“You,” said Blair in a sudden fury, glaring at Hamish, “take your wee sidekick and get down there to thae houses and see if anyone saw anything.”
Hamish repressed a sigh. As he looked down the hill, he could see police officers going door to door, but he said meekly, “Yes, sir.”
He walked down the hill to where his Land Rover was parked. “Get in,” he said to Josie.
“Aren’t we going to…?”
“No. Waste of time. That ground’s being covered. We’re going back to Lochdubh. I’ve got to think.”
Once back at the police station, Josie followed him quietly in, not wanting him to be too aware of her presence and send her away.
Hamish went straight to the police office. Josie was glad the dog and cat were nowhere around. They came and went by a large cat flap on the kitchen door. Hamish sat down at his desk, and Josie pulled a chair up next to him.
“What I want to do,” said Hamish, taking a notebook out of his desk, “is to make a list of all the suspects, and then we start somehow to check up and see if there is anything in any of their backgrounds to show they had the knowledge to make a bomb.”
“Shall I make some coffee, sir?” asked Josie.
“Yes, that would be grand.”
Josie went happily off to the kitchen where she was soon lost in a rosy dream of being Hamish’s wife.
When she came back with two mugs of coffee and a plate of biscuits, Hamish was checking down a list he had made.
“I can’t leave out Jake Cullen,” he said. “I know he’s dead but he might have murdered her before that. Maybe Annie knew something about drugs at that club and had threatened to tell the police. Now, I can’t forget Bill Freemont.”
“He seemed a stupid man,” said Josie.
“He could have got someone to do it for him. I wonder if he has any criminal connections? Or Jocasta, his wife? No, scrub that one. I should think she’s been too out o’ love wi’ him for a while to get jealous enough.”
“Is your coffee all right?” asked Josie.
“Yes, chust fine. Don’t sit so close to me. You’re crowding me.”
Josie blushed and drew her chair back.
“Then there’s Jessie Cormack. Annie took her boyfriend away-and that boyfriend, Percy Stane, had better be on the list as well. I may as well put the minister, Mr. Tallent, down as well. I’ll swear he was in love with Annie.
“But right at the moment, my main suspect is Barry Fitzcameron. He’s the spider in the middle o’ the web.”
The phone rang. It was Jimmy. “You’ll never believe this, Hamish. Blair went up the brae a bit for a nip o’ whisky out o’ his flask. A great gust o’ wind caught him and sent him tumbling down the brae right onto the crime scene and he banged his head on the plinth o’ the memorial and went out cold. Daviot’s here and he’s furious. Blair’s been taken to Braikie hospital.”
“Hang on a minute, Jimmy.” Hamish turned to Josie. “You may as well take the rest of the day off, what’s left of it. Run along.”
He waited until Josie had left and then spoke urgently. “Jimmy, raid that disco tomorrow.”
“You mean…?”
“I don’t want to think Blair was the informant, but do you think you could do it?”
“I’ll tell Daviot I’ve had a tip-off.”
“Just make sure Daviot doesn’t go visiting Blair!”
“I’ll tell him he’s not allowed visitors for the next forty-eight hours.”
Mrs. Wellington greeted Josie. “I’ve a nice venison casserole. You can have some of that. Sit down at the table. How’s Hamish?”
“As usual,” said Josie. “I’m thinking of getting a transfer back to Strathbane.”
Mrs. Wellington was alarmed. The money she received for housing Josie had come in very handy.
“You haven’t been having much fun here,” she said. “You should go to the dance in the hall this Saturday.”
“I don’t want to go on my own,” said Josie.
“Get Hamish to take you. That man needs a good woman.”
“He won’t want to go,” said Josie.
“Oh, he will,” said Mrs. Wellington. “I’ll make him.”
Mrs. Wellington thought that a nice clean girl like Josie McSween was just the kind to sort Hamish Macbeth out. That evening, her eyes gleaming with matchmaking, she made her way along to the police station.
“Come ben,” said Hamish reluctantly.
Mrs. Wellington followed Hamish into his living room and looked around in disapproval. There were two dirty coffee mugs beside his armchair and sheets of notes spread out on the floor. The dog and cat lay sleeping in front of a smoky peat fire.
Yes, Josie was just what this lazy policeman needed in his life. “I want you to take Josie to the dance on Saturday,” boomed Mrs. Wellington.
“I’m following up more than one murder,” protested Hamish. “And it iss not the thing at all to be socialising with my policewoman.”
Mrs. Wellington sank down in the little-used armchair opposite Hamish, sending up a cloud of dust.
“You must make an exception,” she said. “That young girl has had no social life at all since she came here. One evening won’t hurt you.”
“But-”
“No buts, young man. I expect to see you there. There’s been talk in the village about how lonely Josie must feel.”
Hamish suddenly just wanted to get rid of her. “Oh, all right,” he said ungraciously.
Josie was elated at the news. She escaped to her room and poured herself a large glass of whisky to celebrate. But then she began to wonder what would happen if Hamish Macbeth either did not dance or danced with her only once and then disappeared back to his station.
She drank more whisky and wondered what to do. She felt she wouldn’t get any sleep that night. Then she remembered that hidden in her luggage, she had a packet of Mandrax tablets. They had been part of a drug raid when she was in Strathbane. She had not been on the drug raid but had been given various drugs and told by Jimmy to take them down to the evidence lockers. It was only when she returned that she had found the packet in her pocket. Not wanting to get into trouble, she had taken them home with her. The missing tablets had not been noticed during the court case.
Mandrax, known as quaaludes in the States, was a banned drug. It was a powerfully addictive sleeping pill with dangerous side effects. Now, if she ground down some of the tablets and slipped it into Hamish’s drink, he would start to get dizzy. She could help him back to the police station, get him into bed after undressing him, and then undress herself and climb into bed with him. When he woke up, she could say they had had sex. He would feel obliged to marry her.
The mad idea fuelled by more whisky began to seem perfectly feasible.
Hamish was awakened two mornings later by the ringing of the telephone. He struggled out of bed, glancing at the clock in alarm, realising he had slept in, and rushed to answer it. It was Jimmy. “Och, man,” he said. “You’ll never believe what’s happened.”