Blood at the Bookies

Thirty-Eight

“Hamish, call the police,” said Ewan Urquhart. “These two women are mad and dangerous.”

“They’re certainly dangerous,” his son agreed, “but I don’t think the police are the right people to deal with them.”

“I don’t understand. I’ve hardly understood anything that’s happened for the last half-hour.”

“Don’t worry about it, Dad. I’m in control of the situation.” And, for the first time in Jude’s dealings with him, Hamish Urquhart did seem to be in control. There was now a dignity about him which she had not seen before. She was aware of the power in his stocky body and the cold menace in his eyes.

Both women made as if to stand up, but were stilled by a wave of the knife.

“I’ll sort this out, Dad,” said Hamish. “Just as I sorted out your other problems.”

“What other problems?”

“I know how you feel about Soph, Dad. I know how you’d feel about her getting into the wrong company. Particularly the wrong male company. So I sorted things out for you.”

“What do you mean, Hamish? I don’t know what you’ve been doing.”

“No, I know you don’t.” There was a quiet smile of pride on the young man’s face. “You didn’t need to know. I did things the way you’ve always said they should be done. The British way. No fuss. No showing off. Not standing up and saying ‘Aren’t I wonderful?’ But that quiet British pride of doing the right thing without crowing about it.”

It was chilling to hear the young man echoing his father’s words. Ewan Urquhart cleared his throat uneasily and said, “What do you mean by doing the right thing, Hamish?”

“Getting rid of the wrong sort of people. People who threaten us Urquharts. I knew what you’d think about Soph going around with a foreigner, so I…dealt with the problem. Never wanted you to know anything about it, but these two busybodies have told you, so you may as well have the details. Soph told me about this chap she was seeing, this Pole, and I knew you’d disapprove. So I thought, ‘No need to get the old man worried about this. Time for me to show a bit of Urquhart initiative and sort the problem out for him.’

“So I got his address from Soph and went round to see him. He wasn’t in, but the door to his room was open. Inside I found…He had written songs about her, songs about Soph. There were tapes, CDs, a guitar. I took them all. I didn’t want any connection ever to be made between my sister and…that foreigner!”

“Sophia implied that she’d taken the guitar and things,” said Carole.

“Did she? No, I got them, then I gave them to her to dispose of as she thought fit.”

“So your sister knew what you had done?” asked Jude. “She knew it was you who stabbed Tadek?”

Hamish Urquhart smiled a patronizing smile. “I didn’t tell her. There was no need for her to be involved in anything distasteful. I’ve always tried to protect Sophia from the nasty things in life.”

Just as your father has, thought Jude. She looked across at Ewan Urquhart, whose face registered growing shock and disbelief as Hamish continued to describe his actions.

“Anyway I had just started driving back here, when I saw the Pole walking back to his room. I stopped the car, told him that I was Sophia’s brother and that she was back at the office and wanted to see him. He was over the moon about that and got into the car without a hint of suspicion. So I drove him back here. Knew you’d be off for a couple of hours doing a valuation, Dad, knew it was unlikely there’d be much trade on a Thursday afternoon.

“Anyway, soon as we get back here, his first question is: where’s Sophia? I tell him she must have just slipped out for a minute. Said she was probably shopping along the parade.”

Finally Carole and Jude had the explanation for Tadek’s appearance in the betting shop on the afternoon of his death. He had been looking for Sophia. His last moments of life had been spent looking for the woman he loved. Though whether they would ever be able to pass the information on to anyone else looked, at that moment, unlikely.

Hamish smiled in self-congratulation. “I thought that was rather clever. Thinking she was nearby and would be back in a minute, he relaxed. I asked him to take his coat off, and then revealed the real purpose of his visit. I told the sneaky bastard we took a pretty dim view of his interest in Soph and…” He made an eloquent gesture with his knife.

Ewan Urquhart was having difficulty in believing what he was hearing. “You stabbed him?”

