“I didn’t come to see Priscilla,” snapped Hamish. “Haven’t you heard about the murder?”
“Aye, the wicked witch is dead.”
“No, not her! Just now. Ina Braid.”
“What’s happened to this place?” said Clarry, his round face creased up like a baby about to cry. “Such a nice wee body. It can’t be that man o’ hers. He’d never hurt a fly.”
“We’ll see. I’m sure they’ve gone to pick him up. Clarry, you were seen down on the waterfront near Patel’s. Who did you see?”
“I saw the Currie sisters and then Mrs. Wellington. I wasn’t really paying attention. Then the fog was so bad. I was thinking up a new recipe and I went for a wee walk to think better. I remember now that witch woman came up to the hotel one night for dinner.”
“Was she on her own?”
“Yes, she drank a lot and then began to complain about the food. She shut up when Johnson told her to pay her bill and get out or he’d call you.”
“What are the guests like? Anyone suspicious?”
“We’ve only got about six guests. It’s quiet there now. But why don’t you ask the boss?”
♦
Mr. Johnson was in the hotel office. “What’s all this I hear, Hamish?” he said. “Ina Braid murdered!”
“It looks like that.”
“How was she killed?”
“It looks like a stab in the back.”
“It’s that wretched Beldame woman. Somehow she’s stirred up a lot of decent people.”
“I just hope it isnae someone in the village,” said Hamish. “What about your guests?”
“They’re all middle-aged to elderly and very respectable.”
“Could you print me out a list of their names and addresses?”
“Help yourself to coffee and I’ll get it ready.”
Hamish left a few minutes later, studying the names and addresses. He would run them all through the police computer, but he hadn’t much hope of finding a villain amongst the lot of them.
He drove back to Lochdubh, parked on the waterfront, walked up to the builder’s house, and then slowly began to walk back the way Ina would have taken on her road to the shop.
The way led down a narrow lane between the cottages, bordered by fences and hedges. He looked to right and left. Someone could easily have stood in the narrow lane, waiting for Ina. Say the weapon was thin and sharp. But surely she would have felt something – turned around and seen her assailant. And would she just have gone on walking, determined to do her shopping? The fog was dense in the lane. Maybe she felt the stab, turned around and saw no one, and kept on walking. He began to call at the cottages whose gardens bordered on the lane, but no one had seen or heard anything.
When he got back to the waterfront, the police mobile unit was back in place. Hamish blessed his wild cat. Had Blair not been so terrified of the cat then he would have commandeered the police station.
He saw Jimmy Anderson outside the unit and went to speak to him. “They’re bringing Fergus in, Hamish,” said Jimmy.
“From the paper mill?”
“No, the man was out fishing. He had the day off. Blair all but charged him with murdering his wife but then fell into a passion when the water bailiff turns up and says he was talking to Fergus and sharing a sandwich with him all around the time they estimate his wife was being murdered.”
“How long until the pathology report?” asked Hamish.
“Dr. Forsythe’s working on it. I don’t know. These things take time.”
“If she was stabbed and went on walking,” said Hamish, “then it probably happened in the lane down from her house to the waterfront, but, och, surely she would have turned round and screamed or something. Not just gone ahead to the shop.”
“Patel says he dozed off. Someone may have nipped into the shop and stabbed her.”
“I hate that idea,” said Hamish moodily. “That might mean it was someone from the village that people were so used to seeing, it didn’t really register. Then with this damn fog, it could have been anyone.”
“Blair’s got coppers going from door to door. But you know these people. What sort of a person was Ina Braid?”
“Quiet sort of woman. Just one of the village women I occasionally spoke to. I barely knew her because there was never any trouble either with her or Fergus. No children.”
“Who’s the biggest gossip in the village?”
“Gossips,” corrected Hamish. “The Currie twins. I’ve already spoken to them. Nothing there. Wait a bit. I’ve had an idea. There’s a back way into the shop!”
“I’ll get along there and tell forensics. That lassie you’ve been romancing, Lesley Seaton, is working there.”
Hamish blushed. “I have not been romancing Lesley Seaton!”
“Well, you were seen having dinner with her up at the Glen Lodge Hotel.”
“Isn’t that chust typical?” said Hamish furiously. “No one sees a damn thing when a wee woman is being murdered under their noses but I take a colleague out for dinner in an empty dining room miles outside the village and immediately everyone knows about it.”
“You’re Lochdubh’s famous bachelor, Hamish. Anytime you’re seen with a woman, it’s a first-class piece o’ gossip.”
Hamish suddenly remembered Timmy Teviot. He wondered what the forestry worker had wanted to tell him that was so secret he had to meet him outside the village.
“I’ve got someone to see,” said Hamish. “Look, Jimmy, do me a favour. The minute you get anything from Dr. Forsythe, let me know.”
“I’ll do that if I can with Blair breathing down my neck.” Behind him, the mobile unit dipped and swayed. “Here he comes. You’d better be off.”
Hamish hurried back along the waterfront. Timmy, he knew, shared lodgings with several other forestry workers in caravans on the other side of the loch. He got into his Land Rover and drove off.
♦
He located Timmy’s caravan by dint of knocking on other caravan doors and asking where Timmy lived.
Timmy answered the door, and his face fell when he saw Hamish.
“I’m right sorry I brought ye all the way here on such a cold night,” said Timmy.
“Yes, it is cold, so ask me in?”
“I’ve got company,” said Timmy, looking nervously behind him.
“And who would that be?”
“It’s just a lassie who minds the bar in Braikie.”
“All right. Step outside and talk to me.”
Timmy reluctantly came down the caravan steps. “I feel a fool, Hamish. It’s really nothing now I think of it. I saw a couple of deer poachers up on the hill.”
“So what was so private about that?”
“Thae deer poachers can be vicious. I didn’t want any of them to see me going to the station. They saw me watching them.”
Hamish took out his notebook. “Where?”
“Up on Brechie moor. Two big fellows, one with a beard, a short grey beard. Must ha’ been middle-aged. The other was young. Could ha’ been his son. Tall thin laddie wearing a wool cap like the older one. They had dark green shooting jackets and both were carrying deer rifles.”
Hamish studied Timmy’s face in the light shining from the caravan window. “And did one of them have a scar on his face?” he asked.
“Now you come to mention it…”
“Timmy, you’re telling me a bunch o’ lies. What was it you really wanted to tell me?”
“I’m telling you the truth, I swear.”
“Your eyes tell me you’re lying.”
“That would make a good song, Hamish,” said Timmy. “Got to get back to business.” He nipped quickly into his caravan and slammed the door.
♦
Hamish remembered that Colin Framont and his wife, Tilly, lived next door to the Braids. Perhaps they could give him some details about Ina Braid’s life and whether she had made any enemies.