Death of a Witch

∨ Death of a Witch ∧

8

Thou tyrant, tyrant Jealousy, Thou tyrant of the mind!

– John Dryden

Hamish first went to the police station and got Ruby Connachie’s address from the computer.

Jimmy stepped out in front of the mobile police unit and held up a hand to stop Hamish as he was driving off.

“Where are you going?” he demanded.

“Here, there, and anywhere,” said Hamish, waving a vague hand. “I have to protect Elspeth here and so I’m taking her right out of the village for the day.”

“Okay, off you go, but remember the lassie’s a journalist and don’t be talking off the record.”

“As if I would,” said Hamish piously.

Much as he desperately wanted to solve the murders, Hamish had a guilty feeling of holiday as he drove off. It was like old times to be with Elspeth again. What did she think of him these days? Should he marry her? It would be grand to be married and maybe have a couple of children.

“You’ve got a silly smile on your face,” said Elspeth. “What are you thinking about?”

“The scenery,” lied Hamish. “It’s a grand day.”

“It is indeed,” said Elspeth as they sped up over the heathery hills.

That remark about his silly smile had irked Hamish. The dream of marriage to Elspeth disappeared and he began to wonder if Ruby could actually give them any leads.

♦

Known to the Romans as Bertha from the Celtic Aber The, meaning ‘the mouth of the River Tay,’ Perth has been a Royal Burgh since the thirteenth century and was a royal residence through the middle ages. With its parks and Georgian houses, it is still one of the fairest of Scotland’s cities.

But like all towns and cities in Scotland, it had its housing estates, and it was in one of these that Ruby Connachie lived.

“She must be pretty old by now,” said Elspeth.

“From the reports, I gather she’s eighty-six and got all her marbles – well, those that haven’t been cracked by jealousy.”

“So she was jealous of Catriona?”

“Seems that way. She says Burrell doted on the girl for all he was strict. Here we are. I don’t suppose any of the local police will be visiting her again, so with luck Jimmy will never find out where we have been.”

Ruby lived in a block of ‘sheltered’ housing for the elderly on the estate. Her flat was on the first floor.

Hamish rang the doorbell. There was a long silence.

“I hope the woman’s alive,” whispered Hamish.

“I sense someone in there,” said Elspeth.

After what seemed an age there was a sound of shuffling feet on the other side of the door. Then it creaked open on a chain.

A small, wrinkled face peered up at Hamish. “Who are you?”

Hamish introduced himself, but not Elspeth, in the hope that she would think Elspeth was a plainclothes policewoman. The door shut, and then came the sound of elderly fingers struggling to undo the chain. The door swung open again, revealing Ruby to be a small, old woman leaning on a Zimmer frame. Her figure was stooped and her grey hair, thin and sparse, showed patches of pink scalp.

The door opened directly into a small living room. It was simply furnished with two easy chairs, two hard-backed chairs, a small television set, and two occasional tables, one of which held a framed photograph of a younger Ruby on the arm of a heavyset man.

Hamish picked it up. “Is this Mr. Burrell?”

“Yes, that’s him. We would have been married if that fiend hadn’t murdered him. He put it off too long. ‘As soon as Catriona goes to university, we’ll get married,’ he’d say.”

“What was Catriona like?”

“Sleekit. That’s what she was. Sleekit. You would think butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. Yes, Daddy. No, Daddy. When she said she was at the library, studying, I told him I saw her hanging out in the High Street with a group of boys. When he challenged her, she burst into tears and said, “I was only talking to a group of school friends.” And he believed her! I knew if I told any more tales on her, the wedding would be off.”

“Do you think anyone from the time she lived in Perth would want to kill her?”

Ruby gave an asthmatic chuckle. “Apart from me? I mind there was this young fellow, Wayne Abercrombie. I was visiting my Horace…”

“Horace being Mr. Burrell?” asked Hamish.

