Death of a Sweep (5 page)

‘We are only here to pay our respects,’ said Ferdinand. ‘For all his faults, Captain Davenport was an old army buddy. Where is Mrs Davenport?’

‘Ben the hoose,’ said Tam curtly. ‘I suppose you’d better come in.’

Milly, wearing a simple black dress and looking very frail, was seated in an armchair at the window. She rose when the four men entered.

‘How kind of you to come all this way,’ she said. ‘Did you bring your wives?’

‘No, they all thought it too long a journey,’ said John Sanders.

‘Where are you staying?’ asked Hamish.

‘Over at the Tommel Castle Hotel. We booked in last night.’

‘I know you have already made statements to the Surrey police,’ said Hamish, ‘but I’d like to call on you this
evening just to get a better idea about what sort of man Captain Davenport was.’

‘Why?’ demanded Charles Prosser.

‘The more I can find out about the deceased, the better,’ said Hamish. ‘I am perfectly sure he went out on his last day to meet someone he knew.’

Thomas Bromley shrugged. ‘If you think it will help.’

‘Let’s say six o’clock,’ said Hamish.

The four looked at one another and then Ferdinand said curtly, ‘Okay, but don’t take all night over it.’

Hamish joined Jimmy, who was helping himself to a glass of whisky. ‘Jimmy, can you e-mail me over the
background
on these four men?’

‘Will do. But you’re wasting your time. Solid alibis. Still, we’re going to have a policewoman sleeping here tonight just to be on the safe side.’

After half an hour, the four visitors decided to go
outside
for a smoke. ‘Well, would you just look at that,’ said Ferdinand.

Hamish was helping Lugs down from the back of the police Land Rover while Sonsie jumped lightly to the ground on her large paws. ‘Good heavens! The copper’s got a couple of weird animals there,’ said Thomas. ‘A wild cat! And a dog with ears like Dumbo.’

‘That policeman,’ said Charles Prosser, ‘looks like the village idiot, but what else can you expect in this arsehole of the world.’

Thomas Bromley shivered as he looked down to the long black finger of the loch and the steep, threatening black mountains that guarded it. ‘At least the hotel’s civilized. We’ll say something nice to Milly and get going.’

‘What about our money?’ demanded Ferdinand.

‘We’ll wait a day. Call tomorrow and chat. Suggest she honours her husband’s debts.’

News presenter Elspeth Grant was seated in the conference room at the television studios in Glasgow. The head of news and current affairs, Sean Gibb, said, ‘We’re going to launch this new programme we’ve been discussing called
Pandora’s Box
. It’s a sort of cold-case files. For the first programme, we want you to take some time up in the Highlands and see what you can dig up about those murders in Drim.’

‘It’s not very cold yet,’ said Elspeth. ‘And who does my job of news presenting while I’m away?’

‘Dottie McDougal.’

‘But Dottie’s only a research assistant!’

‘We’ve tried her out and she’ll do great. She’ll only be filling in until you see if you can make something of this idea. It’s prime time, Elspeth.’

Elspeth felt very low. Dottie had blonde hair and
cleavage
. Dottie giggled and swayed her saucy little bum up and down the corridors. Whoever believed that news
presenters
weren’t chosen for their appearance? she thought dismally.

‘Why call it
Pandora’s Box
?’ she asked.

‘Well, the last thing out of the box after all the horrors once Pandora had opened it was Hope. Get it? Captain Davenport’s poor wifie wants closure, and that’s the hope we’re going to give her.’

Elspeth gamely made one last try. ‘But I’m not a detective.’

‘Look at all the cases you’ve been involved in up there. What’s the name of that copper?’

‘Hamish Macbeth,’ said Elspeth bleakly.

‘That’s the fellow. Get alongside him.’

Elspeth repressed a sigh. The last time she saw Hamish was when he had tried to speak to her in Glasgow after she had fled their holiday in Corsica, convinced that he had proposed marriage to the love of his life, Priscilla Halburton-Smythe, whose father owned the Tommel Castle Hotel – and all because she had followed him and
heard him asking about engagement rings. But there had been no news of any engagement in the newspapers, and she often wondered if Hamish had meant to propose to her.

