M.C. Beaton - Death of a Dreamer

“Still not a sign of the Barnard woman,” said Jimmy. “That bleeding artist can get his paints out and draw us a picture of her.”

“No need,” said Hamish heavily, “I have a photo of her.”

“How did you get that?”

“We were friendly. We went out on a picnic once, and I took my camera. The film hasn’t been developed, but I’m heading back to Lochdubh. I’ll meet you at the police station and give it to you.”

♦

“Everyone’s on to digital cameras these days,” grumbled Jimmy. “This camera of yours should be put in a museum.”

“Don’t complain. There’s the film.”

“Why did we never think of Betty Barnard?”

“Because she seemed the only sane one of the lot of them,” said Hamish. “I thought the hotel was searched from top to bottom.”

“Not really their fault. They were concentrating on the rooms, not the basement. I’ll get off to Strathbane with this film. If I hurry, we can just make the morning edition of the newspapers with her photo.”

After he had gone, Hamish decided to visit Caro. He felt she had a right to know that her sister’s killer had been found.

Caro eyed him warily when she opened the door to him. “What now?”

“Can I come in? We’ve found who killed Effie.”

She looked at him with startled eyes and then turned away as he followed her in.

“Who is it?” she asked.

“Betty Barnard.”

“What? But she was up here the other day. She was going to be my agent, and I was very excited because she is so high-powered. How? Why?”

“The how is because she turned out to be a champion diver. She came out of the loch to attack the American. She killed him, so it stands to reason she killed Effie. I can only guess she was crazily in love with: Jock. When Effie said she was pregnant, Betty must have been so mad with jealousy that she believed her.”

“What did she say when you arrested her?”

“We haven’t got her. She’s on the run. But don’t worry. We’ll catch her.”

Caro sat down and looked up at the tall figure of the policeman. “So,” she said slowly, “she must have been as obsessed as poor Effie.”

“Though in her case, a fantasy turned into reality,” said Hamish. “Most people just dream of killing someone. She put it into action. What is it about Jock Fleming that drives women mad? He just seemed at first like a nice, easy-going fellow.”

“He exudes a strong sexual excitement and danger. I think some people carry around a sort of strong chemical in their make-up. I was drawn to him myself.”

“Will you go back south now?”

“I don’t know. Brighton is so noisy and crowded. It is so beautiful here.”

“Don’t leave Brighton yet,” said Hamish. “The winters here can be awful, long, and dark.”

“Do you get much snow?”

“Occasionally we get terrible blizzards, but we’re near the Gulf Stream, and that keeps us a bit milder than central Scotland. But it’s a lonely life up here on the moors.”

“I’m only a short drive from the village. If I stay, the first thing I’ll do is get that corrugated iron off the roof and replaced with tiles. When it rains, the noise just goes on and on.”

♦

When Hamish got back to the police station, it was to find Elspeth had arrived. Although he had locked up the station, Elspeth, like the locals, knew he kept a spare key in the gutter above the door.

“Right, Elspeth,” he said. “Get out your notebook, and I’ll tell you what I know.” Hamish experienced a sudden guilty pang. He had promised Matthew the story.

Elspeth wrote busily. Hamish broke off to say, “Remember, you got this information from the hotel staff. You can say we’re hunting for Betty Barnard, because her photo’s going out to the papers tonight. Chust say she’s wanted for questioning.”

“Why did she do it?”

“I don’t know if you can say this. Well, maybe you can say it’s local speculation that she was in love with Jock Fleming. It was well known in the village that Hal took notes. He may have seen something relating to the murder and told Betty. I think she romanced him when nobody was looking and then phoned him that night and arranged to meet him on the beach. She probably drove down to the far side of the loch and got into her diving gear in the shelter of the trees, dived into the loch, and swam across. He was so intent on staring up at the waterfront, waiting for her to arrive, that he didnae hear her coming.”

“I’ll say it’s thanks to your brilliant deduction that they found out it was her,” said Elspeth.

“No, give Jimmy Anderson the credit. He’s been marvellous to work for.”

“If you say so.”

“Go into the office. You can use my computer, type it out, and e·mail it across. I’ll make up the bed in the cell. I’d give you my bed, but” – he hesitated and then went on defiandy – “die dog and cat aye sleep wi’ me.”

“The cell is fine, Hamish.”

When Elspeth went off into the office, Hamish took the dog and cat out for a walk and then returned to get dinner ready. Archie had left six mackerel on the kitchen table. Hamish cooked one for Sonsie and then fried some liver for Lugs. He boiled potatoes, and when they were nearly ready, he took two of the mackerel, gutted them, dipped them in egg, rolled them in oatmeal, and fried them in the pan.

He then put a bowl of oatmeal on the table and a block of butter.

When Elspeth came back in, he asked, “All done?”

“Yes, finished and sent over.”

“Sit down and help yourself.”

Elspeth speared a fluffy potato, rolled it in the oatmeal, and ate it with a lump of butter before tackling the fish.

At the end of the meal, the phone in the office rang. Hamish went to answer it.

“Liddesdale here,” said the voice at the other end. “Remember me? I’m the editor of the Bugle .”

“Yes?”

“Elspeth Grant has filed a great story, but we’re nervous about using it before checking with you first.”

“Read it to me,” said Hamish.

He listened as Liddesdale read it over. When he finished, Hamish said, “My, I don’t know where she got all that information from, but it’s accurate. She always was the best.”

“You sound as if you’ve forgiven her.”

“We go back a long way. Look, if you give her her job back, I won’t cash that cheque.”

“You’re kidding!”

“No, I mean it. I havenae cashed it yet.”

“That’s very generous of you. But it’s already gone through the books. Just keep it. Do you know where Elspeth is?”

“She checked a lot of the facts with me. Strathbane will be sending you a photo of Betty Barnard. Elspeth’s around and about. She’s got her mobile phone with her. If you don’t want her, she’ll probably get herself a job on the Daily Record ”

“She doesn’t want to go to them,” said Liddesdale. The Daily Record was their biggest rival. “I’ll speak to her.”

Hamish went back into the kitchen. “That was Liddesdale checking your story. I told him you were thinking of applying for a job on the Record . He’s going to phone you on your mobile.”

Elspeth’s phone in her bag rang.

She took it out and went back through to the office. She was on the phone quite a long time. Then she came back.

“I’ve got my job back. Hamish, Liddesdale says you even offered to give them their money back if he re-employed me.”

“Chust a thought,” mumbled Hamish, rattling the dishes in the sink.

“After all I did to you, too. I don’t know how to thank you.”

“Let’s talk about something else, Elspeth. You’ll need to do a follow-up.”

“I’ll get up first thing in the morning and interview everyone at the hotel.”