M.C. Beaton - Death of a Dreamer

“Maybe he was deeply in love with her,” said Daviot, staring at Hamish.

“Not if you remember the aftermath. Because he was out of a job, he suddenly looked at her and wondered what he had ever seen in her. Of course, if he’d been philandering up here in the Highlands, everyone would have known about it from the word go. Everyone knows everyone else’s business up here.”

“Except when it comes to witnessing a murder,” said Daviot.

“Now, that’s what’s so odd,” said Hamish. “Normally you can’t even take a walk across the moors without someone having seen you. I can only conclude the murderer was extremely lucky. Has Detective Mackenzie arrived?”

“Yes, she’s inside the unit. What do you think of her?”

“I think she is keen and ambitious. She’ll rise right to the top. Only trouble is she might not be too nice about how she gets there.” Hamish touched his cap. “I’ll just go inside and get my briefing. Give my best to your good wife, sir. Splendid woman.”

After the door of the unit had closed behind Hamish, Daviot stood for a long moment before angrily crushing out his cigarette. He was damn sure Hamish Macbeth had just given him a warning.

But his obsession for Robin gripped hard. He started guiltily when the door of the unit opened and she came out.

“Peter, darling,” she whispered. “A word with you.”

“What is it?”

“This press conference this evening. I was thinking the press can be very aggressive. I thought it might be a good idea if I fielded the questions for you.”

For the first time, Daviot wondered whether she was using him. The television cameras would be there. She was really too low in rank to even suggest such a thing.

“No, I do not think that’s a good idea at all. I am surprised you should even suggest such a thing. Please go back to your duties and remember to call me ‘sir.’ We are, after all, in the middle of a murder investigation.”

“But Peter…”

“Detective Mackenzie, please remember our relative positions.”

“Like the missionary one?” snapped Robin.

He took a deep breath. “I have made a bad mistake. Either get a transfer or get on with your work here. I do not want to see you outside work again.”

♦

“Hamish!” shouted Jimmy. “I’ve been trying to talk to you, and you’ve been glued to that window.”

“Sorry,” said Hamish, turning round.

“I want you to go and see Jock’s ex-wife again. I find it odd the way she’s hanging around.”

Robin came into the unit. Her face was red, and her eyes were angry.

“Take Detective Mackenzie with you,” said Jimmy.

Robin and Hamish walked in silence along to Sea View. Mrs. Dunne said Dora Fleming had left earlier, saying she was going up to the hotel to see Jock.

“We’ll take the Land Rover,” said Hamish. “It’s almost as if our Dora had something on Jock.”

They found Dora and Jock at a corner table in the bar. They were holding hands and talking urgently, their heads together.

They broke off when they saw Hamish and Robin. “What now?” asked Jock truculently.

“I really wanted to talk to Mrs. Fleming here,” said Hamish.

Jock rose to his feet. “Right. I’m off.”

They waited until he had left and sat down opposite Dora. Dora was picking a beermat apart with long red nails. Prostitutes are always terrible fidgets, thought Hamish.

Hamish looked at Robin, but she seemed lost in her own thoughts, so he began the questioning.

“I was wondering, Mrs. Fleming, why you’re still in Lochdubh. You must miss your children.”

“I was telt not to leave, and the children are just fine with my mither.”

“You and Jock appear to have patched up any differences.”

“What’s that to you?”

“Did you know that Hal Addenfest, the dead man, took notes of what everyone was saying?”

“No.”

“I find it hard to believe that you didn’t. Everyone in Lochdubh knew about it.”

“They don’t talk to me.”

“Come on. Mrs. Dunne gossips to everyone. I can ask her.”

“She may have said something. Wasnae important anyway. Nothing that goes on in this arsehole of the world is important.”

“I tell you what I’ll do for you,” said Hamish. “I’ll have a word with my boss and get you permission to leave.”

“I’ll leave when I’m good and ready.”

When they left her, Hamish saw Priscilla and Betty talking in the reception area. Betty gave him a wink and a cheeky smile. Priscilla’s face was smooth and expressionless.

“Where now?” asked Robin, jerking herself out of her thoughts with an effort.

“Back to Sea View. I wonder if Mrs. Dunne heard anything.”

“As far as I remember from the reports, she said she hadn’t.”

“Nonetheless, I would like to try again. I wonder if Dora Fleming was in her bed all night.”

♦

Mrs. Dunne complained she was too busy to answer any more questions. “That’s a pity,” said Robin, and then trotted out her usual compliment. “You see, people often do hear or see something and only remember it later. And you, being such an obviously quick-witted and intelligent lady, might just have remembered something.”

“What we’re after,” put in Hamish, “is whether you are sure that Dora Fleming spent all night in her bed.”

Mrs. Dunne stood frowning. She had been flattered by Robin’s compliment. “There was one thing,” she said slowly. “I thought I heard a wee noise at the back of the house.”

“Like what?”

“A sort of bang. I’ve got Mrs. Fleming here and a couple from Glasgow and three of the forestry workers. They were all in their rooms when I locked up. Och, I mind the days when I wouldn’t have bothered, but it’s a wicked world now.”

“Don’t the guests have their own keys?”

“I don’t trust anyone with the keys. I wait until they’re all indoors.”

“So how would anyone get out?”

“There’s the fire door at the back on the first.”

“Show it to us.”

She led the way upstairs and along a corridor on the first landing. Hamish studied the fire door, and then his sharp eyes noticed a small square wad of paper lying on the floor. He took out a pair of tweezers, lifted the paper, and put it in a cellophane envelope.

He thanked Mrs. Dunne and went back outside the building, followed by Robin.

“Why did you pick up that paper?” asked Robin.

“It could have been used to wedge the door so that someone could get back in again. Let’s get back to the unit and examine it properly.”

He explained to Jimmy what he had found. Then he took out the envelope and, putting on gloves, extracted the wad of paper. He laid it on Jimmy’s desk and gently opened it up. “It’s out o’ a film magazine,” Hamish said. “See, there’s a bit from the top of the page – Hollywood World . I’ll go over to Patel’s and see if he sold a copy to anyone.” Robin went with him.

Mr. Patel said he only ordered two copies a month, the locals being more interested in magazines that dealt with television soaps than anything to do with the movies.

“Who bought them?”

“Mrs. Wellington bought one.” Hamish blinked in amazement. He’d never have guessed that the tweedy minister’s wife would want to read about movie stars.

“And the other one?”

“Oh, it was that wee woman who was married to the artist.”

They hurried back to tell Jimmy. “Good work,” he said. “Bring her in.”

♦

They found Dora Fleming crossing the humpback bridge on her way to the boarding house. They marched her back to the police unit and took her inside.

“What’s this all about?” she demanded.

“This,” said Jimmy, pointing to the piece from the film magazine. “This was lying by the fire door at Sea View. We think you used it to wedge the fire door when you crept out so you’d be able to get back in again.”