M.C. Beaton - Death of a Dreamer

“She’s hanged herself, Hamish.”

“What? How?”

“With her tights on the bars of her cell.”

“I thought they would take anything like that away from her.”

“There’s going to be an enquiry, and that means statements and forms and bureaucracy by the mile. You’d better come over tomorrow and make a statement about her condition when you saw her last.”

“I’ll send it over, Jimmy. I’m heartsick about the whole business.”

“Well, it’ll save the state a trial.”

“Did she leave a note?”

“She wrote on the back of a letter from Jock Fleming. It simply said, “You’ve killed me, Jock.””

Hamish felt a sudden burst of anger. “I’m going over to see that bastard tomorrow. If he hadn’t been stringing her along, these murders might never have taken place.”

“Don’t punch him,” said Jimmy wearily, “or he’ll charge you with assault and you’ll lose your job.”

“I’ll keep my hands behind my back.”

“Good man.”

“How’s Blair?”

“Who cares? As far as I know, he’s back home convalescing. See you.”

Elspeth came out of the bathroom. She was made-up and wearing a filmy gown of green silk chiffon and high heels.

“You look a picture,” said Hamish. He bent and kissed her cheek. “I’ll put on my best suit.”

“You mean your only suit,” said Elspeth.

He went off into the bathroom to shower and then into the bedroom to dress.

Elspeth smiled to herself as she heard him whistling. Everything was going to be all right.

The phone rang. Hamish went into the office.

“Hamish?” said Priscilla’s voice.

“Who else?” said Hamish coldly.

“Hamish, I saw the story in the newspapers, and I think I should explain.”

“Explain what?”

“I was on my way to see you when I met Betty Barnard. She asked me where I was going, and I said I was going to see you because Angela Brodie had phoned me to say you had a concussion. Betty said, “Don’t worry. As his future wife, I think I should be the one to take care of him.” I now realise she was probably lying.”

“Why did you believe her?”

“I had seen the pair of you together. I thought you were in love with her, Hamish.”

Hamish gripped the receiver hard. “Tell me, Priscilla, if at the time you believed Betty, why should you care? You’re engaged to be married.”

“ Was engaged to be married.”

Hamish could feel his heart beating hard. “Was?”

“Yes. I broke it off as soon as I got back. It wasn’t working out. I’m tired of London. I’m thinking of coming back and working at the hotel. I miss my home.”

“That’ll be grand. When?”

“I’ll need to give a month’s notice. After that, I suppose.”

“I’ll look forward to it.”

Hamish said goodbye and slowly replaced the receiver. She was coming home for good. Priscilla was coming back. But she hadn’t said why she was so upset when Betty lied to her about marrying him.

He finished dressing and went into the kitchen. Elspeth smiled at him and said, “Don’t you look…” and then the smile faded from her face.

“Priscilla,” she said flatly. “That was Priscilla on the phone.”

“Yes.”

“And?”

Hamish’s face flamed. “It wass a private conversation.”

“You poor sucker. She keeps jerking your chain.”

“You’ve got no right to speak to me like that.”

Elspeth sighed. “One’s as bad as the other. She sat at this table one evening and told me how she was looking forward to her wedding to dear Peter.”

“I don’t want to talk about her!” howled Hamish.

“You may as well take me for dinner,” said Elspeth. “Otherwise I’d be all dressed up and nowhere to go.”

♦

Hamish and Elspeth tried to make conversation during dinner, but their silences lengthened.

“This is hopeless,” said Elspeth finally. “Stay and finish your wine. I’m going back to pack.”

“Stay the night.”

“I’d rather stop somewhere on the road. Thanks for the story, thanks for getting me my job back, and I hope you and Priscilla Halburton-Smythe will be truly miserable.”

She stalked out.

Hamish stayed where he was, feeling guilty. But as he saw her car drive past, a surge of elation went through him. Priscilla was coming home to the Highlands.

♦

The next day, Hamish drove over to the caravan park at Cnothan. Jock and Dora were sitting on deck chairs outside their caravan.

“Betty’s dead,” said Hamish, standing over them.

“How? What happened?” asked Jock.

“She got your letter and hanged herself in her cell. You are a piece of scum. If you hadn’t led her on, she might never have murdered those two folk.”

“Och, get off your high horse. Don’t tell me you’ve never led some woman on.”

A picture of Elspeth rose before Hamish’s eyes. He shook his head to get rid of it.

“Don’t cross my path again,” he said. “In fact, get off my beat, or I’ll make your lives a misery.”

Hamish stalked off. Then he had a sudden thought. He got into the Land Rover and telephoned Jimmy. “Betty didn’t say anything about sewing the cocaine into the curtains when I was there.”

“We interviewed her later when she stopped screaming. We had to fill in the blanks. Yes, she confessed to that and to defacing Priscillas portrait.”

“Pity,” said Hamish. “I’d ha’ loved to arrest one of that pair.”

♦

As Hamish drove back towards Lochdubh, he suddenly thought of Detective Chief Inspector Blair. He felt sure no one had gone to visit him. He wrestled with his conscience and then decided a ten-minute call would be all right.

He bought a bottle of whisky and drove to the housing estate in Strathbane where Blair lived.

It was a semi-detached house with a weedy garden in front. He rang the doorbell and waited, hearing shuffling from inside.

Blair opened the door and blinked up at Hamish. He was leaning on a pair of crutches.

“What is it?” he demanded.

“I brought you a present and came to see how you were,” said Hamish.

Blair snatched the bottle from him, snarled, “I know you, you came to gloat. Bastard!” and slammed the door in Hamish’s face.

Hamish walked away, shaking his head and giving his conscience a talking-to. “Now, wasn’t that a waste of time?” he raged. A woman passing by gave him a nervous look.

He drove into the centre of Strathbane and parked the Land Rover. He would take a look around the shops and treat himself to lunch.

Hamish was not used to having money to spend on himself, and he felt quite profligate as he bought himself a new pair of shoes, his old ones having fallen apart a long time ago. The odd times he had worn a suit, he had worn his regulation boots with it.

He was just leaving the shoe shop when he saw Robin Mackenzie on the other side of the street. Hamish hailed her. “I thought you were in Inverness.”

“I came up to get the last of my stuff. I was just taking a last look round,” said Robin.

“What about lunch?”

“All right. There’s quite a good Chinese here.”

Inside the restaurant, Hamish asked her, “How do you think you’ll get on in Inverness?”

“It’s not too bad. Better than Strathbane. I know I did the wrong thing, Hamish, but so did Daviot, and the way he got on his moral high horse makes me sick.”

“Aye, but the man’s at that dangerous middle age, and when a young woman like you throws herself at him, he’s easy prey.”

“Never mind. Tell me all about the case.”

Hamish talked as they ate. When he finished, Robin asked, “So what happened to Effie’s mobile phone?”