Death of a Valentine (8 page)

Priscilla frowned. ‘Do you think this Bill . . . how old is he?’

‘Older than her. Maybe getting on for fifty.’

‘I wonder if he or his father or anyone in his family were ever associated with the militant side of Scottish nationalism.’

‘There’s a point. I think I’ll pay them an evening visit.’ Hamish stood up and lingered by the office door. ‘I suppose I’d better say goodbye –
again.’

‘’Fraid so.’

He moved a little forward as if to kiss her. Priscilla sat down abruptly behind the desk and began to shuffle papers. Hamish trailed out with his dog and his cat behind him.

He stopped on a rise on the road before the wildlife park and let the dog and cat out. He knew they liked playing in the snow and they needed to run off some of the fat they
had gained by mooching in the kitchen of the Italian restaurant.

It was a bright moonlit frosty night. He smiled indulgently as Sonsie and Lugs tore through the snow.

It was on nights like this that Sutherland became a fairy county, all black and white, the silhouettes of the mountains rising up to a sky blazing with stars. He wished this murder could be
quickly solved. Then he would concentrate on getting rid of Josie.

He called his pets, helped them into the back of the car, and drove to the park. He could see the lights were on in the office. Something made him switch off the engine and the headlights and
cruise gently down the slope towards the office with the window open.

He slowly got down from the car and pressed his ear to the wall of the office. He heard Jocasta’s voice. ‘I’m telling you. She said she saw you at Annie’s house. It was
one day a month ago when Annie said she was ill and you said you were going into Strathbane. She says you were in there for two hours!’

‘If you’re going to believe every malicious auld biddy in Braikie, you’re dafter than I thought.’

‘Yes, daft enough to sink my money into this failure. I’m leaving you.’

‘Oh, come here, darlin’,’ wheedled Bill. ‘You know I’d be lost without you.’

‘But you went to her house!’

‘I swear to God I never went near her.’

Hamish thought he had heard enough. If one of the neighbours had seen Bill, why hadn’t they told the police? Was it Mrs McGirty? Or Cora Baxter?

He knocked loudly on the office door. Jocasta opened it. Her eyes were red with weeping.

‘Have I come at a bad time?’ asked Hamish.

‘No, no, don’t worry about me. I haven’t been crying. Just some sort of allergy.’

Hamish followed her into the office. There was a flash of fear in Bill’s eyes, quickly masked.

‘What kind of person was Annie Fleming?’ asked Hamish.

‘Ask Bill,’ said Jocasta. ‘I’m going up to the house. Good night.’

Hamish waited until the door had closed behind her and then repeated his question.

‘She was all right,’ said Bill.

‘Did you have an affair with her?’

‘What a question tae ask!’ spluttered Bill. ‘And me a happily married man.’

‘Come off it. You were seen spending an afternoon at her house by the neighbours.’

‘I went to discuss the business wi’ her. She’s my secretary.’

‘Maybe you’ll just be calling your wife to confirm that.’

Bill crumpled. ‘Don’t do that. Look, it wasnae me that seduced her. It was the other way around. I couldnae believe my luck, and that’s a fact. It was just the one afternoon,
that’s all. Then she went on as if nothing had happened.’

‘When was this?’

‘About a month ago. Please don’t tell the wife.’

‘That I cannae promise. Do you have any training at all in chemistry?’

‘Not a bit. Lousy at school all round.’

‘You’ll need to stand by for more questioning. Don’t go to bed.’

Hamish went out to the Land Rover and called Jimmy. ‘What is it now?’ groaned Jimmy.

‘You’d best get out to the wildlife park and pull Bill Freemont in for questioning. He spent at least the one afternoon in bed wi’ Annie Fleming.’

‘I’ll get out there. What if he denies the whole thing?’

‘I’ve got it on tape,’ said Hamish.

‘Have you really? Or is that just one of your convenient lies?’

‘No, I’ve got it all right. I’m off. I don’t want to be caught poaching on Strathbane’s territory. I’ll wait for you at the top of the road.’

Hamish waited patiently for what seemed like a long time before Jimmy turned up with Andy MacNab and two policemen following in another car.

‘Right, Hamish, where’s the tape?’ said Jimmy. Hamish took a small, powerful tape recorder out of his pocket and handed it to Jimmy.

