Death of a Dreamer (11 page)

He set the alarm for six o’clock and climbed into bed, followed by his dog and cat. His last thought was that he should stop them from sleeping on his bed. What if his friendship with
Betty progressed to something more?

The shrill sound of Hamish’s alarm clock woke him. He struggled out of bed, feeling as if he had not slept at all. The dog and cat moved into the warm space in the bed
left by his body and went back to sleep.

He washed and shaved, put on his uniform, and went out to the hen house to collect eggs for Jimmy’s breakfast.

He went back in with the eggs in his cap, set them on the kitchen table, lit the stove, and was just putting the frying pan on it when a knock at the kitchen door heralded the arrival of Jimmy.
The detective’s foxy face looked tired, and his eyes were bloodshot.

‘Give me a dram, Hamish. I’m fair worn out.’

Hamish poured him some whisky and began to fry up breakfast. ‘So what’s new?’ he asked.

‘Damn all,’ said Jimmy. ‘Nobody saw or heard anything. Forensic have moved their search to the rowing boats.’

‘I’m sure it’s connected with Effie’s murder.’

‘Still on about that? Why?’

‘You may have learned from talking to the villagers that because of that notebook of his, they thought Hal was some sort of spy. But I don’t think any of them are to blame. I think
the murderer of Effie is still around and thought that Hal had something in that book that would be incriminating. I hadn’t any help before, but now you can start digging into backgrounds.
There’s Effie’s sister, Caro, the ex-wife and Jock himself.’ He told Jimmy what the gamekeeper had seen.

‘I learned Jock’s agent is up here. What about her?’

‘Not likely,’ said Hamish, blushing slightly as he set Jimmy’s breakfast in front of him on the table.

‘Oho!’ said Jimmy. ‘Why the red face, Hamish? Fancy her, do you?’

‘She’s a perfectly nice woman,’ said Hamish defensively. Then he said, ‘What I was wondering was whether there was any madness in Caro, anything in her background –
drugs, mental breakdown, anything. I think she’d had enough of Effie’s shenanigans, and Effie passing off Caro’s work as her own might have been the last straw.

‘Then there’s Jock Fleming. He has a blazing row with her and then phones her later, he says, to be kind.’

Jimmy yawned. ‘When I’ve finished this, Hamish, I’ll use your bed for a few hours’ kip.’

‘Take the bed in the cell.’

‘Bound to be as hard as nails. Are you squeamish about me sleeping in your bed?’

‘No, but the dog and cat are there, and they wouldnae take kindly to being disturbed.’

‘Hamish! They are not humans. They’re animals. Get yourself a woman. Oh, stop glaring at me and put me in the cell.’

‘How’s Blair?’

‘In hospital. Not only a broken leg but a broken collarbone as well. He’ll be out of commission for a while.’

‘Think they’ll let you run the case, or will they bring in some horror from Glasgow or Inverness like they’ve done before?’

‘I think I’m safe provided we get a quick result. You were due to go on holiday, weren’t you? I hope you didn’t book up anywhere, because your leave has been
cancelled.’

‘I’d already cancelled it,’ said Hamish, opening the door of the one cell in the police station. ‘Pleasant dreams.’

Hamish did a few chores around the police station and checked on his sheep before rousing the dog and cat.

‘We’re off to the Tommel Castle Hotel,’ he said. ‘You can have a run around while I’m interviewing folks.’

He helped them up into the Land Rover and drove off. It was wonderful not to have Blair rampaging around.

At the hotel, he let Sonsie and Lugs out and made his way round to the back door and walked into the kitchen.

Clarry, the chef, was supervising his assistants who were getting the hotel breakfasts ready.

‘Have you time for a chat?’ asked Hamish.

‘Yes, we’ve only a few early birds. The rush doesn’t start until nine o’clock.’

In the days when Hamish had been made a sergeant and before his subsequent demotion, Clarry had been his policeman. But it had turned out that Clarry’s only interest was in cooking, and he
had subsequently retired from the force to work at the hotel.

Hamish sat down next to Clarry. ‘You’ve heard about the death of Mr Addenfest?’

‘Yes, first thing I heard when I came on duty.’

‘Did you speak to him yesterday?’

‘I had words with him.’

‘What about?’