Hamish had already phoned the manager, Mr Johnson, to see if he could beg a room to use for interviews. He was told he could use Colonel Halburton-Smythe’s study as the colonel was away, visiting friends.

He decided to bring the four men in together. They had already been interviewed separately in Surrey. Hamish sat behind the colonel’s desk, and the four filed in and sat facing him. ‘I’ll start with you, Mr Castle,’ said

Hamish in his lilting highland voice. ‘I suppose you all met up in the regiment.’

‘Yes, we went through some rough times. We were all in the Falklands War, and all of us served in Northern Ireland.’

‘And you were all close to Captain Davenport?’

‘Yes,’ said Charles. ‘Get on with it. We don’t want to sit here answering questions all night.’

‘Ah, Mr Prosser, what was your rank when you left the army.’

‘Colonel.’

‘Mr Bromley?’

‘Lieutenant-colonel.’

‘Mr Castle?’

‘Major.’

‘And Mr Sanders?’

‘Staff Sergeant.’

‘Was Captain Davenport a good soldier?’

There was a chorus of agreement. ‘The best.’ Bromley. ‘Fine fellow.’ Castle. ‘Good fun.’ Sanders. ‘Could always be relied on in a fix.’ Prosser.

Hamish looked at them all thoughtfully. Then he said, ‘Oh, come off it. We have letters from your lawyers, as you
know, wanting your money back. I think he fled up here to get away from all the people he had conned. Someone wanted revenge. So let’s get to the truth. Mr Davenport left the army after long service with only the rank of captain. Why was that?’

John Sanders began to bluster. ‘Who can explain the ways of the army? I was only a sergeant, and—’

Charles Prosser cut in. ‘May as well tell him. Nothing was ever proved but it left a nasty smell. It was when we were billeted in Northern Ireland. Someone sent an anonymous letter to the authorities saying that John here and Henry Davenport were selling arms to the IRA. Nonsense, of course. But mud sticks.’

Another problem, thought Hamish wearily. If it was true, and the captain had maybe taken money from the IRA and then not delivered, he would be a marked man. ‘When was this supposed to have taken place?’ he asked.

‘Can’t quite remember,’ said John.

‘Oh, tell the truth,’ snapped Hamish, ‘before I start
digging
up your records in Northern Ireland.’

‘Nineteen eighty-six, I think,’ said John sulkily. That pretty much rules out the IRA, thought Hamish.
Davenport
, before he fled north, had been living openly in Guildford. They’d have shot him by now.

‘You all seem to have alibis for the time of Davenport’s death, but can you think of any other old army buddy he might have conned out of money?’

General shaking of heads. ‘We five were always close,’ said Charles. ‘Now, look here, Officer, we’ve had a long journey and we’re tired and want dinner.’

‘I’ll be seeing you again.’

As Hamish went out to the car park, he saw with a jolt at his heart the familiar figure of Elspeth getting out of a television van while a soundman and cameraman unloaded stuff from the back. A small anxious-looking girl was dithering about.

‘What’s this?’ exclaimed Hamish. ‘Never say they’ve put you back to reporting.’

‘Take me inside and buy me a drink and I’ll give you the whole sad story. I’m weary. I’ve been travelling all day,’ said Elspeth.

‘I’d better see if my animals are all right.’

‘For heaven’s sake, Hamish. Can’t they look after
themselves
for a moment?’

‘No,’ said Hamish curtly. He checked on Sonsie and Lugs, then walked with Elspeth into the hotel bar.

Hamish listened to Elspeth as she poured out her worries about the new programme,
Pandora’s Box
, and her fears that the blonde would take away her news
presenting
job.

‘I wish you could solve this one quickly, Hamish,’ she said.

‘It’s going to be difficult. There are four men here, friends of Captain Davenport, and they all have alibis.’

‘Tell me about the case.’

Hamish settled back in his chair, gathered his thoughts, and told her everything he knew.