‘Odd that,’ said Jimmy. ‘I never think of you as being high-tech. I wouldn’t have been surprised if you’d written your notes up in the snow. Come on, lads.
I’ll keep you posted, Hamish.’

The more she landed in disgrace with Hamish, the more Josie’s obsession with him grew, and her obsession with alcohol grew along with it. As Hamish was making his way
back to Lochdubh, Josie sat in her room at the manse in front of the peat fire and dreamt of becoming his wife. In her mind, she remodelled the police station. There would need to be room for a
nursery for the three children she planned to have.

It was only when she awoke in the morning with a hangover that she conjured up one sensible idea. If she worked hard investigating and maybe solved this case, Hamish would admire her. He would
want her company instead of looking at her flat-eyed.

Hamish was relieved and surprised when Josie reported to the police station and suggested that she should do some investigative work in Braikie and go round the town and try to ferret out more
of Annie’s friends. Hamish filled her in with what he had found out about Bill Freemont.

Josie looked so neat and efficient in her newly sponged and pressed uniform that he offered her a coffee. Josie sat down happily at the kitchen table and looked around. It was a very small
kitchen but could be extended. That old-fashioned stove would have to go. And the other thing that would have to go, she thought, eyeing the dog and cat who were slumbering together in front of the
stove, was those wretched animals of his. She would get pregnant quickly and tell Hamish that his pets would cause allergies.

Hamish handed her a mug of coffee. ‘It’s odd, isn’t it?’ he said in his lilting highland voice. ‘At first it seemed as if this murder was the work of some maniac.
Now it turns out Annie was what Scotland Yard would call a murderee, someone who works people up so much that she’s bound to get bumped off sooner or later.’

‘Or maybe it has something to do with drugs,’ said Josie. ‘I mean, Stardust, the disco owned by Barry Fitzcameron. He owns a couple of pubs as well. He plays the part of the
good citizen, gives a lot to charity, that sort of thing. But when I was waiting for you at headquarters, I heard one of the policemen complaining about that raid on the disco. He said they
couldn’t even find an under-aged drinker, let alone any drugs, and he thought Barry had been tipped off. Because one thing I did notice in that disco was that some of the drinkers were
definitely under-aged.’

Hamish looked at her thoughtfully. He wondered why Blair hadn’t jumped at the idea of being there at the raid. ‘Which pubs does he own?’ he asked.

‘The Clarty Duck and The Stag.’

‘Interesting.’

The phone in the office rang. ‘I wonder if I should answer that,’ said Hamish. ‘It’s after nine and we should be at work. Better leave it.’ He cocked an ear as his
answering machine picked up a message. ‘Hamish, this is Jimmy. Jake Cullen made bail. He was shot dead on the steps of the sheriff’s court.’ Hamish rushed into the office and
snatched up the phone. ‘You still there? It’s me, Hamish.’

‘Did you get that?’ asked Jimmy.

‘Yes, any witnesses?’

‘Only the one. Some poor auld granny has a flat opposite the court. A masked gunman came in the night before and told her to shut up or he’d kill her. He tied her to the bed. Then
she said he just sat there, smoking and waiting. She thought he was going to kill her. Then she fell asleep. She said she was exhausted with fear. She awoke to the sound of the shot. Then he just
ran out. It seems he set up at the window with a rifle – maybe a deer rifle – and shot Jake. It smells of a professional hit. And that screams at me that our oh-so-clean and worthy
citizen Barry Fitzcameron might be behind it. We’re going to be tied up here for a good bit. You and McSween get over to Braikie and see what you can dig up.’

‘On our way,’ said Hamish. He went back into the kitchen. Josie wasn’t there. He walked into his living room. Josie wheeled around and blushed.

‘If you want to examine my home again,’ said Hamish severely, ‘ask! Now let’s get going. You find out what you can about her friends. Start off with the school. Maybe her
messing about started there. I’ll check back with the neighbours.’

‘I’m sorry,’ whispered Josie. ‘It’s just I’ve never properly seen all round a highland police station before.’

And never will again, thought Hamish. He ushered her out and then went out to his Land Rover followed by his dog and cat.

Josie drove miserably in the direction of Braikie. Before Hamish had caught her, she had opened the door of the spare room which led off the living room and had blinked in amazement at the
amount of rusty junk. And he had just been beginning to thaw towards her. She was determined to work hard all day and not give up until she came up with just one clue.

