“She seems to have a lot of power. Probably won’t come to anything. I’m off. I’ll wake you later. It’s a good thing old Harrison didn’t promise to leave us something in his will or we’d be dragged in for questioning as well.”
“They won’t get far,” said Hamish. “Juris won’t tell Blair a thing once he starts his usual shouting and bullying.”
Charlie walked the animals, glad in a way to be off the case and away from Fiona. The little poodle was a big hit with the locals. Even the Currie sisters bent down to pet her. He then drove them up to the hotel, had a cosy chat with the colonel, and promised to go fishing with him the next day.
When he returned to the station, he saw with a sinking heart that Fiona was sitting in her car outside. She got out and waited while he parked and let the dogs out.
“I’ve been suspended,” she said abruptly.
“Why, ma’am?”
“Some malicious bastard put in a report that instead of using highly trained detectives, I was covering the case with two highland coppers. I mistakenly relied on reports of Macbeth’s successes.”
“Ma’am, he was the one who told you that I did not think the murderer was Malky.”
She looked at him sullenly, got into her car, and her driver drove off.
“Will Daviot call us in for an explanation?” asked Charlie when he had told Hamish what had happened.
“He can’t,” said Hamish. “He knows damn well we were following orders and that he went along with it. I’m sick o’ the whole business. I need to think. I’ll do some chores.”
“I’ll help you,” said Charlie.
Hamish was well aware that Charlie was capable of breaking more things around the station. “No, you take the day off,” he said. “I’ll phone you if I think of anything.”
Hamish went indoors, made himself a cup of coffee, and then went into the office to go through his notes on the computer. Lugs came in and put a paw on his knee and stared up at him. “She isnae coming back,” said Hamish sadly. “You’ll just need to make do wi’ that piece of fluff called a poodle.”
After a few minutes, Hamish heard the large flap on the kitchen door bang. He rose and went through to the kitchen to get a piece of shortbread. He looked out of the kitchen window. Lugs and the poodle were chasing each other round the back field in the sunshine.
I wish I could get ower the loss of Sonsie that easy, thought Hamish.
He went back to the office, put his hands behind his head, and stared into space, letting all the scenes from the investigation run through his head. Forget about old Harrison’s will, he thought. I wonder if his life was insured. I wonder if they needed money. But Andrew must have been making a fair whack as a London barrister. But maybe Greta was sickened by the sex games. Still, if she wanted rid of her husband, surely the time to do it would have been at the height of the murder investigations.
How had Andrew been murdered and where? He phoned Jimmy on his mobile.
“I’ll lose my job if they know I’m talking to you,” whispered Jimmy.
“How was Andrew murdered and where?” asked Hamish.
“Savage blow to the head out in the grounds. Look, get the whisky ready and I’ll drop in on you later.”
After he had rung off, Hamish began to think about drugs. Malky had been a good-looking young man to judge from the photos of him published in the newspapers. He had been handsome enough to attract Gloria and help her get the job with Harrison. Why hadn’t that nursing agency noticed if any of their drugs were missing? They must keep some on the premises. It didn’t seem likely. And surely nurses couldn’t write out prescriptions.
He had a sudden urge to see if there was a chemist near the nursing agency. He phoned Angela and begged her to look after the dogs.
“I heard Sonsie has gone and you’ve got a poodle,” said Angela. “I’ll look in at the station. What’s the poodle called?”
“You think o’ something,” said Hamish. “Thanks, Angela.”
Hamish called first at the hotel and asked Charlie if he could borrow his car, not wanting to alert Strathbane that he was on their patch.
He parked near the clinic and looked around. There was a small chemist’s a few yards away. Hamish went in and asked the girl behind the counter if he could speak to the pharmacist.
The pharmacist introduced himself as George Stoddart. He was a tall, thin man with a face as white as his coat and a shock of white hair. He looked as if he had been bleached all over.
Hamish asked if he could remember a nurse called Gloria Dainty coming in with prescriptions. “The one that was murdered? Yes, I remember her. She used to collect medicine for patients.”
“Is it possible you could find out from your records what the prescriptions were for and which doctor signed them?”
“Wait a minute. It shouldn’t take long.”
He went into the back where a computer lay on a desk in front of shelves of medicines. Hamish waited impatiently. It was a quiet residential area. Customers came and went. Hamish noticed the computer had a huge back on it instead of a flat screen. Probably take an age even to warm up, he thought.