“Yes. This lad Wayne came hammering at the door demanding to speak to Catriona. Horace said she was out. Wayne said he had to see her to find out whether she meant to go through with the abortion. I thought poor Horace was going to drop dead with a heart attack. He told him to get lost or he’d call the police and he sent me home and waited for Catriona. I phoned him the next day and he wouldn’t speak about it except to say that it was all lies and he didn’t want to hear about it again.

Oh, I wanted proof. I wanted something against her to open his eyes to what she was really like. I went in search of Wayne. He was older than Catriona and working at a garage out on the Inverness Road. Well, he tried to deny even having been at the house! Then he said it had all been a joke.”

“Where is he now?”

“He married a local lass a whiles back. I remember seeing the wedding in the local paper. He was a motor mechanic so maybe he’s in the same job. I always wonder if he was the one that stole the money.”

“What money?” asked Elspeth.

“It was the night of the day that Wayne had come to the house. Someone broke in during the night and stole five hundred pounds that Horace had in his desk. He kept it to pay workmen off the books. I know it sounds bad that a churchman should pay workers off the books but a lot of them, because of the VAT and the health and safety regulations, won’t work unless it’s for cash. The police were called. The lock on the front door had been jemmied open. Horace couldn’t understand why he didn’t wake because he was aye a light sleeper. You know what I think? I think that bitch from hell gave him some sort of sleeping pill and stole the money herself.”

“Did you tell the police any of this?” asked Hamish. “I don’t remember anything in the report.”

“No, it was a young female detective wi’ a snippy way about her. I don’t think she wanted to bother listening to me.”

♦

After they had left her, Hamish said they should start asking at all the garages they could find and see if they could trace Wayne Abercrombie.

They were lucky the first time. He was still working at the garage out on the Inverness Road.

He was a tall man with a thick thatch of brown hair and a pleasant tanned face. But on hearing that they wanted to ask him about Catriona, he scowled and said it was all in the past and he had to get on with his work. Only Hamish’s threat to take him down to the police station made him sigh and say, “Let’s get out of here. I’ll tell them I’m taking a break and it’s about a stolen car.”

He came back shortly and stripped off his oily overalls. “Let’s go over to the pub,” he said.

Over a pint of beer, he reluctantly began his story. “Catriona was a wild one. I swear to God she seduced me. I mean, she was still a schoolgirl and her father a minister, but she got me fair worked up. Then she told me she was pregnant and I would have to marry her. I didn’t want to. There was something about her that frightened me. But I thought I’d better do the decent thing and call on her and see her father as well because she said if I didn’t marry her she would get an abortion. He wouldn’t believe me and said he’d call the police.

The next day, Catriona turns up here and hands me five hundred pounds and tells me to keep my mouth shut and that never to tell anyone we had had sex. I asked about the baby. She sneered and said there wasn’t any baby. She just wanted to get married and get out of that house.”

“When did you last see her?” asked Hamish.

He hung his head.

“Out with it?” said Hamish sharply.

“A chap came in for repairs, a tourist, and we got to talking. He was an Australian. He said the villages were fascinating and one even had a resident witch. Her name was Catriona Beldame and he had a photo of her. I suddenly wanted to see her. I wanted to know if perhaps she really had been pregnant and had our child. So I went up there.”

“When?” demanded Hamish sharply.

“It must have been the week afore she was murdered. She was very bitter.”

“In what way?”

“She blamed everyone, starting with her father. Then she blamed me for seducing a schoolgirl. I pointed out she had seduced me and that’s when she got furious and started screaming at me to get out. That’s all. I swear I had nothing to do with her murder.”

Hamish took him through the other three murders but he had cast-iron alibis for all of them.

“Will this need to come out?” he asked. “I don’t want the wife to know.”

“I’ll try to keep it quiet,” said Hamish.

♦

“So what do you think of what we’ve got so far?” asked Elspeth over lunch.