‘He’d ordered a packed lunch earlier. He came into the kitchen in the early evening to complain that what he was being charged for the packed lunches was much more than the contents
were worth. I told him we supplied the best packed lunches in Scotland and if he had any complaints, he could take them to the manager. He asked me my name and wrote it down in that notebook he was
always carrying around. He said, “I’m wise to the lot of you. What’s more,” he said, “that artist was murdered and I can prove it. I have insights that your local
village idiot of a copper doesn’t have.”’

‘Did you tell anyone what he had said?’

‘I was that furious, I told a lot of people. Bessie came in for a coffee, and I told her.’

‘Bessie! Man, you might as well have put up a neon sign in the village.’

‘How was I to know he’d go and get himself kilt? I mean, everyone was saying thon artist committed suicide.’

‘Weren’t the police up here during the night asking everyone about Hal?’

‘Aye, but I was off duty, so they didn’t ask me. I suppose they only interviewed the staff who live in.’

Hamish went out into the main area of the hotel and into the manager’s office.

‘This is a bad business,’ said Mr Johnson.

‘Have the guests been checking out?’

‘Not yet. But most of them won’t have heard anything. It’s too early.’

‘Clarry said Mr Addenfest was in the kitchen in the early evening complaining about his packed lunch. Did he come to see you?’

‘I didn’t know he had even returned to the hotel. He may have left by the kitchen door.’

Hamish went back to Clarry. ‘Did Addenfest leave by the kitchen door?’

‘Aye, he slammed out. Nearly took the door off its hinges.’

Hamish thanked him and then went back and asked Mr Johnson which room Jock was in.

‘He’s not paying, so we put him up in one of the attic rooms. It’s number sixty-two. We only put guests in there if we’re fully booked and they insist on staying. Hardly
room to swing a cat.’

Hamish went up to the top of the castle, located Jock’s attic room, and knocked on the door. He waited. There was no reply. Suddenly anxious, he tried the handle. The door was unlocked. He
opened it and went in.

There were two figures wrapped around each other on a single bed. One was Jock, and the other was the maid, Bessie.

Hamish was about to retreat when Bessie woke up suddenly, saw him, and let out a scream. Jock awoke at the sound and struggled up against the pillows.

‘I’ll see you downstairs in the lounge, Jock,’ said Hamish.

Hamish sat in the lounge and began to wonder if he had been gravely wrong in his assessment of Jock’s character. Jock had seemed to him like an easy-going man, only interested in his
work.

Betty Barnard entered the lounge. ‘Hamish! What brings you here?’

‘I want a word with Jock. He’ll be down any minute.’

‘Mind if I stay?’

‘I would like a word with him in private.’

‘I
am
his agent.’

‘But not his lawyer,’ said Hamish. ‘Please, Betty.’

‘I heard that American had been found dead.’

‘Yes.’

‘So what’s that got to do with Jock?’

‘I’ve got to check where anyone connected with Effie was last night.’

‘What’s the death of this American got to do with Effie?’

‘Here’s Jock,’ said Hamish. ‘I’ll talk to you later.’

Betty went off, and Jock sat down opposite Hamish. ‘I know it looks bad,’ he said. ‘But it gets a bit lonely up here.’

Hamish raised his eyebrows. ‘I would have thought with your agent being here and your ex-wife in Lochdubh, not to mention painting Priscilla, that you’d have enough
company.’

‘Come on, Hamish. I felt like a wee bit of sex, and the lassie was willing.’

‘Where were you the night before last?’

‘Let me see. I had dinner in the hotel with Betty. We stayed up late, and then we went to our rooms. She’ll confirm it.’

‘I’m surprised Effie knew where Geordie’s Cleft was.’

‘She probably asked someone.’

Her mobile phone, thought Hamish suddenly. I can’t remember anyone ever finding her phone. He stood up. ‘That’ll be all for now, Jock, but don’t leave
Lochdubh.’

‘It was a suicide. Can’t you leave it alone?’

‘Hal Addenfest, the American who was staying here, was murdered. I think the two deaths are connected.’

Hamish left the lounge, leaving Jock staring after him.

To Hamish’s dismay, Jimmy Anderson, followed by police and detectives, entered the hotel. Jimmy was brandishing a search warrant.

