Death of Yesterday (19 page)

I wonder if there’s madness in this family, thought Hamish wearily.

“Look,” he said, “take the matter up with headquarters in Strathbane.”

“I have already done so. They gave me the same load of rubbish you have just done. I had hoped for honesty from you.”

“And you got it,” said Hamish coldly. “Your sister was a stone-hard serial killer.”

“You will all be hearing from my lawyers!”

“Do that.”

“You haven’t heard the last of this.”

He stormed off.

Hamish shrugged and went into the office to phone Elspeth. She didn’t answer her home phone and her mobile was switched off.

Elspeth awoke the next morning. Her head was hammering and her mouth was dry. Bits of the previous evening came back to her
in flashes of memory. She remembered flirting with the leader of the Sheratons, Steve Bunty.

Elspeth looked up at the ceiling and stiffened in horror. She was looking up at a reflection of herself and beside her on
the bed was a naked man, lying on his back. It was Steve Bunty.

She swung her legs over the edge of the bed. She was fully dressed. I must have passed out, she thought in a panic. I’d better
get out of here before he wakes up. Thank goodness Hamish is up in the Highlands. If he ever got to hear of this, we’d be
finished. She glanced at her watch. It was noon. Barry Dalrymple must be looking for her.

Hamish strolled along to Patel’s late the following afternoon to buy a copy of the
Scottish Evening Bulletin
. He liked settling down with the crossword, which was easy and made him feel clever.

“Haven’t got a copy left,” said Mr. Patel.

“How’s that? Good story?”

“Mr. Fraser bought every copy in the shop.”

Hamish laughed. “Must be some sort of competition in it, although why he wants the whole lot, I can’t even begin to imagine.”

He could not find Dick in the police station but smoke was drifting from a bonfire up at the back.

If that’s Dick, what on earth is he doing? wondered Hamish. He’ll choke my sheep with all that smoke.

He ran up to the field at the back. Dick was stuffing piles of newspaper into a fire in an old oil drum.

His back was to Hamish and he did not hear him coming. Hamish seized a newspaper from a pile on the grass. There on the front
page was a large headline:
ELSPETH GRANT GETS CARRIED AWAY
.

Below it was a large photograph of Elspeth flung over the shoulder of a naked man who was wearing nothing but a leather thong.
Dick turned round and saw Hamish and hung his head. He had been feeling guilty at trying to break up Hamish’s engagement and
had been trying to make amends by hiding the news item from him.

Elspeth suffered a lot of teasing at the television studios. What was a drunken horror to her seemed to be a great lark to
the rest of them. They had all got very drunk and Steve had performed an impromptu striptease. He had then grabbed Elspeth
who hardly knew what was happening and had run off with her. With a large number of the public now having phones that took
photographs, they had been snapped outside just as Steve was getting them both into a taxi.

Elspeth looked dismally at her mobile phone. Hamish again. What on earth was she going to say to him?

At last, she finally answered and said in a small voice, “I suppose you’ve seen the newspaper. I didn’t do anything. I just
passed out.”

“I don’t think that really makes it all right,” said Hamish slowly. “Your life down there seems foreign tae me. I don’t think
I really know you, Elspeth.”

“What about you, Mr. High and Mighty?” demanded Elspeth. “Yes, I went out to get drunk because every time I phoned Lochdubh
all I heard was that you were wining and dining Priscilla.”

“That’s different. She’s an old friend.”

“Like hell she is!”

“So it’s my fault you’re smooching a stripper?”

“Exactly.”

“You’re mad.”

“I suppose you want your ring back?”

“Keep it. It’ll remind you of dear Steve.”

Elspeth rang off. Hamish sat for a long time with his head in his hands. Then he went into the living room where Dick was
sitting sadly looking at a catalogue of caravans.

“You can put that catalogue away, Dick,” said Hamish quietly. “The engagement’s off.”

“Och, Hamish, I’m right sorry. Is there anything I can do?”

“No, find something on that TV of yours. I don’t want to think.”

Dick scrolled through the selections on the menu and settled on an American cop show.

Hamish stared at it blindly for ten minutes and then said abruptly, “I’m off for a walk.”

He met Angela Brodie on the waterfront. “I saw the evening paper,” she said.

“So Dick didn’t manage to buy up all of them?”

“I’m afraid not. Unfortunately, the Currie sisters got hold of one first. It’s all over the village. Poor Elspeth.”

“Why poor Elspeth?”

“It must be awful being a celebrity.”

They leaned on the waterfront in silence. Angela looked sideways at Hamish’s downcast face.

“I think that news item really upset you, Hamish.”

“It did. The fact is, we were engaged to be married and now it’s all off.”

“Oh, Hamish, did she explain?”

“She heard I’d been dining with Priscilla and went out to get drunk.”

“I can understand that, Hamish. Everyone knows you’ve always had a yen for Priscilla.”

“Yes, but I know nothing of Elspeth’s lifestyle down there. Her friends would probably think I was some sort of hick from
the sticks. She’d only be able to see me at week-ends. What happens if we have a row? She’d probably end up in another scandal.”

“That’s a bit hard.”

“I’d neffer be able to trust her again.”

And she won’t be able to trust you, thought Angela sadly.

“What about the Palfours?” she asked.

“The case comes up in a month. I’ll have to go to the High Court to testify.”

“Have they arrested anyone else who worked at the factory?”

“No, why?”

“There was something about a lot of money in the safe. Why wasn’t it in the bank?”

Hamish told her.

“But surely the accountant was in on it. Or Gilchrist’s secretary.”

“He evidently persuaded his Polish accountant that he liked to keep a certain amount of cash out of the bank because he didn’t
trust banks. He said he would eventually declare it and pay taxes on it. She desperately needed the work and so she went along
with it.”

“I suppose no one trusts banks these days. That lot from the bank who were wining and dining at the hotel were ordering the
most expensive wines, despite the fact that the bank had to be bailed out with taxpayer’s money. Oh, here’s the minister.
I think he’s looking for you. See you soon.”

Angela walked off as the minister, Mr. Wellington, came up to join Hamish. “I just wondered if you were in need of some spiritual
help,” he said.

“No, no, I’m chust fine,” said Hamish, embarrassed.

“I always find forgiveness is the thing,” said Mr. Wellington solemnly. “God will help you forget the horrors of murder.”

“Aye, well, I’ll remember that,” said Hamish, shuffling his boots. “Got to go. Got a report to write.”

“Remember! Forgiveness!” called the minister after him.

Odd wee man, thought Hamish. But living with that bully of a wife is enough to make anyone strange.

When Hamish returned to the police station, Dick said, “Sit yourself down and I’ll get your supper.”

Hamish looked around the cosy kitchen. Time to count my blessings, he thought. The murders are solved, life is quiet again,
and I’ve still got my police station.

And somewhere out there, there’s some girl who would make a grand wife. All I have to do is wait…and hope.

Death of a Kingfisher

Death of a Chimney Sweep

Death of a Valentine

Death of a Witch

Death of a Gentle Lady

Death of a Maid

Death of a Dreamer

Death of a Bore

Death of a Poison Pen

Death of a Village

Death of a Celebrity

Death of a Dustman

Death of an Addict

Death of a Scriptwriter

Death of a Dentist

Death of a Macho Man

Death of a Nag

Death of a Charming Man

Death of a Travelling Man

Death of a Greedy Woman

Death of a Prankster

Death of a Snob

Death of a Hussy

Death of a Perfect Wife

Death of an Outsider

Death of a Cad

Death of a Gossip

A Highland Christmas