“Not much,” said Hamish gloomily. “I had great hopes of Wayne.”

“Might be him after all.”

“I’m sure not. I don’t want to alert Jimmy to the fact that I’m in Perth where he told me not to go.”

“That Nicoise salad of yours is going to wilt if you don’t eat it, Hamish.”

“I keep thinking I ought to eat more healthy food and yet when I get it, my appetite goes away.”

“I can put you on my expenses. Send it back and order a steak.”

“It’s a waste.”

“I’m only having salad, so I can eat two.” Elspeth called over the waiter and ordered Hamish a T-bone steak and chips.

“If only Catriona had been a nice person like Ina Braid. So many people must have wanted to murder her,” mourned Hamish.

“Now, there’s a thing. What about Ina Braid? Surely the only reason she was murdered was because she knew something. She must have said something to her husband. Let’s go back and see him.”

“I’ve just remembered,” said Hamish. “Ina’s funeral is this afternoon. I’ll ask for a doggy bag and take the steak with me. We’ve got to be there.”

“It’s only on the TV that murderers turn up at funerals, Hamish.”

“I’d still like to be there.”

♦

When they arrived, the church service was over and everyone was at the graveside. The whole village had turned out.

“Are you coming to the village hall afterwards?” asked Angela, appearing beside them. “The women decided that Fergus couldn’t cope with the entertaining and so they’re organising the funeral baked meats for him.”

“We’ll take a look in. I’d better contribute some whisky if Patel has any left. How’s Fergus coping?”

“He’s pretty shattered. It all seems to have finally hit him hard.”

When the graveside ceremony was over, Elspeth and Hamish bought a bottle of whisky and followed the black-clad figures to the hall. At other funerals, people might now turn up in colours, but Lochdubh kept to the tradition of funereal black.

At the hall, Tilly Framont came up to Hamish, her eyes wet with tears. “I’ve lost my best friend,” she said.

“Did Ina not tell you something about the murder of Catriona?” asked Hamish.

“No, all she said was ‘good riddance.’ And she wasn’t a secretive woman.”

Tilly moved away.

Nessie Currie then approached them. Jessie was over at the buffet, loading up a plate with sandwiches.

She glared at Elspeth. “Thon was a really stupid set of horoscopes,” she said.

Was it Hamish’s imagination, or was there not a sudden silence all around? People were still talking but he had an uneasy feeling that someone close by had been shocked by what Nessie had said.

“Sorry about that,” said Elspeth, “but Angus was off sick and I did the best I could.”

“You should be ashamed of yourself, meddling with people’s star signs. I’m a Scorpio.”

“You are that,” said Hamish and led Elspeth off to the buffet.

“How long is this guard of yours to go on?” asked Elspeth.

“I’ll try to look after you for as long as possible, but for my sake and your own, try to get off to Glasgow soon.”

A splash of colour appeared in the doorway of the hall. “Oh, look, it’s your girlfriend,” said Elspeth. “I’m off to circulate. I’ll have to report on this. I see my photographer’s got a glass in his hand. I’d better find out whether he got some decent pictures before he gets too drunk.”

Lesley, wearing a cherry-red coat, joined Hamish. “What are you doing here?” asked Hamish.

“I came to see you. I thought you might like to know the latest developments.”

“There are a couple of empty chairs over in the corner,” said Hamish. “Let’s go over there.”

“I went back over the mobile home myself,” said Lesley, “and I found one thread – a dark blue thread, which might have come off a tweed coat or jacket. It was a lucky find because whoever murdered Fiona vacuumed up afterwards and took away the vacuum bag. I thought you might want to look around for someone with a jacket or coat like that.”

“Thanks. That’s a good tip,” said Hamish, thinking Lesley looked pretty with her large eyes and red-gold hair.

“I couldn’t find you today,” said Lesley. “Where were you?”

“I’ve been babysitting my reporter friend. She wrote the horoscope programme in the local paper implying she knew the identity of the murderer.”