‘Look,’ said Elspeth, ‘it’s bound to be one of those four.’ Her odd silver eyes gleamed with excitement.

‘Why?’

‘They must have hated him for diddling them out of their money and yet they turn up for his funeral.’

‘I’ve thought of that. I’m going over to Drim early to wait. If I’m not mistaken, they’ll wait until they think Mrs Davenport is alone and then tell her she owes them the money. When she says she hasn’t got it, they’ll tell her to sell the house and divide up the proceeds amongst them.’

‘Would they be so hardhearted, right after the funeral?’

‘I think so. I want to go back to the police station and go over their alibis. Jimmy has sent them over. There might be something there. If only I could go to Guildford and snoop around.’

‘I might go to Guildford for you. But for now, I’ll go with you to Drim. Two sets of eyes are better than one.’

Hamish shifted awkwardly. ‘Like old times. Look, Elspeth, about Corsica …’

‘Oh, never mind that. Let’s go.’

In the police station, Hamish printed off the alibis. ‘I’ll take Castle and Bromley and you take Sanders and Prosser.’

Ferdinand Castle, he read, ran a small electronics firm which he had inherited on the death of his father. He had been seen by staff all day in his office; in the evening, he and his wife had dined at a local restaurant. Loads of witnesses.

In fact all of them had dined at the restaurant. Thomas Bromley and his wife had invited John Sanders and his wife, Charles Prosser and Mrs Prosser, along with the Castles, for dinner on the evening of the day of the
murder
. Thomas Bromley ran a chain of men’s clothing stores, John Sanders repaired computers, and Charles Prosser ran a chain of supermarkets.

‘Read about the dinner party?’ he asked Elspeth. ‘They could be covering for one another.’

‘Yes, I thought of that, but John Sanders’s neighbours reported all the comings and goings.’

‘I wonder about that dinner party. I wonder if they got another old army buddy who looks like one of them to stand in. Now, apart from Castle, one of the others could have taken a flight up to Glasgow, hired a car, and driven up there, then back again late the next day. That’s what’s missing. What were they all doing the day after? Whoever it was would need time to cover his tracks.’

‘I was promised unlimited expenses to get this show on the road,’ said Elspeth. ‘What if I take my team over after I see them leave the hotel and film them coming out? Then I could go down to Guildford and start to dig.’

‘Elspeth! That could be verra dangerous. One of them or all of them are psychopaths. If Davenport had just been shot … but to stuff him up his own chimney and then attack the poor sweep.’

‘It’s very hard to get at me with a big television van, a soundman, a cameraman, and a wee researcher.’

‘You have a researcher! She could be a help.’

‘Betty Close is a wimp. She works hard but never seems to come up with anything useful. She’ll need to come with us.’

‘Maybe she can do some foot slogging. Send her out to the regiment’s headquarters and see if she can dig up
anything
out there.’

‘Maybe. Drive me back to the hotel, Hamish. I could do with a rest.’

‘Could you tip me off when you see them leave?’

‘Will do.’

‘Oh, Elspeth, I’ve been meaning to explain about Corsica …’

‘Another time. I’m too weary.’

She went out and shut the door behind her.

At least I’m not that attracted to her now, thought Hamish with a feeling of relief. But he remembered Elspeth when she used to work on the
Highland Times
: Elspeth with her charity-shop clothes and frizzy hair and those big grey eyes which turned silver, gypsy eyes, and he felt a little pang. The new Elspeth was sophisticated, and there was a hardness about her.

The following morning, Hamish drove to Drim. Milly nervously called through the door, ‘Who is it?’

‘Hamish Macbeth.’

He had to wait until locks were opened and a chain removed.

‘You’re getting well protected,’ he said, taking off his cap and following her into the kitchen.

‘The villagers are so kind. There’s a retired locksmith here and he came and put new locks all over the place, even on the windows.’

‘Grand. Now, the reason I am here is because I think those four men will be back this morning, seeing if they can get any money out of you.’

‘Right after the funerals! Surely not.’

