“Hard to tell now that the animal libbers have let all the creatures out of the cages, but if the lion’s anything to go by, I think the whole sorry place was a desert of mange and mud. Owners are Jocasta and Bill Freemont. Jocasta is posh and overworked. Bill is lower down the social scale.”
“Bit of a rough?”
“Not that low down. A chancer and, I guess, a fantasist. I think he sold poor Jocasta some dream of the Highlands that only the lowland Scots on the tartan lunatic fringe know how to do.”
Priscilla frowned. “Do you think this Bill…how old is he?”
“Older than her. Maybe getting on for fifty.”
“I wonder if he or his father or anyone in his family were ever associated with the militant side of Scottish nationalism.”
“There’s a point. I think I’ll pay them an evening visit.” Hamish stood up and lingered by the office door. “I suppose I’d better say goodbye-again.”
“ ’Fraid so.”
He moved a little forward as if to kiss her. Priscilla sat down abruptly behind the desk and began to shuffle papers. Hamish trailed out with his dog and his cat behind him.
He stopped on a rise on the road before the wildlife park and let the dog and cat out. He knew they liked playing in the snow and they needed to run off some of the fat they had gained by mooching in the kitchen of the Italian restaurant.
It was a bright moonlit frosty night. He smiled indulgently as Sonsie and Lugs tore through the snow.
It was on nights like this that Sutherland became a fairy county, all black and white, the silhouettes of the mountains rising up to a sky blazing with stars. He wished this murder could be quickly solved. Then he would concentrate on getting rid of Josie.
He called his pets, helped them into the back of the car, and drove to the park. He could see the lights were on in the office. Something made him switch off the engine and the headlights and cruise gently down the slope towards the office with the window open.
He slowly got down from the car and pressed his ear to the wall of the office. He heard Jocasta’s voice. “I’m telling you. She said she saw you at Annie’s house. It was one day a month ago when Annie said she was ill and you said you were going into Strathbane. She says you were in there for two hours!”
“If you’re going to believe every malicious auld biddy in Braikie, you’re dafter than I thought.”
“Yes, daft enough to sink my money into this failure. I’m leaving you.”
“Oh, come here, darlin’,” wheedled Bill. “You know I’d be lost without you.”
“But you went to her house!”
“I swear to God I never went near her.”
Hamish thought he had heard enough. If one of the neighbours had seen Bill, why hadn’t they told the police? Was it Mrs. McGirty? Or Cora Baxter?
He knocked loudly on the office door. Jocasta opened it. Her eyes were red with weeping.
“Have I come at a bad time?” asked Hamish.
“No, no, don’t worry about me. I haven’t been crying. Just some sort of allergy.”
Hamish followed her into the office. There was a flash of fear in Bill’s eyes, quickly masked.
“What kind of person was Annie Fleming?” asked Hamish.
“Ask Bill,” said Jocasta. “I’m going up to the house. Good night.”
Hamish waited until the door had closed behind her and then repeated his question.
“She was all right,” said Bill.
“Did you have an affair with her?”
“What a question tae ask!” spluttered Bill. “And me a happily married man.”
“Come off it. You were seen spending an afternoon at her house by the neighbours.”
“I went to discuss the business wi’ her. She’s my secretary.”
“Maybe you’ll just be calling your wife to confirm that.”
Bill crumpled. “Don’t do that. Look, it wasnae me that seduced her. It was the other way around. I couldnae believe my luck, and that’s a fact. It was just the one afternoon, that’s all. Then she went on as if nothing had happened.”
“When was this?”
“About a month ago. Please don’t tell the wife.”
“That I cannae promise. Do you have any training at all in chemistry?”
“Not a bit. Lousy at school all round.”
“You’ll need to stand by for more questioning. Don’t go to bed.”
Hamish went out to the Land Rover and called Jimmy. “What is it now?” groaned Jimmy.
“You’d best get out to the wildlife park and pull Bill Freemont in for questioning. He spent at least the one afternoon in bed wi’ Annie Fleming.”
“I’ll get out there. What if he denies the whole thing?”
“I’ve got it on tape,” said Hamish.
“Have you really? Or is that just one of your convenient lies?”
“No, I’ve got it all right. I’m off. I don’t want to be caught poaching on Strathbane’s territory. I’ll wait for you at the top of the road.”
Hamish waited patiently for what seemed like a long time before Jimmy turned up with Andy MacNab and two policemen following in another car.
“Right, Hamish, where’s the tape?” said Jimmy. Hamish took a small, powerful tape recorder out of his pocket and handed it to Jimmy.
“Odd that,” said Jimmy. “I never think of you as being high-tech. I wouldn’t have been surprised if you’d written your notes up in the snow. Come on, lads. I’ll keep you posted, Hamish.”
The more she landed in disgrace with Hamish, the more Josie’s obsession with him grew. As he was making his way back to Lochdubh, Josie sat in her room at the manse in front of the peat fire and dreamt of becoming his wife. In her mind, she remodelled the police station. There would need to be room for a nursery for the three children she planned to have.
It was only when she awoke in the morning with a hangover that she conjured up one sensible idea. If she worked hard investigating and maybe solved this case, Hamish would admire her. He would want her company instead of looking at her flat-eyed.
Hamish was relieved and surprised when Josie reported to the police station and suggested that she should do some investigative work in Braikie and go round the town and try to ferret out more of Annie’s friends. Hamish filled her in with what he had found out about Bill Freemont.
Josie looked so neat and efficient in her newly sponged and pressed uniform that he offered her a coffee. Josie sat down happily at the kitchen table and looked around. It was a very small kitchen but could be extended. That old-fashioned stove would have to go. And the other thing that would have to go, she thought, eyeing the dog and cat who were slumbering together in front of the stove, was those wretched animals of his. She would get pregnant quickly and tell Hamish that his pets would cause allergies.
Hamish handed her a mug of coffee. “It’s odd, isn’t it?” he said in his lilting highland voice. “At first it seemed as if this murder was the work of some maniac. Now it turns out Annie was what Scotland Yard would call a murderee, someone who works people up so much that she’s bound to get bumped off sooner or later.”
“Or maybe it has something to do with drugs,” said Josie. “I mean, Stardust, the disco owned by Barry Fitzcameron. He owns a couple of pubs as well. He plays the part of the good citizen, gives a lot to charity, that sort of thing. But when I was waiting for you at headquarters, I heard one of the policemen complaining about that raid on the disco. He said they couldn’t even find an underaged drinker, let alone any drugs, and he thought Barry had been tipped off. Because one thing I did notice in that disco was that some of the drinkers were definitely underaged.”
Hamish looked at her thoughtfully. He wondered why Blair hadn’t jumped at the idea of being there at the raid. “Which pubs does he own?” he asked.
“The Clarty Duck and The Stag.”
“Interesting.”