I’m tired of police work, thought Hamish suddenly. I’m weary of people like Blair and Mary Cannon pushing me around. It wouldn’t be any better if I went for promotion. They’d shut down the police station as quickly as anything.
But if, he mused, I resigned, they’d put the police station up for sale. With the reward I got from the bank for stopping that robbery last year, I could put a down payment and get a mortgage. I would become a full-time crofter. Hardly any money in that, but I need very little to live on. I could do odd jobs. The locals don’t like working for the newcomers, and there are more of them moving north. I’d be free.
He smiled as he watched the diving gulls and the flying spray.
Hamish decided to head for Lochdubh. He was looking forward to seeing Blair’s face when he learned he was leaving the force. A little cloud crept up on the horizon of his mind. Blair would be delighted and Mary Gannon indifferent.
He banished the cloud and walked back to the Land Rover with a spring in his step.
♦
Once back in his office, Hamish typed out his resignation and then drove to police headquarters in Strathbane, whistling away.
He decided to hand his resignation in to Superintendent Daviot. Go right to the top, that was the answer.
Helen, the secretary, threw him a look of dislike. “You have not got an appointment,” she said. “Mr. Daviot is busy.”
The door to the superintendent’s office, which had not been quite closed, swung open to reveal Daviot putting golf balls into a paper cup.
“Ah, Hamish,” he said, “come in.”
Helen leapt to bar the way. “I was just telling this constable that you are busy.”
“That’s all right, Helen. What is it?”
At that moment, Hamish’s mobile phone rang. He drew it out and was about to switch it off when Daviot said good-naturedly, “You can answer that. It might be something to do with the case.”
Elspeth’s urgent voice came on the line. “You’re about to do something stupid, Hamish. Please don’t do it until you speak to me.”
“How did you…?”
“It doesn’t matter. I’m at the hotel. Come and see me.”
Hamish rang off.
“Now, Macbeth,” said Daviot, “what seems to be the problem?”
Cursing Elspeth in his mind, Hamish crushed the letter in his hand and pinned a pious look on his face. “I chust wondered if Mr. Blair was all right. I heard a rumour he was ill.”
Daviot’s face darkened. “That is good of you, but at the moment, Detective Chief Inspector Blair is suspended from duty.”
“Why?”
“I appreciate your concern, but it is nothing to do with you, so go about your duties.”
♦
Hamish reflected angrily on Elspeth’s psychic powers, which he only half believed in. He screeched to a halt in front of the hotel and marched in.
Elspeth was waiting for him at the reception desk, her face anxious. “Come into the bar,” said Hamish, “and tell me what the hell you were talking about.”
When they were seated at a corner table, Elspeth said nervously, “It’s like this. I’d a sudden awful feeling you were about to leave in the middle of this case. You were fed up and worried and then you felt free.”
“I wass about to hand in my resignation,” said Hamish bleakly, the strengthening of his accent revealing he was upset. “I am that fed up wi’ being pushed here and ordered there by the likes o’ Blair and Gannon. And dinnae tell me it’s a’ my ain fault for not moving up the ranks. I’m frustrated by lack o’ information at every turn.”
“I would only point out that a mere copper isn’t given all the information, but I won’t.”
“Not Irish, are you?” asked Hamish sarcastically.
“Hamish, you’ve got to press on. You can’t walk away from this. Just think how you would feel if you did and the murders were never solved. Think of the black suspicion in Braikie. They would start to think the husband had done it. They’d make his life a misery. And what of poor Shona? Her parents came here from Glasgow yesterday. They’re devastated. They need a resolution. Let’s go down to the police station and make notes. I’ll be your Watson. Let’s go over everyone from the beginning.”
♦
In the police station, Hamish made coffee, and they both went through to the police office.
“Right,” said Elspeth. “The first. Professor Sander.”
“There’s a good chance he pinched one of his students’ book on Byron,” said Hamish. “But the student is dead. The prof has no real alibi, and he was the nearest person to Mrs. Gillespie. From the post-mortem, it seems she had only been dead for a short time before I found her. So he could have followed her down the drive and struck her in a fit of rage.”
“I’ll dig a bit more into his background for you. Next?”
“Mrs. Fiona Fleming. Mrs. Samson seemed to think that Mrs. Gillespie believed her to have killed her husband by pushing him down the stairs. I’ve a feeling in my bones that the man’s death was an accident, pure and simple. Maybe Mrs. Fleming was in the early stages of her affair with Dr. Renfrew, and Mrs. Gillespie was blackmailing her over that. I don’t like the woman, and I feel she could be quite vicious. But no. I think it was someone cold, calculating, and ruthless. Maybe someone who met Mrs. Gillespie at the foot of the drive and said, “Let me help you put your stuff in your car,” and then swung the bucket hard.”
“Now comes Mrs. Styles.”
“The saint of Braikie. I don’t think so. I think if Mrs. Gillespie had tried to blackmail her, she would have gone straight to the police. The same with Mrs. Wellington.”
“Mrs. Barret-Wilkinson?”
“I can’t get the hang o’ that woman. She’s playing at being the country lady. But she’s got a good alibi for the time of Shona’s death.”
“What alibi?”
“On the night of Shona’s murder, she was staying with a friend in Glasgow. Then she had a hotel receipt from the Palace in Inverness. Says she stopped there on the road back.”
“What about Dr. Renfrew?”
“He must have been terrified that she’d gossip about his malpractice suit. Could be. Then there’s Miss Greedy, who admits to having rigged the bingo so that Mrs. Gillespie would win. I want that kept quiet. I don’t believe for a moment she murdered anyone.”
“What about Mrs. Gillespie’s stepdaughter?”
“Damn! I’d completely forgotten about the lassie. I suppose she’ll have been asked for an alibi for the time Shona was murdered, but I’d better have a talk with her again.”
“Let’s go back to Mrs. Barret-Wilkinson,” said Elspeth. “I wonder if a friend would lie for her?”
“Strathclyde police will have checked out her alibi.”
“It’s not their case. It would be interesting to get down there and suss out whether she might be lying.”
“I can’t take the time off to go down there. They’d be down on me like a ton o’ bricks.”
Elspeth looked at him mischievously. “And you don’t want to lose your job?”
Hamish gave her a reluctant smile. “You’re right. That was a real daft moment I had. Thanks. You scare me sometimes, Elspeth. Do you always know what people are thinking?”
“No, hardly ever, and when I’m down in the city, not at all. Put it down to a lucky guess. Tell you what, if you see the daughter, I’ll nip back to Glasgow and interview Mrs. Barret-Wilkinson’s alibi. What’s her name and address?”