Hamish followed her, his mind turning over thoughts about Blair. Then he mentally shrugged. It need not have been anyone as high up as Blair. It could have been anyone at police headquarters,
down to the cleaners. If Josie was right, and there was under-aged drinking usually at the disco, then it stood to reason that Barry had been tipped off.

The day was fine and cold. He slowed down on the shore road. Men were working on the seawall. The tide was out. They were working hard. He stopped and rolled down the window. ‘Got your
funds?’ he called to the foreman.

‘Aye, but we can only work when the tide’s out, otherwise we get battered wi’ the waves.’

Hamish drove on until he reached the quiet street where Annie had lived. He decided to call on Cora Baxter first. The councillor’s wife answered the door. ‘Oh, it’s you,’
she said. ‘Come in.’

Hamish wondered at first if everything in the living room was new and decided he was looking at terrifying housekeeping. The sun shone through the glittering windows on to a glass coffee table
where magazines were arranged in exact precision to line up with the edges of the table. The three-piece suite was in red leather, and the haircord brown fitted carpet was covered in hooked rugs.
Hamish reflected she had probably made them herself. He had seen many like them at church sales. One bar was lit in an electric heater in front of the fireplace. The mantel was covered in little
glass figures: he noticed a Bambi and a Snow White along with the Seven Dwarfs.

On a round table by the window was a cut-glass vase full of silk flowers. To one side of the fireplace was a large flat-screen television.

Hamish removed his cap and sat down on the sofa. The leather made an embarrassing fart noise. Cora stood in front of the fireplace. She was a stocky woman with bright blonde hair set in tight
curls over a pugnacious face. She had small blue suspicious-looking eyes.

‘Well,
Constable?
’ she demanded.

Hamish repressed a sigh. From his experience councillors like Jamie Baxter, no matter how easy-going, often had wives who considered themselves a cut above the local community.

He stood up and approached her, looming over her. It had the desired effect.

‘Oh, do sit down,’ said Cora. Hamish went back to the sofa, which welcomed his bottom with a loud raspberry. Cora sat in one of the leather armchairs, but the chair, no doubt knowing
what was due to her dignity, did not make a sound.

Hamish opened his notebook. ‘I am making inquiries about Annie Fleming.’

‘Yes?’

‘Did you phone Mrs Freemont and tell her that her husband had been seen going into Annie Fleming’s house to spend the afternoon with her? I must remind you that phone calls can be
checked.’

‘Well, I felt it my duty,’ said Cora truculently.

‘Do you know if this happened more than once?’

‘I only saw him the one time.’

‘And when was this?’

‘About a month ago.’

‘Any other men?’

‘Just once. An unsavoury-looking character. He had gelled hair and one of those black leather jackets. I would say he was around thirty years old.’

Jake, thought Hamish bitterly. That’s a dead end in every sense.

‘What did you think of Annie?’ asked Hamish. ‘And did you tell any of this to her parents?’

‘First, I did mention both visits to her parents. Her father was furious with me. He said his daughter was pure and I was a malicious woman who would burn in hellfire. Annie wouldn’t
burn anywhere, she was as cold as ice – butter wouldn’t have melted in that girl’s mouth. I saw them going off to the kirk a few Sundays before she died. Mr and Mrs Fleming put
their noses in the air. But Annie turned round and gave me a nasty little smile before she walked on. I thought she was a devious tart.’

‘Why didn’t you tell the police any of this?’ demanded Hamish. ‘You’ve been withholding vital evidence.’

‘I wasn’t going to sully her memory until after the funeral.’

‘But you did just that by phoning Mrs Freemont, and by trying to blacken the girl’s name with her parents. Is there anything more?’

‘No, but I don’t like your attitude. Do remember my husband is a town councillor.’

‘Which means damn all in a murder investigation,’ said Hamish, and warned her he would be back to ask her more questions later.

Outside, he phoned Jimmy. ‘Any news about the murder?’

‘Nothing. That old woman might have been left there till she died o’ shock and starvation if we hadn’t searched all the flats opposite and found her. She’s in hospital
for observation but she’s a game auld bird and I think she’ll survive the shock all right. He never took the balaclava off but she said he was pretty well built and wearing a black
sweater and black trousers.’