“And where do Mr. and Mrs. Ogilvie live?”
“Chipping Norton.”
“In the Cotswolds?”
“Yes.”
“Address?”
“Look, is all this necessary?” said Jenny desperately. “They’ll be worried sick if they know I’m up here where there have been two murders.”
“So you know about the murders?”
“Yes, I had dinner with that Pat Mallone. He told me.”
“Right. Parents’ address?”
“Manor Farm, Sheep Lane, Chipping Norton.”
“Phone number?”
“I forgot to bring it with me. I can never remember it.”
Hamish closed his notebook. “You’ll be hearing from me.” He left abruptly and Jenny heaved a sigh of relief.
Her relief disappeared when Hamish came back five minutes later and sat down again. “Now, Miss Ogilvie” – no more ‘Jenny’ – “I have spoken to your parents. They do not know you are up here. Furthermore, they say you work for a computer company in the City called Camber Stein. Camber Stein confirm you are on holiday. Why did you lie to me?”
“I…I…I…”
“I have a friend who works at Camber Stein. Her name is Priscilla Halburton-Smythe. Do you know her? No more lies.”
“Yes,” mumbled Jenny.
“Does she know you are here?”
“No. She had talked a lot about Lochdubh. I had some holiday owing and decided to come up here at the last minute. I hadn’t time to tell her.”
Hamish leant back in his chair and surveyed her. “It would have been natural to tell her. She was brought up here, she is my ex-fiancee, her parents own the local hotel. So why not?”
“I’m telling you, I hadn’t time,” shouted Jenny.
“You’ve been awfy interested in me since you arrived,” said Hamish slowly. “I’m not the subject of some joke between you and Priscilla, am I?”
“No, no. Honestly, she doesn’t know I’m here.”
“I’ll check it out. Be back shortly. Don’t move.”
Hamish went outside and took out his mobile phone, dialled the computer company, and asked to speak to Priscilla. When her cool voice came on the line, his heart gave a lurch. “It’s Hamish,” he said.
“Hamish! I haven’t heard from you in ages.”
“Do you know a girl called Jenny Ogilvie?”
“Yes, of course. I work with her and she’s a friend. Why?”
“She’s here.”
“What! In Lochdubh?”
“Aye.”
“Good heavens. She was round at my place only about a week ago. Why didn’t she tell me?”
“That’s what I was wondering. First of all, she lied about where she worked. Then she said she didn’t work and that her parents were supporting her. Then she said she came up on an impulse. I am not a vain man but she seemed to be setting her cap at me.”
There was a silence, and then Priscilla said slowly, “I have been talking about you. I think she is a little bit jealous of me. Maybe she thought that if she could snare you, it might put my nose out of joint.”
Again that lurch at the heart.
“I’ll get rid of her.”
There was a silence. Then Priscilla said, “No, don’t spoil her holiday. She’s had bad luck with men and always chooses rotters. She’s actually very kind. When I had the flu last winter, she came round and nursed me and did all my shopping.”
“I thought your fiancé, Peter, would have been on hand to do that.”
“He couldn’t spare the time. He works very hard. Maybe she could help you on this case.”
“What! Her? Priscilla, the lassie’s daft.”
“She’s got a knack of getting people to talk to her. People on the tube end up telling her their life stories.”
“The place is crawling with police. I haff no need of herself’s help,” said Hamish stiffly, the strength of his Highland accent showing he was upset. But what had he expected? That Priscilla would immediately fly up to confront Jenny? He had broken off the engagement because of Priscilla’s aloofness. Why go down that road again?
“Suit yourself,” said Priscilla.
“I usually do. When’s the wedding?”
“We’ve put it off again. Peter’s awfully busy. I’ll let you know.”
“Do that. I’d better get on with my work. Goodbye.” Hamish rang off and stared bleakly along the misty waterfront. The thick mist was beginning to shift and eddy like so many ghosts being called home.
He gave a sigh, then went in and sat down in front of Jenny. “Don’t ever lie to me again,” he said. “I’ve just spoken to Priscilla.”
“Oh, God.” Jenny’s face was scarlet and her large eyes were swimming with tears. “I’ll leave today.”
Hamish’s face softened. “No need for that. Let’s forget about the whole thing. Enjoy your holiday.” He stood up and, on impulse, bent down and kissed her on the cheek.
After he had left, Jenny slowly put her hand up to the cheek he had kissed.
Mrs. Dunne bustled in to clear the breakfast things away. “What did Hamish want?” she asked.
“Just asking questions about why I was here,” said Jenny. She dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief. “I seem to have an allergy.”
“Morning!” Pat Mallone bounced into the breakfast room.
“I must ask you both to clear out of here,” said Mrs. Dunne. “It’s past time for me cleaning the dining room.”
“It’s all right,” said Pat cheerfully. “We’re just leaving. Got your coat?”
“Yes,” said Jenny, picking up her new anorak from the chair next to her. She followed him out onto the waterfront. “Where are we going? I was thinking of leaving today.”
“You can’t. We’ve got two murders to solve.”
“Isn’t that Hamish’s job?”
“What! The local bobby? In my opinion, that man’s overrated. Let’s go to Braikie and ask around. I’ve been sent to get local colour and background. The boss has a commission from the Daily Bugle for a feature piece. This is my chance to shine in one of the nationals.”
♦
Hamish decided on arrival in Braikie that he should interview Penny Roberts, the headmistress’s pet. He knew if he approached Arkle, he would be told that he was disrupting lessons. He entered the school and knocked at the glass door of the secretary, Freda Mather.
He heard a faint ‘Come in’ and opened the door. Freda turned white when she saw him and swayed in her chair. He went quickly round behind her desk and said, “Now then, lassie, take deep breaths. That’s it. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”
She gulped in air and then said, “I’m all right now. Honest. When I saw you, the first thing I thought was that there had been another murder.”
“Now, why should you think that?”
“It’s silly. But there’s such an atmosphere of suspicion and threat around. I’m sorry. How can I help?”
“I would like a quiet word with Penny Roberts.”
“Mr. Arkle won’t like that.”
“Where is Mr. Arkle?”
“He’s away today. He’s at a board of education meeting.”
“So we don’t need to bother about him,” said Hamish bracingly. “And what he doesn’t know can’t upset him.”
“Won’t her parents need to be present?”
“No, it’s not as if she’s being charged with anything. You’ll do.”
Freda rose and went to the wall where class schedules were pinned up. “Penny’s in the art class at the moment and art is not her best subject. I’ll go and get her.”
Hamish waited patiently. Footsteps came and went in the corridor outside.
After he had interviewed Penny, he decided, he would get the home addresses of the teachers and call on them after school. He remembered his own school report: “brilliant but lazy.” His teachers had never really forgiven him for coming out on top in all the exams while apparently doing very little work. He wondered if Penny would turn out to be an egghead. Teachers felt comfortable with swots.