“But there were nasty rumours about Harold when he was married. Said he beat his wife.”
Charlie sat, nursing his glass of whisky and looking into the leaping flames of the fire. At last he said, “I have this chap I went to school with, Lochy Cullen. He was christened Lochinver by his ma who was a fan o’ Walter Scott. That got him picked on in school. I beat off his tormentors because he was a puny wee chap. But I couldnae be there for him all the time. When he got to his teens, he shot up in height and started bodybuilding, and then he began to punch everyone who had tormented him. He works as a bouncer at a posh club in London. Now, here’s an idea. You could pay him to keep an eye on Priscilla. Maybe just for the next fortnight. He might be glad o’ a break from the club. He phones me from time to time. Have you got keys to Priscilla’s flat in London?”
“Yes, me and the wife stay there when we’re in London. Why?”
“Just in case Lochy hears noises of violence and has to burst in.”
“Phone him now!”
“Right. I may get him at the club. You go upstairs. Leave your watch behind. If I come up and hand it to you, you’ll know everything’s been set up. Now, to the money business.”
The colonel came up with a generous sum, left Charlie, and went reluctantly back to the dining room. His wife was sitting alone with Priscilla. “Where’s Harold?” asked the colonel.
“The poor lamb was tired and he’s gone to bed,” said Priscilla.
Lamb, thought the colonel furiously. More like wolf in sheep’s clothing. Priscilla began to talk about hotel business while the colonel only half listened until he heard, with relief, Charlie’s voice saying, “You left your watch.”
“Thanks, Charlie. Thanks a lot!”
Charlie reported to the police station in the morning and Hamish listened in dismay to his news. When he had finished, Hamish said, “I got a call from the inspector. She’s still working on Andrew’s alibi. Probably be back up here tomorrow if she gets a breakthrough. We’d better get up to the hotel and see her while she’s here. I’ll see if Angela will look in on Sonsie and Lugs.”
Angela said she didn’t mind as long as the animals were left in the police station and not in her home, frightening her cats. Hamish and Charlie set out for the hotel. They called on the manager, Mr. Johnson, first of all and explained the problem. He said he would alert the staff to keep an eye on Priscilla. “But right now they’ve gone out for a run,” said the manager.
“Damn! We’d better search for them,” said Hamish. “Any idea where they went?”
“I think Priscilla said something about going to visit Dick and Anka.”
“Right. We’d better get over there.”
In Braikie, they headed up the side stairs to the flat above, knowing that Dick and Anka would be doing business online while staff served in the shop.
They paused outside the door and listened. They could clearly hear Harold saying, “What is a divine creature like you doing living in a dump like this? I could get you a job in London as a model. I also know people in the television and film industry.”
Enough, thought Hamish, and he opened the door. Four faces turned to look at them. Priscilla’s was a frozen mask. Dick looked furious. Harold was plainly leering at Anka, and Anka greeted them with patent relief.
“Come in, Hamish and Charlie. We are so glad to see you.”
“I am afraid we are just leaving,” said Priscilla. “Come along, Harold.”
He gave her a baffled look but followed her out. “Tell you later,” said Hamish. “Got to follow them.”
He hurried down the stairs and peered round into the street. Harold and Priscilla were getting into Harold’s Range Rover. As it started up, Hamish noticed with delight that one of the brake lights wasn’t working.
“His brake light’s out,” he said to Charlie. “Let’s stop them. Tell you what. You go to Braikie garage and tell Jake there’s fifty pounds for him if he finds something else wrong or makes something else wrong.”
Hamish jumped in his Land Rover and with siren wailing and blue light flashing, he set off in pursuit. Harold pulled to the side of the road. Hamish got out and rapped on the driver’s window. When Harold lowered it, Hamish said, “You have a broken brake light and you cannot proceed unless you get it fixed.”
“Do we need to do it now, Hamish?” asked Priscilla. “It’s just a minor thing.”
Hamish ignored her and said to Harold, “There’s the garage a few yards back. Take your vehicle there.”
Muttering about highland peasants, Harold turned his car around and headed for the garage.
Charlie saw him coming and quickly moved out of the garage and went to join Hamish.
“That’ll keep the scunner busy for a while,” said Hamish. “Let’s go to the pub for lunch.”
But when they emerged an hour later and strolled to the garage it was to find that Harold and Priscilla had gone.