M.C. Beaton - Death of a Glutton

“Oh, thon. Well, Priscilla, she wass kissing me, I wasnae kissing her.”

“Silly of me. But you really do encourage that sort of weak female.”

He smiled into her eyes. “I’d rather be kissing a strong one.”

He leaned towards her. Priscilla closed her eyes. The kitchen was warm and cosy with the stove crackling and the smell of coffee.

And then there was a hammering at the door.

“Damn. That’s probably Jenny and Jamie,” said Hamish. “Wait here. I’ll get rid of them.”

He opened the door. A policeman stood there, a very clean, neat, precise-looking policeman with light eyes, a thin narrow mouth and a very pointed nose.

He removed his cap, revealing short greased hair. “Constable Willie Lamont,” he said. “My stuff’s in the car. Will I bring it in, sir?”

“What stuff?” said Hamish in dismay.

“I am moving in, Sergeant Macbeth. I am your new constable.”

“It’s all right,” said Priscilla with a rueful laugh. “I’m going. Can I borrow your car, Hamish? I’ll send one of the hotel staff back with it.”

“Not the police car!” said Willie Lamont.

“Yes, the police car,” retorted Hamish crossly.

“Civilians are not allowed to drive police vehicles at any time,” said Willie primly. “In the rule book, page nine, paragraph five, it says – ”

“Take the car, Priscilla,” ordered Hamish.

“Don’t worry. Jamie’s probably looking for me.”

Priscilla went out into the twilight. Poor Hamish! What an awful copper he’d got saddled with. Probably Blair’s choice, she thought, not knowing it was Daviot’s.

Mrs Wellington, the minister’s wife, drove up and stopped beside Priscilla. “Can I give you a lift?” she asked.

Priscilla hesitated. Jamie’s Jaguar was still parked outside the restaurant, but she did not feel like going back to join him. Besides, he appeared delighted with Jenny.

“Thanks, Mrs Wellington,” she said, climbing into the battered station wagon.

♦

Inside the restaurant, Jamie and Jenny were down to the end of their second bottle of wine. He was really deliciously handsome, thought Jenny, and they had so much in common.

“What about a brandy for the road?” asked Jamie.

Jenny smiled. “I’d love that. Do you know, I just realized one marvellous thing. I get money from a family trust and Mummy can’t stop that, so I can take my law exams.”

“Forget about the brandy,” said Jamie. “This calls for champagne!”

Jenny giggled. He was really quite divine. And then a nasty voice in her head reminded her that Brian Mulligan had seemed really divine and then Matthew Cowper. She mentally jumped on that voice. Jamie was really wonderful. So strong, so masterful.

She wondered what it would be like to be a captain’s wife.