Hamish MacBeth 03 (1988) - Death of an Outsider by M.C. Beaton

Author:M.C. Beaton
Format: epub, mobi

SIX

Jenny kissed me when we met,

Jumping from the chair she sat in,

Time, you thief, who love to get

Sweets into your list, put that in

Say I’m weary, say I’m sad,

Say that health and wealth have missed me,

Say I’m growing old, but add,

Jenny kissed me.

—James Henry Leigh Hunt

Hamish awoke at dawn the next morning, dazed, bewildered, and happy. He would have liked to cuddle up to Jenny and spend a lazy morning in bed, but he did not want her to become the butt of Blair’s coarse remarks, and so he dressed quickly, picking up items of clothing from the stairs, and finally rescuing his trousers from under Towser.

He made his way quietly over to the police station and was just emerging innocently from his own bedroom when Blair came looking for him.

“Where was ye last night?” howled Blair. “Getting your leg over that artist bint?”

“I wass out looking for clues,” said Hamish. “Miss Lovelace is a highly respectable lady. I am furthermore quite prepared to put my job on the line if you make any more filthy remarks about her by sinking ma fist right into your mouth.”

Blair backed before the fury in Hamish’s eyes. “Cannae ye take a joke?” he said. “Me and the others are off to stay at the Anstey Hotel doon the road. The bigwigs are comin’ up from Inverness and Edinburgh to see what we can do about keeping thae lobsters quiet. In the meantime, you take those false teeth down to Mrs. Mainwaring and let’s hear what she says.”

Blair walked into the lounge as he talked. Hamish looked around the room in dismay. The ashtrays were overflowing, and there were greasy fish-and-chip papers on the coffee-table.

“And what am I supposed to do about this mess?” asked Hamish.

“Oh, get a wumman in tae clean the place and put the bill through your expenses as something else.”

Furious as he was at the state of the place, Hamish was only too glad to get rid of Blair and his detectives. It meant he would have the phone to himself again.

He got into the police Land Rover and drove off before Blair could commandeer it. It would be just like Blair to expect him to walk the miles to Mrs. Mainwaring’s.

And before he even reached Mrs. Mainwaring, he had to quieten his conscience by looking for Sandy Carmichael. The moors were covered with searching policemen, but there might be something he, Hamish Macbeth, could find that they could not. He could not in his heart believe Sandy responsible for the murder. He called at Sandy’s cottage after scouring the highways and byways, only to retreat quickly as Blair’s furious face appeared at the window.

On his way to Mrs. Mainwaring, Hamish dropped in to see Diarmuid Sinclair. He nearly didn’t recognize him, for Diarmuid had shaved off his long beard. “Why the new image?” asked Hamish. “Doing it for your public?”

“Aye, did you see me on the television?” said Diarmuid. “Grand, that was. John took a video o’ it and showed it to me and I thought I looked that old.

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