There’s been a new development,” said Hamish. “Mrs. Samson, who was a friend of Mrs. Gillespie’s, has been found dead and her room ransacked. So you see, sir, we have to go around everyone again and ask them where they were during the last twenty-four hours.”
“I was here,” said the professor petulantly, “working on my book. Wait a minute, not all the time. I went to Inverness last evening to see an old friend, Mr. Beresford. We had dinner and I came back late, about midnight.”
Hamish took out his notebook. “I will need Mr. Beresford’s phone number and address.”
“Wait there.”
So Hamish waited, feeling the first nip of cold in the air. The long Scottish winter would soon arrive. A flock of rooks swirled up to the sky above, cawing harshly. Somewhere down the road a dog barked shrilly and then was silent.
The professor returned and handed him a slip of paper. “There! Now, if that is all…?”
“Not quite. Where were you this morning?”
“Here!”
Hamish fished out the photograph of Sean Abercrombie. “Do you recognise this young man?”
The professor glanced at it. “No.”
“You should. Some time ago when you were at Strathbane University, he paid you a visit and accused you of having plagiarised his work.”
Professor Sander’s face turned red. “Oh, that young idiot. Mad as a hatter. I had to get the university security to get rid of him.”
“And was that the last you heard from him? Did he try to contact you afterwards, write to you?”
“No. And if you produce him, you will see that his brain is fried with drugs.”
“He’s dead.”
Hamish could have sworn he saw a flicker of relief in the professor’s eyes.
“That’s all for now,” said Hamish.
“That’s all forever as far as you’re concerned,” said the professor, and slammed the door.
♦
Hamish realised he was tired and hungry. Police and detectives would be going round all the suspects. He phoned Jimmy. “Any news of how she died?”
“Dr. Forsythe says it looks like a heart attack. Blair’s putting that out to the press and not saying anything about the ransacked room. Should keep things a bit quiet for now.”
Not for long, thought Hamish. He was sure Elspeth would be already trying to pick up gossip from relatives and friends of the staff.
“Jimmy, I think the professor is a good suspect. I found out a student was claiming that Sander stole his book. The boy’s dead now, drug overdose. I told the professor that, and I could swear he was relieved. Now, if the boy, Sean Abercrombie, had written to the professor with his accusations and Mrs. Gillespie found that letter, he might have paid her to keep quiet. Are you checking the bank accounts of the suspects for cash withdrawals?”
“Working on it.”
“Let me know. I need some time off to think. Tell Blair I’m following leads.”
∨ Death of a Maid ∧
6
Marriage is a step, so grave and decisive that it attracts light-headed, variable men by its very awfulness.
—Robert Louis Stevenson
Hamish returned to Lochdubh and went straight to the newspaper office in search of Terry the Geek.
Terry was sitting with his feet on his desk, drinking apple juice and eating a whole-wheat salad sandwich.
He grinned when he saw Hamish. “Looking for Elspeth?”
“No, I need your help. It’s not very legal. But I’d rather you came with me to the police station and did it there.”
“Sounds like fun.” Terry finished his sandwich and followed Hamish along to the police station. In the office, Hamish switched on the computer. “Here’s what I want you to do, Terry. First of all, I would like you to try to access the forensic report and autopsy report on Mrs. Gillespie’s death.”
“Can’t you just ask for them?”
“It would take too much time, and even if I finally got them, Blair would be shouting at me to keep to my part of the job.”
“All right. Anything else?”
“There was, I believe, probably a request put into the procurator fiscal for permission to view the suspects’ bank accounts. See if there’s anything on results.”
“Leave me to it.”
♦
Hamish did not feel like asking Jimmy for any more information because Jimmy would demand whisky and Hamish felt guilty about the idea of the detective driving back to Strathbane when he was over the limit.
He decided to visit Angela Brodie. He let the dog and cat out for a run, telling them not to follow him. He felt Angela had had enough of their company.
The doctor’s wife was, as usual, sitting at the end of a cluttered kitchen table, scowling at her computer.
“Can’t you get a desk somewhere?” exclaimed Hamish. “How can you concentrate among the cats and the dirty dishes?”
“Sit down, Hamish. I can work better in the kitchen than anywhere else. Coffee?”
“No, thank you,” said Hamish. He wasn’t over-fussy about germs, but the sight of Angela’s cats lying on the table amongst the breakfast debris put him off.
“Am I interrupting you?” asked Hamish.
Angela switched off the computer with a sigh. “No, I’m glad of a break. How’s the case going?”
“Too many suspects and not enough clues.”
“Have you seen Mrs. Gillespie’s bank statements?”
“Yes.”
“So was she a blackmailer?”
“She certainly had more money than she could have possibly earned. It came in a few hundred from time to time. No large amount.”
“I’ve heard she was a ferocious bingo player,” said Angela. “Are you sure she wasn’t just lucky?”