‘We’ll see. Could you take them into the drawing room and then I’ll listen at the door to make sure you’re all right?’

‘I’ve known them all before,’ said Milly, ‘and their wives. We were all such friends.’

‘Nonetheless, it’s better to be safe. I hear the sound of a car. I’ll wait in here until they’re all safely in the
drawing
room.’

There was a knock at the door. Hamish listened hard. He could hear Milly welcoming the men. He waited until the voices went into the drawing room and he heard Milly shut the door. Then he nipped across the hall and pressed his ear to the panels.

They sat around at first, murmuring the usual platitudes about how sad and peculiar the death of Captain
Davenport
had been.

Then Thomas Bromley said in a coaxing voice: ‘The sad thing is, Milly, that Henry owed us all money. We are sure you are going to honour your dead husband’s debts.’

‘It’s an awful lot of money,’ quavered Milly, ‘and I don’t have that much left.’

‘Then you’ll need to sell this house,’ said John Sanders. ‘I am sure you would not want people to think badly of your husband.’

Enough, thought Hamish. He pushed open the door and went in. ‘Good morning, gentlemen,’ he said. ‘What is the reason for this call?’

‘Just to give the lady our condolences.’

‘It’s too soon after all the shocks for Mrs Davenport to be disturbed. I’ll just be seeing you out.’

Hamish suddenly sensed evil in the room, but he did not know which one of them was emanating it.

He held the drawing-room door wide. ‘Good day to you.’

Charles Prosser said haughtily, ‘We’ll be back to see you when this interfering policeman is not around.’

‘No you won’t,’ said Milly, getting to her feet. ‘I’ve had enough. Don’t come back. I haven’t any money.’

‘What’s this?’ asked Hamish. ‘Have you been harassing Mrs Davenport for money at such a time?’

‘We’ll be on our way,’ said Bromley. They pushed past Hamish and left.

Milly sobbed quietly while the sound of their car died away. ‘Look here,’ said Hamish, ‘that money was got from them by fraud. You are not responsible.’

‘I was thinking of selling the house,’ said Milly, drying
her eyes. ‘But the village people are so kind. I’ve never really had friends of my own since I got married. To tell the truth, I didn’t like their wives, but Henry insisted they were my best friends.’

‘Will your sister-in-law have left you anything in her will?’

‘I very much doubt it.’

Hamish took out his phone. ‘I think I’ll just be calling in a few favours from a couple of men on the Forestry Commission. As soon as all the shrubbery is taken away, you’ll get a clear view of who’s approaching the house.’

There was a knock at the door, and Milly winced. Hamish went to answer it. But it was Ailsa and Edie
bearing
a cake. ‘We thought a bit o’ cake might cheer her up.’

Milly appeared behind Hamish. ‘How kind of you. Let’s go into the kitchen. The drawing room is cold.’

Hamish returned to his phone call. ‘Two forestry men’ll be along this afternoon,’ he said.

‘What do I pay them?’ asked Milly.

‘Nothing. Like I said, they’ll take away the wood as payment.’

When Hamish arrived back at his police station, he phoned the hotel and found to his dismay that none of the four had checked out. For once he would have welcomed Detective Inspector Blair with his bullying ways. Why wasn’t he up at the hotel grilling them?

He phoned Jimmy and asked. ‘I’m on my road over,’ said Jimmy. ‘Blair smells that this is a case that’ll never be solved. He’s got a glowing report on all four men from the regiment. He says I’ve got to concentrate on the villagers in Drim. He says they’re probably all inbred and daft. He says some lunatic stuffed the captain up the chimney. He says we cannot go around annoying brave soldiers.’

‘Ex-soldiers,’ corrected Hamish, ‘and they were up at Drim this morning, trying to get money out o’ Milly.’

‘Where are they now?’

‘Tommel Castle.’

‘I’ll just be having a wee word wi’ them.’

‘Drop in here first. I’ve got an idea.’

When Jimmy arrived, demanding whisky as usual, Hamish said, ‘Has anyone looked into how their businesses are doing?’

