When they had left, Lugs stared up at his master with his odd blue eyes.
“I hope she disnae find out Charlie’s living at the hotel,” said Hamish. “Oh, to hell with it. Come on. I’m going to the Italian restaurant. I could do wi’ comfort food.”
Charlie had failed to tell the colonel that his bosses did not know he was living at the hotel. The colonel greeted Charlie warmly and Fiona nervously. “Is there somewhere we can sit?” asked Fiona as they stood in the entrance hall.
And to Charlie’s horror, he heard the colonel say, “We can use Charlie’s place. I lit the fire.”
Fiona said nothing until they were in the little apartment and Charlie had arranged chairs for the three of them in front of the fire.
“Peat fires are supposed to send out a pleasant scent,” said Fiona, “but I always think they smell like old socks. Right, Colonel. According to Charlie here, you are worried about your dinner with the dead woman. But you have a cast-iron alibi.”
“Gloria kissed me in front of the staff,” mumbled the colonel, staring at the worn hearthrug.
“The dead woman had a reputation of being a shameless flirt at best and a nymphomaniac and gold digger at the worst. I am not here to interrogate you. I am here to ask you to go upstairs and gather the staff, such as are not on duty, in the reception. I want to ask them questions.”
“Certainly.” The colonel beamed at Charlie. “Follow me up. I think your best bet is the maids. They have rooms at the top. I would start with them first. The waiters will be serving dinner.”
The most forthcoming maid was, to Fiona’s relief, Scottish, and prepared to talk freely, unlike the other three who hailed from Eastern Europe. Her name was Elsie Dunbar, a small girl with a mop of black hair and a spotty face.
“I can tell you about one man,” she said. “It was Mr. Fitzwilliam. He’s left now. I went to clean the room because he was due to leave and it was past the checkout time. I heard an angry voice and a woman shouting.”
“And you listened at the door?” prompted Charlie.
She blushed. “Oh, well, I was that curious. I heard a woman shouting, ‘I don’t do this sort of thing for nothing.’ Then I heard the man say nastily, ‘Get out, you slut.’ She came out crying and nearly knocked me over.”
Fiona turned to the manager, who was listening. “We’ll need Fitzwilliam’s address and phone number. Anyone else, Miss Dunbar?”
“That’s all I know. The other maids don’t talk much to me, them being foreign.”
When she left, Charlie suggested, “What about the barman? That’s where she was supposed to pick men up.”
The barman supplied six names of guests, but they all had left. Mr. Johnson, the manager, went off to check the records for addresses.
“I think that’s enough for now, and I’m hungry,” said Fiona.
“Charlie usually joins us for dinner,” said the colonel. “I would be honoured if you would be my guest.”
Fiona flashed an amused look at Charlie and said, “Lead the way. Most kind of you.”
The colonel saw to his alarm that his wife was already seated at their usual table. But Fiona began to question Charlie about what he thought about the case so far. Charlie shrugged his broad shoulders. “The suspects seem to be building up,” he said. “It’s going to take a lot of research unless Hamish gets one of his flashes of intuition.”
“He seems to have a great track record,” said Fiona.
“Overrated,” said the colonel crossly.
“Now, dear,” his wife put in, “you are only cross because he broke off his engagement with Priscilla. Priscilla is our daughter, Inspector.”
“I was delighted,” said the colonel. “My only fear is that they might get back together again. I just wish Priscilla would find someone decent, like Charlie here.”
“I am sure all the local ladies are after Charlie.” Fiona looked amused.
“I havenae noticed,” protested Charlie.
Mrs. Halburton-Smythe began to talk about a fund-raiser to start a food bank in Braikie for the poor.
“The trouble about those food banks,” said Fiona, “is that the elderly who really need help are too proud to go and it is too often the layabouts who want to keep money for what they consider essentials like cigarettes and booze.”
“Maybe not all,” said Charlie gently. “I’ll help out on my day off, if you like.”
The colonel and his wife beamed at Charlie. They look on him almost like a son, thought Fiona.
After a comforting dinner, Hamish strolled back to the station with his pets at his heels. Once inside, he phoned Mr. Johnson at the hotel and received the news that both Fiona and Charlie were dining with the colonel and his wife. He was in the office when he heard the kitchen door opening and then Jimmy Anderson’s voice calling, “Anyone at home?”
Hamish went through to the kitchen. Jimmy looked tired but sober.
“What a day. I could do wi’ a dram.”
“Oh, all right. But just the one.”