“Did you kill her?”
“No, I did not. When I saw her dead, all I felt was relief.” Then some of his old bluster came back. “You must have been following me,” he said. “That’s harassment. You bring me down, and I’ll have you out of a job. I have powerful friends.”
So instead of reassuring him that he would keep the matter quiet, Hamish said, “You’ll need your powerful friends. You’ll be hearing from me again.”
He drove to the Tommel Castle Hotel, where Elspeth had told him she would be waiting to hear how he had got on.
She listened carefully and then turned those odd silver eyes of hers on him. “Did you not tell him you wouldn’t be reporting him?”
“I was going to, Elspeth, but he began to get all pompous again, and I wanted him to sweat a little. What is this? You were all for me reporting him.”
“I’ve got a bad feeling,” said Elspeth. “I know he’s a pompous prick, but look at it this way. All that investigation into his book must have put him under a lot of strain. He’s probably been behaving himself for quite a bit. Then when he thinks he’s safe, he heads off to Strathbane to – er – celebrate. He’s probably now thinking of headlines in the papers.”
“A man picking up a rent boy doesn’t make a story these days.”
“But frightened people always think they’ll be top of the news. Hamish, I’m begging you. Go and tell the man you’re going to keep it quiet.”
“Elspeth, when I left him, he seemed quite recovered. Oh, okay, I’ll go back and put his mind at rest.”
She followed him out to the car park. “You may be too late. Look at the sky!”
Black clouds like long fingers were trailing in from the Atlantic.
“It chust means the rain’s coming,” said Hamish angrily.
He drove off slowly, aware of Elspeth watching him go. Rubbish, he thought. He realised he hadn’t had any breakfast, so instead he went to the police station and fried sausage, bacon, and eggs and ate leisurely. Then he fed the dog and cat and let them out for a walk before driving off reluctantly in the direction of Braikie. The wind was strengthening, and the sky above was black.
There was a flash of lightning followed by a tremendous crack of thunder. Damn Elspeth and her fancies, he thought. The rain came down, whipping across the landscape.
He was glad the tide was out as he reached the shore road, but out in the Atlantic, huge waves lit by flashes of lightning were rearing up. It seemed like the end of the world, as though the sea were coming back to claim its own, to claim all the glens it had flooded of old. There was something about Sutherland on a bad day, thought Hamish, that made the human race feel like temporary inhabitants of an increasingly angry planet.
He got out of the Land Rover in front of the professor’s house and ran up the short drive. He had forgotten to wear his oilskin, and his regulation sweater and trousers were soaked by the time he reached the shelter of the porch.
He rang the bell. No answer. The professor’s car was in the drive. He tried the door handle. The door was not locked.
Probably drinking himself silly, thought Hamish. “Professor Sander!” he shouted.
The thunder rolled, but further away.
Hamish went into the study. Maybe gone to bed. He went upstairs, located the professor’s bedroom, but it, too, was empty.
Hamish began to feel more cheerful. Elspeth and her thoughts! The man had probably decided to walk to the shops and had got caught in the rain.
But why didn’t he lock the door? asked a little voice in his head.
He shrugged and decided to make a thorough search so that he could report to Elspeth that all was well. The sitting room was empty.
He opened the kitchen door, looked in, and then froze.
From a meat hook in the ceiling hung the lifeless body of Professor Sander.
What have I done? thought Hamish. He took out his phone and called police headquarters.
There was a sealed envelope on the kitchen table addressed to the procurator fiscal. He longed to open it. What did it say? Did it say it’s because of Hamish Macbeth that I can’t live any longer?
He retreated to the hall and sat down on a hard chair by the door and waited.
♦
Blair arrived, followed by Jimmy Anderson, two policemen, and the pathologist. It would have to be Blair, thought Hamish.
“In the kitchen,” said Hamish bleakly.
“Stay where you are,” growled Blair.
So Hamish stayed. The forensic team arrived.
“So,” said Blair, confronting Hamish, “what were you doing here?”
Hamish thought quickly. “It was believed that Professor Sander had plagiarised his book on Byron. Some student had been accusing him of pinching his work. I had just received proof that this was not true and called to tell the professor. I found him dead.”
“Get to your feet when you’re talking to a senior officer. Well, it wraps those murders up.”
“How?” asked Hamish.
“Oh, get back to yer sheep, laddie, and leave things to the experts.”
Behind Blair’s fat back, Jimmy held up a piece of paper saying, “See you later.”
♦
Back at the police station, Hamish phoned Elspeth and told her the news. “I’d better get a police statement, Hamish. I’ll get over to Braikie right now. Luke had better come with me.”
Luke, thought Hamish after he had rung off. I’d forgotten all about him. He experienced a sudden sharp pang of jealousy.
He did his various crofting chores during the rest of the day. The storm had rolled away to the east, and the day was bright and chilly.
As the first evening star twinkled in the sky, he found his thoughts turning to Elspeth. But a nasty little cautioning voice in his brain asked him whether he would be so interested if she had not arrived with Luke. He tried not to pay any attention to it. He could just see Elspeth living at the police station. It could be fun. He would have company during the long, dark winter months. She would not like to be idle, but she could surely get her old job on the local paper back again. Then it would be rather grand to have a son. Would she want a big wedding? If she didn’t, his mother would.
His happy thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of Jimmy. “Well, that’s that,” said Jimmy. “Are you going to stand out here looking at your hens with a silly smile on your face all night, or can we go inside?”
Hamish led the way into the kitchen and took down a bottle of whisky and glasses from the cupboard.
“What’s what?” he asked.
“That letter Sander left. He said…wait a bit. I’ve taken a note of it.” He fished out a battered notebook and thumbed through the leaves. “Ah, here it is. “I am sorry for everything. Yes, I am guilty. I cannot bear to live with the shame. I would not survive in prison.” It’s signed with his name. So that’s that. We’re still trying to figure out why he killed Mrs. Gillespie except that the blackmailing old trout must have had something on him that Shona found out. Daviot’s thrilled to bits. Gave a press conference. All the press are going away. You’ll be glad of that.”
Hamish slowly poured two measures of whisky. “He didn’t do those murders, Jimmy.”
“Man, he as good as said so!”
Hamish told Jimmy about the rent boy and about how Mrs. Gillespie had been blackmailing him. “I should have told the professor I wasnae going to do anything about it. But he was so pompous that I decided to let him sweat for a little. God, I’ve as good as killed him.”
“Nasty wee man. No great loss,” said Jimmy heartlessly. “This whisky is foul, Hamish. What’s it called? Dream o’ the Glens. Probably made in Japan.”