‘Don’t think so.’

‘All of them or one of them must be desperate for money or they wouldn’t go to such lengths.’

‘I’ll use your phone and get on to it. Where’s Elspeth? I heard she’d been spotted.’

‘Down in Surrey, trying to get some background.’

‘Good luck to her. But believe me, the police down there have been thorough. Wait! I’ll use your phone and get on to them and see if one of the four has a failing business.’

Hamish waited. The wind was rising like a bad omen. It had a peculiar keening sound, heralding worse to come.

Ailsa, Edie and Milly were eating cake and drinking coffee when someone knocked at the door. ‘I’ll go,’ said Ailsa.

After a few minutes, she called, ‘It’s that reporter, Tam Tamworth.’

‘Oh, show him in,’ said Milly.

‘Are you sure you want to be speaking to the press?’ asked Ailsa.

‘Tam swears he won’t publish anything until the
murders
are solved. And he’s kind.’

Ailsa ushered Tam into the kitchen. He was carrying a bunch of yellow roses, which he presented to Milly. ‘How lovely, Tam. I’ll put these in water.’

Ailsa winked at Edie, and both women rose to their feet. ‘We’ll leave you to it, Milly. Phone if there’s anything you want.’

After they had gone, Tam nervously cleared his throat and said, ‘It’s my day off.’

‘Then how nice of you to come to see me.’

‘I wondered if you felt like a trip to Strathbane this evening for dinner.’

‘Oh … I don’t know. Wouldn’t it look odd so soon after the funeral?’

‘I don’t think anyone will notice us. It just crossed my mind that it might be a wee bit o’ a tonic to get out o’ here. And you did want to see a film.’

‘Oh, it would. Coffee?’

‘I’ll be on my way and pick ye up at seven o’clock.’

Jimmy came back from his phone call. ‘Dead end. Yes, they investigated their finances and all are well off.’

‘It’s because they’ve been conned out of the money,’ said Hamish slowly. ‘The captain made a fool of them. I’ll swear to God one of them hated him violently and the others are covering up.’

Elspeth was feeling she had made a wasted journey. She had hit a brick wall everywhere she went. The four men were considered model citizens. Not one of them had a
dishonourable
discharge from the army. When she had tried to pump the adjutant about the captain’s suspected selling of arms in Northern Ireland, she was told roundly that it had all turned out to be nonsense. Her researcher, Betty Close, worked hard and seemed eager but there was
something
about the girl that Elspeth did not like. Betty was small and sallow with a little beaky nose and a small mouth. Her one beauty lay in her eyes, which were large and dark brown, fringed with heavy lashes. She dyed her long hair black and had an irritating habit of tossing it around as if advertising shampoo.

Betty wanted Elspeth’s job. She wanted everything that Elspeth had, from her flat down by the River Clyde to her status at the television station.

She knew Elspeth was worried about losing her job as a news presenter. Betty had overheard the head of news and current affairs saying that if Elspeth could make anything of the
Pandora’s Box
programme, then she would be an even bigger star. But she did not tell Elspeth this,
constantly
commiserating with her over the ‘loss’ of her presenting job. To which Elspeth always snapped back that she had not lost it.

‘So are we back off up to peasant land?’ asked the soundman, Phil Green.

‘Not yet. I want to go via London. I’ve got to see an old friend in the City. I wonder if these four men are as successful in business as they claim. Why are they so
desperate
to get their money back? Is it just because they were conned?’

‘London it is,’ said the cameraman, George Lennox, gloomily.

The four men waited a couple of days before venturing to visit Milly again. As they approached, they saw that all the shrubbery in front of the house had been cleared away so that anyone approaching from any angle could be clearly seen.

They got down from their vehicle and rang the bell. Ailsa Kennedy answered the door. ‘Whit?’ she demanded.

‘We are here to call on Mrs Davenport.’

‘If you want money out o’ her, forget it. We’ve phoned thae lawyers and you’ve no’ got one damn thing in
writing
to say you ever lent him the money. You’ll not come here again, pestering the poor woman.’

