“I’ll go, if you like,” said Charlie.
“No!” said Fiona with unnecessary force. “You go now, Macbeth.”
Hamish left with his pets following at his heels.
At the hotel, Priscilla was in the gift shop and saw him driving up and ran out to meet him. “What a horrible woman!” she exclaimed.
“Oh, herself is all right,” said Hamish awkwardly. “I’d like another word wi’ that maid, Elsie Dunbar.”
“I’ll see if she’s still in the hotel. Wait in reception.”
After a few minutes, Priscilla reappeared with Elsie in tow.
“Now, Elsie,” said Hamish, “let’s go into the lounge and sit down. I’d like to go over your statement again.”
“I’ve said all I’ve got to say,” said Elsie stubbornly.
“Aye? Just a few more wee questions.”
When they were settled in a corner of the lounge, Hamish studied her mulish face and then said gently, “I know you were lying. And that’s a crime. Defeating the ends of justice can mean a prison sentence. So let’s have the real story.”
Elsie began to sob. Hamish waited patiently until she had dried her eyes and said, “If you tell the truth now, I’ll make sure no charges are laid against you.”
She twisted her sodden handkerchief between her fingers. “My boyfriend, Graham Southey, works in the bar. She was always flirting with him and he was not charging her for drinks. I was sure he was going to propose, but after Gloria started her tricks, he stopped dating me. I hated the bitch. I wanted everyone to know she was nothing but a cheap hoor.”
“So you lied,” said Hamish.
She nodded dumbly.
“And to your knowledge, did she ever go upstairs to any of the bedrooms?”
Elsie shook her head.
“No evidence in any of the beds that there had been any malarkey?”
“No, sir. I’m right sorry.”
“I’ll see what I can do, but don’t ever lie to the police again.”
When Hamish reported back to Fiona, she said furiously, “Why haven’t you arrested her?”
“It’s like this,” said Hamish wearily. “The lassie would have a criminal record. I understand why she lied. You see, ma’am, up here, it’s better to sort out these things without hauling people off to prison. That way, they feel safe to tell me things they might not otherwise think of doing.”
“It is a good way of doing things,” said Charlie gently. “You see, the way things usually go, if Macbeth sends over a report, Mr. Blair will get his hands on it and before you know it, the lassie will be dragged in and accused of murder. Mr. Daviot is under such strong pressure from the press that he’ll go along with it.”
“Surely not!”
“It’s happened in other cases,” said Hamish.
“I’ll let it go for now. Now, Anderson called while you were out. The gamekeeper, Harry Mackay, said he called in at the kitchen with a brace of pheasant just before she was murdered. She was twirling round the kitchen, laughing and singing and saying she was going to be rich. But she didn’t say how or why.”
“I wonder if the seer knows anything,” said Hamish.
“Good God!” exclaimed Fiona. “Are you going to consult the spirits?”
“It’s Angus Macdonald. He relies on a lot of local gossip so that it looks as if he knows everything. I’d better take him a present. I’ve a box of shortbread. That’ll do.”
“We’ll all go and see this Angus,” said Fiona. “I’m intrigued.”
“We’d better all go in my Land Rover,” said Hamish. “Otherwise, it’s a steep climb up the brae.”
Angus opened the door as they arrived. “He certainly looks the part,” remarked Fiona.
“Looks daft,” muttered Hamish. For Angus’s latest addition to his wardrobe was a long white gown decorated with silver moons and stars. His grey beard seemed to have grown even longer.
“Sorry to have got ye out o’ bed,” said Hamish maliciously.
Angus ignored him. “Come ben, Miss Herring,” he crooned.
Fiona walked in and Angus slammed the door in Hamish’s face.
“You shouldnae have hurt the auld man’s feelings,” said Charlie.
“I’ll hurt more than that if he goes on like this.” Hamish opened the door and he and Charlie walked in.
“Sit by the fire,” Angus was saying to Fiona. “It is the grand thing to have an experienced police officer in Lochdubh. If that is that cheap shortbread from Patel’s, Macbeth, put it in the kitchen.”
Hamish walked to the kitchen, ducking his head under the low beams. A lit cigarette was burning in an ashtray on the counter. I didn’t know the auld fool smoked, thought Hamish. Although he had given up smoking some time ago, he suddenly felt a sharp longing to pick up that cigarette and take just one puff. He shook his head angrily, stubbed the cigarette out, and returned to the living room.
“So have you heard anything?” Fiona was demanding.