“Jessie,” said Hamish, “here’s my card. Phone me if you hear anything or think of anything.”
♦
Outside, he said to Jenny, “This is not going to work. I admit you ask some good questions and people take to you, but you cannot let your feelings get involved in a police case.”
“It’s very hard,” said Jenny.
“Furthermore, if Blair gets wind of you going around with me, I’ll be in deep trouble.”
“Where do we go now?”
“I’m thinking. So many suspects. It’s nearly lunchtime. I’d like to go to the school and see if any of the teachers have thought of anything. Why don’t you wait outside and have a chat with anyone around?”
Jenny pouted. “Can’t I come in with you?”
“No, leave this one to me.”
♦
The playground was full of noisy children. Hamish noticed that a woman he guessed to be a volunteer was supervising them. With any hope he would find all the teachers in the staff room. He had decided it would be better to interview them all together than separately in their homes.
By dint of opening several doors, he found the staff room. They were all there: Maisie Hart, Henrietta McNicol, Jamie Burns, and Matthew Eskdale, all puffing on cigarettes.
Four dismayed faces looked up through the haze of cigarette smoke as Hamish entered the dingy room with its institution-green walls and scarred and chipped furniture.
“Chust continuing my enquiries,” said Hamish, made nervous by the sight of teachers, reminding him of his own schooldays.
He found an empty chair and sat down and took out his notebook. Four wary pairs of eyes stared at him.
“Now, to begin, I need more of your impressions of Miss McAndrew. Were you aware that she might have been faking the results of exam papers?”
“I thought once that she might,” said Maisie cautiously. “I mean, what was that girl – Jessie – that’s it.” She looked round at the others. “She had brilliant results in the school exams, but when it came to the ones that were sent out to the examining board, she barely scraped through.”
“I thought that was exam nerves,” protested Henrietta. “That’s what Miss McAndrew said.”
“She was a bit of a bully,” said Matthew Eskdale. “Made Jamie’s life hell. Didn’t she, Jamie?”
“I’ve already told this policeman that,” said Jamie, “so there’s no use trying to move the focus off yourself. You sucked up to her something awful.”
“No, I didn’t!”
“You did.”
“Gentlemen,” protested Hamish, “we’re getting nowhere.”
♦
Outside the school, Jenny was approached by a swarthy boy. “You come here with that copper?” he asked.
“Yes,” said Jenny. “I’m helping him.”
“My name’s Geordie Cromarty and I’m helping him as well.”
“How clever of you,” said Jenny, batting her eyelashes at him.
Geordie eyed her speculatively. He and his pals had often discussed the charms and experience of older women, each one dreaming of a Mrs. Robinson who would deftly remove their unwanted virginity, but the ladies of Braikie were built on formidable lines and some still wore corsets and so they had given up hope. But here in front of him in the school playground, sitting on the wall and showing lengths of black-stockinged leg, was a beauty. He puffed out his chest. “I could tell him a few things.”
“Like what?” breathed Jenny, gazing at him with well-feigned admiration.
“Like Miss Beattie was seen going to Miss McAndrew’s house three days afore she was killed.”
“Heavens! Are you sure? Who told you?”
“I have my sources. But it’s true.”
“If I were the police,” said Jenny cautiously, “I would insist you named your source.”
“Aye, but I promised not to tell.”
“Say you told me. I wouldn’t tell Hamish.” Jenny crossed her fingers behind her back.
The school bell shrilled out. “Break’s over,” shouted the volunteer. “Form orderly lines. You over there, Geordie, get in line.”
“Gotta go,” he said. “Meet me after school.”
“Where?”
“Out o’ town. Just past Miss McAndrew’s house, there’s a big rock on the shore. See you there.”
He swaggered off to join the others.
Jenny saw Hamish emerge and decided quickly to keep Geordie’s news to herself.
“Nothing,” said Hamish, coming up to her. “Nothing new. She was a bully who had favourites and who forged exam papers for them.”
“I think I saw that inspector of yours,” lied Jenny. “Thickset man in plain clothes came past in a police car. It slowed down and he glared out the window at me.”
“Blair. You’d better make yourself scarce,” said Hamish. “I’ll tell you later if I’ve found anything.”
To his relief, Jenny just grinned and swung down from the wall. “I’ll check with you later,” she said.
Hamish decided to have a look at the post office. Although Billy Mackay had inherited the business, they would need to send someone in to cope with the pensions and deliver the mail.
To his surprise, he found the whole shop open for business and old Mrs. Harris behind the shop counter while a stranger manned the post office section.
“What’s going on?” he asked her.
“The lawyers phoned me and said that Billy had asked me to run the shop until they released him. I used to work in a grocery when I was young, so it isnae that difficult. It’s fun.” Her elderly eyes sparkled. “They’ve got a mannie to cope wi’ the letters and pensions and stuff. I’ve to get paid. Imagine that! Me earning at my age.”
“Great,” said Hamish. “You still on for Friday night?”
“Looking forward to it. Oh, more customers.”
Hamish retreated to the street, where he bumped into Elspeth. “So what have you dug up?” he asked.
“I’ll tell you over a drink. I don’t come cheap.”
When they sat down at a corner table in the dingy pub with their drinks, Hamish found himself wishing that Elspeth would dress better, and then he instantly chastised himself for being one of those men who couldn’t accept people just as they were.
Elspeth was wearing her favourite battered tweed fishing hat, a man’s anorak and corduroy trousers, and a black T–shirt which had been washed so many times it was almost grey.
Still, what did he expect her to wear while reporting around a Highland village? Stilettos and a frock?
“What have you found out?” he asked.
“Rumour and counter-rumour. Nothing concrete.”
“I suppose they still think Billy did it.”
“No, as a matter of fact. They say if he’d killed his nagging wife, they could understand that. He always was a popular figure. Help anyone.”
“So what are you going to write?”
“As it’s for a national, a colour piece about the drama of murders invading a respectable Highland village. The dark-shadow-of-suspicion yackety-yak. Mrs. Harris is working in the post office shop. Is she still going to see that film with us?”
“Yes.”
“You’ve been seen going around with Jenny tailing you in that ridiculous car of hers. Why do you put up with her?”
“She’s got a knack of making people open up.”
“Oh, really? I thought her interest was in you, although Pat Mallone seems quite keen.”
“Elspeth, I will use anyone who might help me solve this case. We could take her along with us to this movie. I think she would be good with the old people.”
Elspeth’s silver eyes narrowed a fraction. “I thought we were going together.”
“Come on, Elspeth. You invited yourself and I am taking Mrs. Harris. Hardly a hot date.”
“I wasn’t competing, copper. I feel in my bones something is going to happen there and I don’t want bouncy, wide-eyed Jenny around.”