Her place was taken by a large man with big ears. ‘I’m Tam Tamworth from the
Strathbane Journal
,’ he said. ‘This could be an interesting wee story for me. Are you all so
broke that you’re all the way up here harassing a widow woman?’

‘You write one word and we’ll sue!’ said Charles Prosser.

‘Go ahead.’ Tam grinned. ‘You cannae stop me writing about your bothering the widow, now, can ye? Get lost.’

The four men looked at him. For one brief moment, Tam felt a spasm of fear. They looked strong and menacing.

‘This was just a friendly call before we leave,’ said Charles Prosser smoothly.

‘Oh, aye? So leave.’

As they walked back to their vehicle, Tam decided to watch his back in future. If one of that lot was a murderer, someone who had murdered two men viciously, and then a woman, too, he would not hesitate at another.

By the time she got back to the Tommel Castle Hotel, Elspeth had a raging temperature. To her dismay, Dr Brodie diagnosed swine flu and she was quarantined in her room. She tossed and turned, sometimes fretting over her job, sometimes wondering what had happened to the highland Elspeth of old who reported happily on flower shows and sheep sales for the
Highland Times
and was not eaten up with ambition.

Betty Close saw her chance. She would see what
information
she could get out of Hamish Macbeth and send a preliminary report to Glasgow. And perhaps it was one of the locals who had committed the murders.

She decided to walk down to the village. If she told George or Phil what she was up to, they might tell Elspeth. Not that anyone was allowed in her room except Dr Brodie, who said he was sure he was immune to germs by now. But they could slip notes to her under the door. They had both done that already, wishing her a speedy recovery.

She met the manager, Mr Johnson, on her way out. ‘And where are you off to?’ he asked.

‘Just going for a walk. I’ll maybe pick up some
background
for Elspeth.’

‘I should think Miss Grant knows all the village background, but you could try the seer, Angus Macdonald. He picks up a lot of gossip.’ He gave her directions. ‘Oh, you’d best drop by at Patel’s grocery store and take him a present. He aye expects something.’

Betty walked out into the clear swimming light of a
late-spring
morning. What a peculiar place to live, she thought as she walked down to the village, stopping briefly on the humpbacked bridge over the River Anstey. The peaty river was swollen with the melting snow from the mountains above. The loch was very still and clear away from the place where the river waters tumbled into it. The village had been built as a result of the highland clearances when the crofters had been driven off their land to make way for vast herds of sheep. Apart from a few Victorian villas and some council houses, the rest of the buildings were Georgian cottages, whitewashed and pretty. By the harbour was a large crumbling building which had once been a hotel. No one wanted to buy it so it lay abandoned, its empty windows staring out over the sea loch.

Betty walked into the grocery store. There were several women gossiping at the counter with the owner, but they fell silent when she entered. A large tweedy woman stepped forward. ‘I am Mrs Wellington, the minister’s wife.’

‘Betty Close,’ said Betty. ‘I’m here with Elspeth Grant.’

‘How is poor Miss Grant?’

‘Still quite ill.’

‘You must let us know when she is well enough to receive visitors. May we expect to see you at church this Sunday?’

‘Sure,’ said Betty, who had no intention of going.

Two small women looking exactly alike, from their rigidly permed white hair to their thick spectacles and
camelhair coats, stepped forward. ‘We are the Misses Currie,’ said Nessie. ‘Do you need anything?’

‘Need anything?’ echoed the Greek chorus that was her sister, Jessie.

‘As Miss Grant is unwell,’ said Betty importantly, ‘and we are here to research the murders, I am taking over. Do you think the murderer could be local?’

Frosty eyes looked at her, and the women turned away.

Betty shrugged and looked through the items in the small supermarket until she found a discounted box of biscuits. When she went back to the counter, the women had gone. She paid for the biscuits, walked out of the shop, and set off in the direction of Angus Macdonald’s cottage.

She felt tired when she finally got there. It had been a long walk from the hotel, and Angus’s cottage was perched on top of a steep brae.