“Yes. In the chest.” Hamish grinned with self-satisfaction. “Worked out rather well, really. I hadn’t decided what I was going to do with the body, but then he put his coat on and went out. Luck was on my side, of course – it always is for people who dare to be bold. The weather suddenly turned, and that hailstorm meant nobody saw him leaving the office. Then he went to the betting shop and…” He spread his hands wide. They all knew what had happened next. “I think I can be said to have used the Urquhart initiative.”

“And Sophia’s lecturer?” asked Ewan Urquhart, his eyes wide with terror.

“Yes. Andy Constant,” said Hamish in a self-congratulatory tone. “Soph had mentioned him to me, but I didn’t know until recently that he’d been coming on to her.” He grinned triumphantly at Jude. “In fact I had my suspicions confirmed when I was doing the valuation of your cottage. There was some writing in a notebook on your kitchen table which linked Andy Constant’s name to Soph’s.

“Well, I knew what your views would be about that, Dad – the idea of someone nearly your own age messing around with your daughter. And I was right, because I just heard you telling these ladies what you thought about that. So again I thought, no need to bother you about it. I took things into my own hands. Soph had told me a bit about Andy Constant’s habits, and I worked out that the Drama Studio would be the best place to get him. I borrowed Soph’s Barbour because I thought it’d make me look more like one of the students, you know, pass unnoticed on the campus. And I told Soph, if anyone asked, she should say I was at home with her yesterday evening. Oh, I thought the whole thing through. And I would have killed the lecturer too, if I hadn’t been disturbed. By you, I gather,” he said, turning with sudden vindictiveness towards Jude.

She said nothing. The knife was dangerously close, and Hamish Urquhart’s eyes showed that he was way beyond responding to logical argument.

“So what are you going to do now?” asked his father, very quietly.

Hamish gestured with the knife. “Deal with these two,” he said airily. “I’ll put their bodies in the van and dispose of them after dark.”

“Where?”

“I don’t need to bother you with the details, Dad. Trust me, it’s all in hand.” He still sounded like a parody of Ewan Urquhart. Hamish was relishing the reversal. For once, he was patronizing his father, he was the one making the decisions. “We need never talk about it again. And don’t you worry. If I find any more unsuitable men sniffing round Soph, trust me to deal with them.”

“Are you telling me, Hamish, that you killed Tadeusz Jankowski and nearly killed Andy Constant because you didn’t think they were suitable men to mix with your sister?”

“Yes, Dad. Of course. Come on, you’re not usually so slow on the uptake.” The boy guffawed. “Usually I’m the one in that role.”

“But, Hamish, don’t you realize, killing someone because they’re having a relationship you disapprove of, well…that’s no different from an ‘honour killing’, the kind of thing Asian immigrants get involved in?”

“Nonsense. Totally different. I’m just upholding the honour of the Urquharts, that’s all.” He looked around the room, then turned to his father and said compassionately, “Look, I’ll sort this out, Dad. No need for you to be involved. Why don’t you nip out to Polly’s for a coffee and a teacake? Come back in half an hour and the whole thing’ll be sorted.”

He spoke so airily that Carole and Jude had to remind themselves that what he was proposing to ‘sort’ was their deaths. To their dismay, Ewan Urquhart rose, zombie-like, from behind his desk and said, “Yes, Hamish. Maybe that’s a good idea.”

When his father reached the door, the son stopped him with an arm on his sleeve. “One thing you haven’t said, Dad…”

“What?”

“You haven’t said you’re proud of me for what I’ve done.” The appeal in the young man’s face was naked and pathetic.

“No, I haven’t,” said his father dully.

“Well, please. Say you’re proud of me.”

The two generations looked at each other. In Hamish Urquhart’s eyes was abject pleading, asking his father at last to give him a ration of praise. The expression in Ewan Urquhart’s eyes was harder to read.

The older man moved very quickly. With his left hand he snatched the knife from his son’s grasp. His right, bunched in a fist, crashed up into the young man’s chin.

Hamish Urquhart went down like a dead weight, thumping the back of his head on a shelf as he fell. He lay immobile. As ever, his father had proved stronger than he was.

Carole and Jude breathed out, letting the accumulated tension twitch out of their bodies.