Hamish made his way to where the cliffs rose up against the pale-blue sky. Seagulls wheeled and dived. All the while, his mind worked busily. She surely wouldn’t have left wearing her nurse’s uniform. At the foot of the cliffs were jagged needle rocks like pointing fingers. As he approached, two things struck him. That old familiar smell of death and the buzzing of flies.
With a beating heart, he picked his way among the rocks. Between two of the pointing rocks lay the shattered body of Gloria Dainty under a heaving canopy of black flies.
After Charlie had joined him, they put police tape round the rocks. “I think she was thrown over,” said Hamish. “Go up to the top of the cliffs and cordon off an area there as well. I’ve phoned it in. You’re a bit white, Charlie. You’ve got the boys’ addresses, haven’t you?”
“Aye, they’re in Kinlochbervie.”
“Get ower there and take a statement, and then knock on some doors and see if anyone saw or heard anything. Take the Land Rover. When you’ve finished, let Sonsie and Lugs out for a run and then come back here.”
Hamish waited, sitting on a flat rock, hoping that the bane of his life Detective Chief Inspector Blair would decide not to come. He wanted to go back to the body, brush the flies away, and find out if she had been dead before she was thrown over. But he knew he would be accused of contaminating the crime scene. Flies, not yet maggots. If she had been killed elsewhere and then dumped, that would account for the flies. Had the seagulls been at the body? They ate carrion, that he knew.
It was an hour before he heard the sound of the whole contingent from Strathbane arriving outside the café and stood up. With relief, he saw it was his friend Detective Jimmy Anderson heading the group. His foxy face looked as hung over as usual.
“What have we got, Hamish?” he asked.
“A private nurse to old Mr. Harrison. I had a date wi’ her on the Sunday. She didnae show and I thought I had been stood up. Mr. Harrison said she had gone for a walk. The Latvian who works for him said her belongings were gone. I had finished investigating a false alarm in Braikie and came up here because it’s on my beat. Two laddies, playing on the shore, had a nurse’s cap and I recognised it as being the type that Gloria had worn. I searched and found her behind those rocks. I think she was thrown over. Lots of flies. But she disappeared four days ago.”
“Here’s the pathologist, Hamish. Let’s go to thon café and leave him to work.”
Jimmy found to his delight that the café sold liquor and bought a half bottle of whisky and poured a slug into his coffee.
“So where’s Blair?” asked Hamish.
“Sulking. He wanted a transfer to Glasgow, but they didnae want him.”
“But he would be daft to get away from the protection of Superintendent Daviot!”
“Aye. But he doesnae know that. Thinks he’s the best detective since Sherlock Holmes.”
“Who was fictional,” said Hamish.
“Well, our Blair is a legend in his own lunchtime. It only takes a few drams to make him think he is Sherlock Holmes. So when was your date wi’ the nurse?”
“Sunday. Pretty lassie. It’s a damn shame. Mind you, I heard our Gloria liked to go to the Tommel Castle Hotel on her day off and pick up men in the bar.”
“Would old Harrison have killed her?”
“He’s confined to a wheelchair.”
“What about this Latvian?”
“Don’t know much about him. He and his wife work for Harrison. The body’s covered in flies. Doesn’t it take about three days afore they turn into maggots?”
“Something like that.”
“Or maybe she was killed elsewhere and then the dead body thrown over. Oh, here’s Charlie. Found anything?”
“Nothing,” said Charlie.
“I’m waiting for the pathologist’s report,” said Hamish, “and then we’ll maybe look at the top of the cliffs, but it’s no use looking up there if it turns out she wasn’t thrown over.”
Charlie pulled up a chair and sat down. The incoming waves, green near the shore and aquamarine further out, curled and splashed on the beach while restless seagulls swooped and dived.
At last, Hamish could see the pathologist emerging from the rocks. He was a man new to Hamish, tall and shambling with a long grey beard. He joined them at the table as an ambulance lurched down onto the beach.
“I’ll know better when I get a full autopsy,” he said. “I would estimate she’s been dead about four days, but possibly dumped over the cliff maybe yesterday. The flies are pretty fresh. She’s been strangled but she’s got a lot of broken bones showing that she was tossed from the cliffs.”
“Come on, Charlie,” said Hamish. “We’d best get up there.”
“I’ll get over to Harrison’s,” said Jimmy. “Oh, oh! Here comes trouble.”
Police Inspector Fiona Herring came striding up to them. The pathologist made his escape. “This is a cosy tea party,” she said.
“What are you doing here?” demanded Jimmy.
“I have been drafted in to gee up what I am told is a slack lot,” she said. “Fill me in.”
Jimmy told her what he knew. Hamish described his failed date.