‘Do you have to do this?’ asked Hamish, thinking uneasily of the effect on the hotel guests and subsequently on Priscilla. The guests may not have bothered to check out when they
heard the news of the murder, but he was afraid a lot of them would do so after getting their rooms searched.

‘’Fraid so,’ said Jimmy, knocking at the manager’s door. ‘He was hit with some sort of blunt weapon. He stayed here. We’ve got to look.’

‘There was no blood around his head,’ said Hamish. ‘Was he killed elsewhere? Did forensic find anything?’

‘Yes, their little bloodshot eyes found a patch of blood further up the beach. Nothing else. That shingle won’t hold footprints. They had to work fast before the tide covered
everything up as far as the seawall. Want to join in the search?’

‘I think I’ll go back down to the village. The locals might tell me things they wouldnae tell you.’

Elspeth Grant, who worked for the
Bugle
in Glasgow, was summoned by her news editor as soon as she got into the office.

‘There’s a murder in Lochdubh,’ he said. ‘Some American tourist. I want you to get up there right away.’

‘But Matthew Campbell, who’s now the local reporter, covers that area. You know he’s good. He used to work for you.’

‘He’s been getting sloppy since he was married. You know the area, you know the local copper, get home and pack a bag and get off as fast as possible.’

‘I’ll take a plane to Inverness and hire a car once I get there.’ Elspeth hoped the news editor would argue about the expense and maybe decide that, after all, the coverage
should be left to Matthew. But he said, ‘Well, what are you waiting for?’

Elspeth did not want to see Hamish Macbeth again. She had been in love with him, and he had rejected her. The hurt had been deep, and so she had refused to accept any phone calls from him.

She was able to pack a bag, drive to the airport, and book herself on the eleven o’clock plane to Inverness. At the airport, having left her own car at Glasgow airport, she hired a car and
set out for Sutherland.

She drove steadily up towards Lochdubh, her anger at the job dissipating as she found herself once more back over the highland line.

Elspeth decided to book in at the Tommel Castle Hotel. She hoped any story she might get would be worth all this expense.

Hamish started off by going again to see the two boys who had found the body. He guessed, rightly as it turned out, that they would be kept out of school to recover from their
shock.

They were evidently beginning to feel excited and important, but they had nothing further to add. Sean said he thought he had heard the plop of a seal diving out on the lake, but that was all
either of them had to add.

Hamish then went from house to house, questioning one after the other, only breaking off to go back to the police station to feed the dog and cat and take them for a walk. No one had seen
anything, and most were cross at being questioned by Hamish when they had already been questioned by police.

Jimmy called in at the police station in the early evening. ‘I’m knackered – and that police cell bed last night was as hard as hell,’ he said. ‘I’m off home.
We’ll all start first thing tomorrow and go over everything again. There was nothing sinister in any of the rooms. We’ve got the police in Glasgow checking up on those three –
Jock, his ex-wife and his agent. Brighton police are looking into the sister’s background. I may have some results tomorrow. From what I gather from the guests, this Hal Addenfest was a right
pill. Maybe someone ran into him by moonlight on the beach and picked up a rock and hit him with it.’

‘He must have walked down there to meet someone,’ said Hamish. ‘His car’s still at the hotel. He wouldnae go down there in the middle o’ the night for no reason at
all.’

‘Well, we’ll see. I’m off.’

Hamish changed out of his police uniform and showered, then dressed in a pair of old corduroy trousers and faded tartan shirt.

He went out to the deep freeze in the shed and was rooting around to see if there was something for his dinner when he heard a car arriving. He walked out of the shed and found to his delight
that it was Betty.

The last rays of sun were glinting on the blonde streaks in her hair. She was wearing a dark blue silk trouser suit and high heels.

‘Hello, copper,’ she said. ‘I thought you might like a meal out, so I’ll take you to the Italian’s if you’re free.’

‘That would be grand,’ said Hamish. ‘Come in, and I’ll dress in something better. I’ve still got a report to send over, but I can do it later.’

He was in the bedroom changing into his one good suit when he heard someone else arrive. He finished dressing quickly and went into the kitchen. Priscilla was sitting at the table with
Betty.

‘I thought you might like some dinner, Hamish,’ said Priscilla, indicating a casserole on the table. ‘But Betty tells me you are going out for dinner, so you can put it in the
fridge and have it tomorrow.’