Elspeth was furious at being once more taken off her job as presenter to report on the murder. She was always uneasy when she was away from Glasgow, fearing that she might return and find someone had pinched her job.
Priscilla waved to her. Don’t see any rings, thought Elspeth. Wonder if Hamish is still hankering after her. After dinner, her crew headed off to bed, but Elspeth felt restless and decided to go to the bar for a nightcap. As she was crossing the entrance hall, a giant of a policeman in uniform walked across the hall and disappeared behind a screen at the far corner.
Curious, Elspeth walked behind the screen and found herself facing a door. She opened it and walked down the steps. She found herself in a musty unlit basement, stumbled over a trunk? and cursed loudly.
A door opened at the far end and the tall figure of the policeman loomed up against the light. “Who’s there?” he demanded.
“A friend of Hamish Macbeth,” said Elspeth. “I’m Elspeth Grant.”
She walked forward. Charlie stood aside to let her enter his apartment.
“Is this yours?” asked Elspeth, looking around.
“I’m too big for the police station,” said Charlie. “Oh, you’re thon woman from the telly. You’re not to tell anyone about this.”
“I can see the headlines now,” said Elspeth. “Policeman lives in hotel basement. Don’t be daft.” She looked up at him in sudden dismay. “You haven’t replaced Hamish, have you?”
“Come ben. Take a seat by the fire. No, no, I’m Hamish’s constable. I mind now, you used to work up here and you’re a great friend o’ Hamish’s.”
“You’ve made yourself very cosy,” said Elspeth.
“Funny. I don’t break anything here. I’m right clumsy usually. Drove Hamish mad. A dram?”
“Yes, thanks.”
Elspeth relaxed in her chair. There was something soothing about the big, fair-haired policeman with his lilting accent. “You’re from the isles, aren’t you?” she said.
“South Uist.”
“And how do you like Lochdubh?”
“Oh, it’s the grand place.” He handed her a glass of whisky.
“I am surprised the colonel allows you to stay here.”
“Oh, George is a grand fellow. We go fishing together.”
“George! I thought that fussy little snob would never allow anyone to call him anything but Colonel.”
“He is the grand man and I won’t hear a word against him,” said Charlie severely.
“Thanks for the drink,” said Elspeth. “I’ll be off.”
Hamish was just getting ready for bed when he heard a knock at the kitchen door. Lugs gave his welcome bark but Sonsie’s fur was raised.
He opened the door and looked down at Elspeth. It was a damp drizzly evening and her hair had frizzed up, making her look more like the old Elspeth he had once known.
“Come in,” said Hamish. “Want a dram?”
“Already had one with your constable.”
Hamish’s hazel eyes sharpened. He was beginning to learn that there was something about Charlie which attracted women.
“So he’s living in the hotel basement and seems to be dear friends with the colonel,” said Elspeth. “Wonders will never cease. So what about this murder?”
“Off the record?”
“You know me, Hamish.”
“Aye, well, I wouldnae mind going over it.” Hamish reflected that he had been uneasy during dinner. There was an electricity between Fiona and Charlie. He didn’t want Charlie getting hurt and he had been unable to concentrate.
He told her all they had found out. “It’s too like a Hollywood movie,” commented Elspeth when he had finished. “You know, it’s always the one in the wheelchair that no one suspects is able to walk. When are you going back there?”
“I’m to be there at ten in the morning,” said Hamish.
Good, thought Elspeth, I’ll be there before nine.
Aloud, she said, “So Dick Fraser and Anka have become bap celebrities. I might call in on them. Married yet?”
“Dinnae be daft.”
“He might surprise you.”
Before he retired to bed, Hamish remembered he had forgotten to check for messages. There were two angry ones from local papers, claiming that the gamekeeper, Harry Mackay, had fired on them.
Elspeth won’t get very far, thought Hamish.
But Hamish had forgotten about the magic of television. As the television van rolled up the drive, the crew were confronted by Harry, holding a shotgun on them. The van stopped and Elspeth got down.
“Harry Mackay,” she said. “Don’t you remember me?”
Harry lowered his gun and grinned. “Why, if it isnae yourself, Miss Grant. But Mr. Harrison is sore agin the press.”
“Oh, he’ll see us,” said Elspeth. “But before that, would you mind if I interviewed you?”
“Me?”
“You’d look good on film, Harry.”