He was sure that Jessie had been poisoned. He had said nothing about the fairy cave. How could it have been done? Say someone called on her and Jessie had started to talk about the fairy cave. Maybe a present of a bottle of something and why don’t you take some to the fairies? He had not searched the cave. He had backed out quickly so as not to contaminate the crime scene. Would the forensic team have been to her house yet? Would they even know what to look for? He called to his animals and set off full-speed for Jessie’s home.
There was no police tape yet outside. He put on his full forensic gear and then tried the door. It wasn’t locked. He searched the kitchen first. Two cups and saucers had been washed and were lying on the draining board. He made his way quickly to the living room. He knew he had to be quick. As soon as the neighbours got the news, they would be gathering outside. And he didn’t want to be caught by the forensic team. The living room was neat and clean. He was about to turn away when his eye caught something glittering on the floor near the sofa. He bent down and examined it. It was a strand of sparkling ribbon, the kind used to wrap a present.
He hurried out and took off his forensic suit and went to question the neighbours. Had any strangers been seen?
The woman next door said that only a couple of what she described as Bible bashers, a man and a woman, had called the day before. No one else. Their description didn’t match anyone that Hamish had seen at the hunting box.
Whoever it had been, thought Hamish, could have come during the night and left a package on the doorstep. Maybe Jessie had decided to share some treat with her fairies in the cave. Or could it have been suicide? No, he couldn’t believe that. She had looked as if she had died in agony. He diligently knocked at doors up and down the street. Jessie had been well liked, considered daft but harmless, and the neighbours were shocked to learn of her death.
More police arrived and started going from door to door. Police tape was put up in front of Jessie’s house.
Neighbours gathered in the street, talking in whispers.
Hamish returned to the café to be told by a local reporter that the police had left. Guessing they had gone to Harrison’s, he set off. As he was turning into the drive, his iPad clicked. He opened it. There was a message from Sheena. “You ran off before I could catch you. Attached is a photo of the man you’re interested in.” Hamish clicked on the photo and studied it. Then he moved on to park outside the house.
Fiona, Charlie, and Jimmy were standing outside. “Why aren’t you at Kinlochbervie?” demanded Fiona.
“Overmanning,” said Hamish. “You’ve already got the place covered in police. But I’ve got something to show you.” He took out a forensic bag and held it up. Inside the clear material could be seen the little sparkly strip of ribbon. Hamish did not want to say he had found it inside the house so he said he had found it on the front doorstep. “If she’s been poisoned,” he said, “this could have come off some sort of present, maybe a bottle of something. She could have taken it up to her favourite cave, drunk it, and died there. Any idea what the poison might have been?”
“No,” said Fiona wearily. “Andrew Harrison has pulled so many strings that I’ve been ordered by the high-ups to tread carefully. There’s not much we can do until the results of the autopsy come through. We’ll meet here in the morning.”
Jimmy followed Hamish into the police station in Lochdubh, waiting impatiently for whisky while Hamish lit the stove and put out food and water for his pets.
“At last,” he grumbled when Hamish put the bottle of whisky and a glass on the table.
“I’ve something to show you,” said Hamish. He switched on his iPad and showed Jimmy the photograph Sheena had sent him. “Recognise this man?”
“I’ve seen him before,” said Jimmy. “Gie me a moment. Nothing like whisky to lubricate the brain.”
Hamish was sure he had recognised the man immediately and simply wanted an excuse for another drink.
“Aye, I’ve got it now. Thon’s Creepy Willie.”
“And who in the name o’ the wee man is Creepy Willie?”
“He’s a sleazeball o’ a private detective. Divorce cases. Think he deals drugs but haven’t been able to catch him yet.”
Hamish’s mind raced. Could Fiona’s husband be checking up on her? Hardly. He would employ a reputable man from Edinburgh.
Was there really anything going on between Charlie and Fiona?
“I think it may have something to do with our boss. I’d better get up to the castle and warn Charlie.” He seized the whisky bottle and put it back in the cupboard. “No more, Jimmy, or you won’t be fit to drive.”
Fiona and Charlie were relaxing in front of the fire in Charlie’s apartment. Fiona yawned and stretched. “I feel too tired to go back to Strathbane.”
“I can ask the manager to find you a room here,” said Charlie.
She smiled at him and said softly, “You have a bed here, Charlie.”
Charlie blushed to the roots of his hair. “It is the double bed.”
“So? Oh, who the hell is this?”
They could hear someone clattering down the stairs. Charlie jumped to his feet and stood barring the doorway.
“It’s yourself, Hamish,” he said with relief. “Miss Herring and I were just having a final discussion.”