"And don't worry. Your whereabouts will be our secret." Blair thanked him fulsomely and left. He felt he had covered his tracks thoroughly. He had never discussed his snouts with anyone. He would suffer this damn rehab and keep his ear to the ground. One murmur that they had sussed him, and he would disappear.
Hamish began to fret about sleeping arrangements as he and Olivia travelled by police car driven by Kevin to Lochdubh. There was only one double bedroom. There was one cell with a bed in it, but he didn't much relish sleeping in it.
Kevin was silent and morose and, when they arrived at the police station, said curtly that he had better be getting straight back. He felt that he and Barry had been unfairly blamed for not keeping a close eye on Hamish and Olivia.
"Home at last," said Hamish with a sigh. He led her through to the bedroom. "This is all I've got," he said awkwardly. "I've got a bed in the cell I can use."
She smiled at him, a wonderful smile.
"It's all right, Hamish. I won't turn you out of your bed. We'll share it."
"Grand," said Hamish, who felt like whooping and cheering. He put his suitcase on the bed and opened it.
"Hamish, you've brought all those expensive clothes back with you!"
"Aye, well, I feel I deserve them."
"Thief!"
"No, chust taking advantage of a new wardrobe. I'll leave you to unpack. I thought we might have a bit of lunch and then call over on Parry McSporran."
"The crofter who keeps the chalets?"
"Yes. May as well get started."
Hamish went through to the kitchen. There was nothing to make a lunch.
"I forgot to do any shopping," he called. "When you're ready, I'll take you out for lunch."
Half an hour later they walked along to the Napoli restaurant, Hamish stopping every so often to introduce Olivia to the locals. "We'd best call on Archie Macleod sometime today and thank him properly," he said.
They went into the restaurant. Willie Lamont was waiting table. In the heady days when Hamish had been promoted to sergeant before being demoted, Willie had been his police constable but had fallen in love with a relative of the restaurant owner, had married her and had left the force.
Hamish made for the table at the window. Willie, who was a compulsive cleaner, rushed to wipe the table. "This will be that police officer you was kidnapped with."
"Yes, this is Chief Inspector Chater from Glasgow."
"So it isnae a romance, then?"
"Give us the menus, Willie, and push off."
Willie handed them the menus. "You have to watch out for Macbeth," he said to Olivia. "One christ after another."
Olivia blinked.
"He means crisis," said Hamish, who was used to translating Willie's malapropisms.
He looked at the menu. "The veal escalope's good."
"I'm a pasta junkie," said Olivia. "I'll have the linguine with the clam sauce."
"Do we want wine?"
"Better leave it until this evening," said Olivia. "We'll do some shopping and I'll cook dinner."
While they ate, Olivia went over and over again their ordeal on the boat. Hamish listened, knowing she had to talk it out. No victim support or therapy for us, he thought. We just need to help each other to get over it.
Then she asked him to tell her again all about the death of Tommy Jarret.
"The thing that still bothers me," said Hamish, "is why did he go to the Church of the Rising Sun? No drugs were found there. All the congregation seemed to talk about was sex. And yet he was searching from some sort of spiritual belief."
"Some sort of religious belief?" asked Olivia.
"Not exactly. You know what they say, religion's for those who believe in hell and a spiritual belief is for those who've been there. Maybe you could get that girl Felicity to talk a bit more."
The restaurant smells of good cooking were being replaced by a strong smell of disinfectant. "It's late. We're the only customers now," said Hamish, "and Willie is making sure there isn't one germ left behind."
"What's the time?"
"Three-thirty."
"Already! Let's do some shopping."
They left the restaurant and walked along to Patel's, the general store. Hamish paid from a wallet stuffed with notes.
"Hamish," said Olivia when they were outside, "surely that's still some of the money they gave you to flash around when you were supposed to be a drug baron. You were supposed to hand over what was left or at least account for it on your expenses."
"I'll think of something," said Hamish.
After they had put the groceries away, they drove to Glenanstey. "It's a grand day," said Hamish, "but it'll get dark quite soon now."
"I find this landscape quite intimidating," said Olivia, looking up at the towering mountains. "It must be a bleak place in the winter."
"We get some bad winters." Hamish sounded defensive. "But not as bad as they have further south. We're near the Gulf Stream up here. They even have palm trees down in Rossshire."
"Nonetheless, I would miss the lights of the city."
Hamish drove on in silence. He had a feeling that what that exchange had really meant was-Don't get any ideas, Hamish Macbeth. I am not going to live up here with you.
Parry's cottage was deserted. Hamish went up onto a rise and scanned the surroundings. No sign of Parry and his car was not outside the house.
"Let's see if the fair Felicity is at home," he said.
Felicity opened the door to them. "What now?" she asked.
"Just a chat," said Hamish.
"Who's she?"
Hamish pressed Olivia's arm warningly. "My girlfriend up from Glasgow."
"So what is it?"
"I wanted to ask you a few more questions about Tommy."
"I've told you all I know. My case comes up before the sheriff next week."
"Look, can we come in?"
"If you must."
She turned and walked through the kitchen and into the living room.
"I'm still interested in why Tommy went to that Church of the Rising Sun," said Hamish. "Tommy struck me as a bright boy and the people there were rubbish."
"He said something about finding cults fascinating."
"And that was all?"
"I s'pose." Felicity shrugged her thin shoulders. The sun was going down and despite the cold of the approaching evening and the cold in the chalet, Felicity was wearing a scanty top and a long floating skirt of Indian cotton. But there was a sprinkling of gooseflesh on her thin arms. Hamish wondered if her parents had cut off her allowance and that was why she had not turned on any heating. But Parry would surely supply her with peat for the fire and not charge for it and yet the fire was unlit. Probably one of those people who considered heat a decadent weakness.
"I would have liked to see Tommy's Bible," said Hamish.
"Why? Do you think there might be cryptic clues in Exodus, Sherlock?"
Hamish looked at her with irritation. That was exactly what he had been thinking, or that perhaps if Tommy had had any notes, they might be in the Bible. "I find it odd it hasn't been found." "Look, would you shove off? I haven't anything more to tell you."
"You might think of something," said Hamish. "Where's Parry?"
"How should I know?" Hamish gave up.
Outside, he said to Olivia, "We may as well try Parry later. There's a good tea shop down in the village." "I couldn't eat anything after that lunch." "We'll just have tea. Miss Black, who runs it, is very sharp. She might know something."
As they got into the police Land Rover and drove off, Hamish could see Felicity's pale face at the kitchen window, looking at them.
"This isn't a village. It's a hamlet," remarked Olivia as they drove into Glenanstey.
"And full of rude forefathers," said Hamish. Olivia surveyed the small huddle of houses. "Why would anyone want to live here?" she marvelled.
"Because it's beautiful," said Hamish testily. His little dream of himself and Olivia settling down at the Lochdubh police station was fading fast. "Well, Miss Black likes it and runs a good business. Here we are."