He went reluctantly back to the living room.
"Sit down, Macbeth," she ordered.
He sat down.
"Now, let us go through that fiasco. First of all, you seemed to have forgotten I am your superior and gave me orders. You did not book those cheats either."
"I had to tell you what to do," said Hamish mildly, "because I know the territory. There are things in the Highlands it iss better for a policeman to sort out without dragging people off to the courts. Think of the public expense of taking Jock to court and then it would come up who we are and what we were doing there and we cannae have that."
"Is this an example of how you do your policing, Macbeth?"
He found himself becoming irritated with her, which in some part of his mind surprised him. He had been berated so many times by senior officers. Perhaps it was because of the very coldness and sexlessness of her manner.
"It iss in a way, ma'am. If a wee boy throws a ball and breaks a window, then the boy pays for new glass. If there's a boundary dispute and two crofters are threatening to go to the land court, I try to get them to sit down and talk and reach a compromise. If a woman had shoplifted something from Patel's, I haff a word with her. She usually doesn't do it again. If she does, and she is not poor and has a mental problem, kleptomania, I arrange with the doctor to have her sent to a psychiatrist. That way the state is saved a lot of expense, and some unfortunate people are saved from having a prison record. The benefit of being unambitious iss that I do not need notches on my belt. Also, tomorrow evening, while we are at Lachie's, I am supposed to be the big cheese and you are supposed to be my wife so I'll have to be in charge."
She sat there, looking at him assessingly, the anger dying out of her eyes. At last she said, "I should not be encouraging you to behave like a Wild West sheriff, but I suppose there is a mad Highland logic to your argument. Pour us both a nightcap and we will discuss tomorrow night."
"What'll you have?" Hamish walked over to a trolley with an array of bottles.
"A malt."
"Glenfiddich all right?"
"Fine."
"What d'you want with it? Water? Soda?"
"Just straight."
"I'll have the same." Hamish poured two generous measures and handed one to her and sat down again.
"So," she began, tucking her legs up under her and cradling her glass, "what do you envisage will happen tomorrow?"
"I think Bob and Angus will get a rocket for being so loose-mouthed. I hope for their sakes that they're still alive. They'll have been grilled about how they took a complete stranger into their confidence. But whatever happens, they'll have to see me, if only to silence me permanently if they think I am an impostor. In order to get out of paying fifty thousand pounds, I will say that provided the quality of the stuff is good, then it's going to be a lot more than that. We've got to get friendly with them, socialise with them. The main point is to find out where the shipment comes in and when it is due. And I don't think we should continue to live here. I think we should check into the Grand."
"Why?"
"This house belongs to some friend of Superintendent Daviot's. After they meet us, they'll check us out. A hotel is a more likely place for us to stay."
She picked up a mobile phone from the side table next to her. "I'll arrange that."
"Wait a bit," said Hamish, turning dark red with embarrassment. "There's something else."
She raised her eyebrows.
"After lunch yesterday, I found I hadn't enough money to pay the bill. So I ran away."
"Didn't you have any cards on you?"
"I'd left my bank cards at Lochdubh, and, och, if we're checking in there, it's just as well I didn't use them. I mean, we won't be using our own names."
"I don't know why everything you do seems to be a muddle. I'll get someone round to the hotel to pay for our lunch. Perhaps we should stay somewhere other than the Grand."
"It's a lousy hotel, but it's the main one in Strathbane and fits the image we're trying to create."
"Oh, very well. You can go to bed and leave me to sort this out."
Hamish went off to bed, reflecting that even in her nightwear, Olivia managed to look every bit a chief inspector.
As he lay awake, he could hear the faint sound of her voice going on for what seemed like a long time. His thoughts returned to the Church of the Rising Sun. Why had Tommy gone to such a place? It had only been a brief meeting Hamish had had with the young man, and yet he had not got the impression of someone stupid. The Owens were into loan sharking. Could it not follow that they were into drugs as well? He lay awake wrestling with the problem. He should have told Olivia that the police should have been instructed to search for drugs.
He got out of bed and put on his dressing gown. The murmur of Olivia's voice on the phone had ceased. He went into the living room but it was in darkness. He knocked at the door of Olivia's bedroom. No reply.
He pushed open the door and went in.
By the moonlight streaming through the window and across the bed, he could see that she had fallen fast asleep.
He put a gentle hand on her shoulder and shook her.
She sat up in bed and let out a stifled scream.
"It's me-Hamish."
"And just what the hell do you think you are doing in my bedroom, copper?" She switched on the bedside light. "You are in deep shit, man. Making a pass at a senior officer."
"I am not making the pass at you," howled Hamish.
She looked up at him, the anger dying out of her eyes. He suddenly looked funny, standing there, his bright red hair ruffled, and a look of outrage on his face.
"Then why did you wake me up?"
"I couldn't sleep. I was thinking about them at the church, the Owens." He told her about his theory that they might have been involved in drug dealing.
"I'll see to it," she said wearily. "But you'd better pray they don't find anything."
"Why?"
"Because if the Owens were into supplying drugs to their parishioners, then it follows that one of the congregation might be found at Lachie's and recognise you."
"Then let's hope I'm wrong," said Hamish.
"Go back to bed," she said. "I'll deal with it."
Hamish awoke in the morning with the beginnings of fear in his stomach. The fear was not that he would be exposed as a fraud and so put his life in danger. The fear was that he would not be able to carry it off and lose face with Olivia. He had to admit he found her attractive, very attractive. He was irked that she regarded him in a totally sexless light.
When he went into the kitchen, she was reading the newspapers. "We'll be moving to the Grand after you cook us some breakfast," she said when she saw him. "That's our car outside. I think we should get into the part right away."
"Very well, darling."
"What did you call me?"
"Chust getting into the act of being your husband," said Hamish.
"Well, don't unless there is anyone else around. There's a suitcase of clothes arrived for you as well."
"I haff the verra good suit," said Hamish huffily.
"Probably too conservative for the part you're supposed to play."
"I'll have a look."
"Breakfast first, if you please. I'll have coffee and two poached eggs on toast."
I find you attractive but I could really learn to dislike you, thought Hamish.
After he had cooked and they had eaten breakfast, he looked out of the front window of the bungalow. A gleaming gold Mercedes was parked outside.
"Where did they get the car from?" he asked.
"Up from Glasgow. I don't know where they got it from. We'd best go and get changed and get out of here."
Hamish picked up the suitcase and went into his bedroom, slung it on the bed and opened it. There was an Armani suit, designer jeans, suede and leather jackets, silk underwear, shirts with the name of a famous Jermyn Street shirt maker and a box containing gold cuff links, gold Rolex and wraparound sunglasses. There was also a camel-hair coat.