M Beaton - Death of a Valentine

“She’s about to land in the divorce court, that’s what.”

“Was she unfaithful to him?”

“In a way. Turns out the love of her life is the bottle.”

“That explains a lot,” said Hamish. “Nothing dafter or more devious than an alcoholic.”

“You said it, laddie. Got any whisky?”

After Jimmy had left, Hamish strolled out to the waterfront with his cat and dog at his heels.

Angela, coming out of Patel’s grocery, saw him looking out at the loch and went to join him.

“Grand evening, Hamish. How are things?”

“Quiet. Just the way I like them.”

“You’ve been living in a nightmare for quite a long time,” said Angela sympathetically.

“Well, like I told you, it’s thanks to you alerting Elspeth that I got off the hook.”

“Have you still got any bad effects from the shooting?”

“When it’s cold, my shoulder hurts a bit.”

“I did think when you went off to Corsica with Elspeth that the pair of you might make a match of it.”

Hamish forced a laugh. “It wouldnae work. It would mean I would have to move to Glasgow. I’m still enjoying having my bachelor life back.”

Archie Maclean came up to join them. “Like to come out to the fishing tonight, Hamish?”

Hamish’s face lit up. “I’d like that fine.”

“Aye, see you at the harbour. Bring your beasties.”

Hamish said goodbye to Angela and strolled off. She saw him stop and say to his cat, “Think o’ it, Sonsie. Lots and lots o’ fish.”

Lugs put a paw on Hamish’s knee and he laughed and picked up the dog and hugged him.

Angela walked away, shaking her head. You might think, she reflected, that Hamish Macbeth was married already.