Death of a Witch (24 page)

He in turn told her about his work as a policeman in the north of Scotland and all about the recent murders while the dining room gradually emptied.

At last, he said, “I think we should be leaving. Which is your compartment?”

“Number five.”

“There’s a coincidence. Mine is number six.”

He walked her back along the corridor. He wanted to kiss her but thought that might be a bit too much since he had just met her. He said good night, went into his compartment, and sat on the bed.

There was a knock at his door ten minutes later just as he was considering having a shower. He opened the door.

Caroline stood there in a nightgown and negligee.

“I came to borrow a cup of sugar,” she said.

Hamish smiled down at her. “You’ve come to the right place. Come on in!”

Detective Chief Inspector Blair sulkily followed his wife, Mary, into the delicatessen. Mary had said olive oil was healthier for cooking.

Blair suddenly felt he was being haunted. The artist in Barcelona had decided to put Hamish’s picture on all the new bottles. From row after row of bottles, Hamish’s face grinned down.

Blair turned about and went into the nearest pub. He had stopped drinking for five days and he was getting hallucinations. Must be the lack of alcohol.

He ordered a double whisky and then hid in a dark corner of the pub, hoping his wife would not find him.