Priscilla was caught up, saying goodbye to various guests. Then she found Elspeth beside her. “Perry has left,” she whispered.
“Where has he gone?”
“Mr. Johnson said he went upstairs and put on his coat and went out. He said he shouldn’t be driving after the amount he’s drunk. He said he seemed tipsy.”
“Hamish!” said Priscilla. “Hamish has charmed the boots off him. I bet he’s gone down to the station.”
“Let’s go down there,” said Elspeth, she and Priscilla being joined in sisterly fury at Hamish. “We could listen outside and see if Perry talks about us.”
♦
Hamish had just taken off his tie and jacket when he heard a knock at the kitchen door. “If that’s you, Lesley,” he shouted, “I’ve gone to bed.”
“No, it’s me, Perry.”
Hamish opened the door. “Come in. I’ll get the coffee on. You should never have driven after all you’ve had to drink. What’s up?”
“You just left. I thought maybe we could continue our conversation.”
“I’m afraid not. I’m right tired and want to go to bed.”
“Good idea,” said Perry softly.
I must be mistaken, thought Hamish, plugging in the percolator. “Take your coat off. Coffee won’t be long.”
Perry had driven so slowly and carefully that Elspeth and Priscilla had not been long behind him.
They were now crouched in the snow outside the kitchen window.
“Do you know, you’ve got the most marvellously long eyelashes,” said Perry.
Hamish sighed. “I think a mistake is being made here, laddie. Just to make things plain: I am heterosexual.”
“But you were chatting me up!” cried Perry.
“I told you a lot of stories but not once did I say anything at all that would lead you to think I fancied you, now did I?”
“I thought…”
“You’ve had a lot to drink. Forget the coffee. I’m taking you back to the hotel right now. You can get someone to come down in the morning to collect your car.”
♦
Outside, shivering in the snow, Elspeth and Priscilla stared at each other.
“I’m cold,” said Elspeth. “Let’s go inside and have some of that coffee.”
They crunched through the frozen snow. Hamish had left the door unlocked. They both went in and sat at the kitchen table and stared gloomily at each other.
“I’m slipping,” said Elspeth. “I never for a moment suspected a thing.”
“Nor me,” said Priscilla. “Hamish must have been trying to protect us.”
Elspeth snorted. “Not that one. He deliberately took up all Perry’s attention out of sheer jealousy. I’ll get the coffee.”
“If he did that, I would like revenge,” said Priscilla. “What about sending Lesley some flowers and saying they’re from him?”
“No, she’d just get hurt, and from the way she kept looking over at Hamish, he’d hurt her already. I don’t see his pets.”
“He’s probably taken his wives with him,” said Priscilla. “His damn animals come first.”
♦
Hamish, driving back to the police station, spotted Elspeth’s car parked a little way away along the waterfront. He stopped his own vehicle and went quietly towards the police station. He heard their voices from the kitchen. He walked back to his Land Rover and drove back to the hotel.
Mr. Johnson reluctantly said he could have a room for the night, but the dog and cat would have to stay in the kitchen.
Hamish waited an hour and then crept downstairs. The night porter was, as usual, asleep with his feet up on the desk. He went into the kitchen and summoned Sonsie and Lugs, who followed him quietly upstairs to his room. He hoped he would not run into Perry.
By the time Priscilla found out in the morning that Hamish had stayed the night at the hotel he had already left.
♦
Elspeth and Perry departed the next day, and a few hours later Priscilla left as well. No one wanted to say goodbye to Hamish Macbeth.
More snow roared down from the north in the afternoon. Hamish found the sudden lack of activity made him feel restless. Usually he welcomed a chance to return to his old ways of sloping around the village or taking long drives over his extensive beat. He tried to phone Priscilla but was told that she had left.
Then there was another power cut and the phones also went dead. Hamish would often say that he never watched very much television but he found that with the snow preventing him from going anywhere, he missed it badly.
He spent the day performing his usual chores as best as he could and tidying up the old files in the filing cabinet and promising himself that as soon as the power came back on he would transfer them onto his computer.
At last, unable to bear the inactivity any longer, he put on his snowshoes and, bending before the torrent of horizontal snow, fought his way along to see Angela Brodie.
As he approached, he heard the thud of a generator and saw that the lights were on in the doctor’s cottage.
Angela welcomed him and asked to hear all about how he had solved the murders, saying that she had not had an opportunity to ask him at the party because Hamish had spent all his time with Perry.
Hamish winced inside. If it had not been for his regrettable streak of highland malice he would at least have had the pleasure of looking forward to seeing Priscilla again.
Hamish accepted a glass of whisky, checking it carefully for cat hairs before he drank any. As he talked about the murders, he reflected how strange and distant it all seemed already.
When he had finished, Angela said, “I hope that good-looking journalist, Perry, is not out to make trouble.”
“Why?”
“He came to see me yesterday. I gather he was interested on doing a piece on the lack of sex in Lochdubh.”
“I hope not. That would distress a lot of people.”
“Last week Mrs. Halburton-Smythe met me at Patel’s. She seemed to have high hopes of Priscilla marrying Perry.”
“Perry’s gay.”
“Is he now? Pity. These good-looking men who take care of their appearance often are. Oh, two men were seen up on the mountains yesterday.”
“I hope they’re all right,” said Hamish. “The Highlands are plagued with amateur climbers. They have road signs for deer crossing, schools, elderly people crossing, and all that. They should have a warning sign showing a falling climber. In Glencoe in the winter, it fair rains falling climbers. I wish the snow would ease up. I havenae been to see old Angus for a while.”
“I got the weather report on my computer. Rain is supposed to be coming in from the west tonight.”
“That’ll mean flooding in other parts. We’ve been pretty lucky in Lochdubh.”
“Not thinking about getting married?”
“Who to?” demanded Hamish. “Elspeth was mooning over that Perry and so was Priscilla.”
“What about that girl Lesley?”
“Oh, her. She wanted to make me over.”
“Never mind, Hamish. You should travel more. Maybe meet a nice girl.”
“Angela, I went to Spain, mind? And I was stuck in an hotel wi’ a bundle o’ geriatrics. I’ve never been so popular wi’ the opposite sex in my life.”
“You can’t write off foreign travel just because of one unlucky holiday.”
“I’ll see. Thanks for the whisky.”
When Hamish left, the snow was still falling but it had a dampish sleety feel. He made supper for himself and his pets, cooking on top of the stove by gaslight and then, carrying a lamp into the bedroom, undressed and got into bed. He read a detective story until his eyes began to droop, so he turned out the gas lamp and went to sleep.
He was awakened in the morning by a loud thump as melting snow fell off the roof.
Hamish got dressed and went outside. The wind had shifted around to the west and was blowing mild air in from the Gulf Stream. Everything glittered in the morning sun, and the air was full of the sound of running water.