“That’s odd.”

“What is?”

“Getting you to babysit. That should be a job for a policewoman.”

“Elspeth has helped out in cases in the past. I think Jimmy hoped she would come up with something. Oh, here’s the lord and master.”

Blair pushed his way through the throng. “I’ve just learned you’ve been wasting your time squiring around your girlfriend. I gave Anderson a rocket. These journalists are hard-boiled and don’t need protection. Get up to Braikie and start asking folks all over again. Someone must ha’ seen something.”

“I’ll tell her,” said Hamish.

Blair saw the trays of whisky being carried around, and his eyes gleamed. “No, laddie, I’ll tell her. Get off with you.”

Lesley walked out with him. “Maybe you’ll be free for dinner tonight?” said Hamish. “I owe you one.”

“I would like that.”

“The Italian place at eight?”

“Fine.”

♦

Hamish felt the rest of the day was a waste of time. No one in Braikie had seen anything. Even the ones who said they had, the ones who had made up colourful stories, had nothing now to say.

When he got to the restaurant that evening, Lesley was the only customer. From the village hall came the sound of the accordion and fiddle. The wake would go on all night as usual, he guessed.

Lesley was wearing a low-cut blue dress revealing a deep cleavage. Hamish felt the first stirrings of desire.

Elspeth had been cool and business-like and had put out no vibes at all. Her very style of dress seemed to say keep off

Lesley found Hamish more attractive than ever. The fact that here was a man who didn’t seem to want to drag her off to bed had piqued her curiosity about him, and his friendship with Elspeth had roused her competitive instincts.

They talked over the murder cases and drank quite a lot of wine. Hamish, just before the coffee was served, reached across the table and took her hand.

“Lesley,” he began, when a familiar voice said, “Gosh I’m beat. Am I in time for coffee?”

Elspeth pulled up a chair and sat down. Hamish drew back his hand as if he had been scalded.

“Find out anything?” he asked.

“Nothing. But I’ve arranged I should call on Fergus tomorrow.”

“You shouldnae have done that without checking with me first.”

Elspeth looked from Hamish to Lesley. “Dear me, it seems as if I am not welcome here.”

“Who’s not welcome?” said a cool, amused voice.

Hamish stumbled to his feet, his face flaming. “Priscilla! When did you arrive?”

“Today. May I join you? Hullo, Elspeth. Who’s this?”

Hamish introduced Priscilla to Lesley, aware the whole time of the malicious amusement in Elspeth’s silver eyes.

Lesley’s heart sank. Who on earth was this classy vision, impeccably dressed, serene and beautiful? Her face was perfect, as was the smooth bell of her blonde hair. Lesley had drunk a lot so that she would have the excuse of asking Hamish for a bed for the night. It was still worth a try.

“I’m afraid I’m not in a fit condition to drive this evening,” she said.

“Don’t worry about it,” said Priscilla. “I’ll put you up at the hotel as my guest.”

All Lesley could do was to say dismally, “Very kind of you.”

Priscilla wanted to know all about the murders.

Lesley felt forgotten as Hamish described all the murders and Priscilla listened intently.

“Look,” she interrupted at last, “I really think I’m fit to drive home.”

“How rude of me to ignore you like this,” said Priscilla. “Hamish, I’ll catch up with you tomorrow.”

When they had gone Elspeth asked, “Feeling smug?”

“No. Why?”

“Our forensic expert is after you.”

Hamish looked uncomfortable. “I think maybe she’s just keen on her job. Look, I’ll come with you to see Fergus. Has anyone come forward to claim Catriona’s body for burial?”

“Not that I’ve heard. I believe Mrs. Wellington was trying to get the villagers to raise money for her funeral but the general opinion is that a stake through the heart is all that’s needed. But I suppose the responsibility will fall on the husband.”

“I gather Fergus is still off work?”

“He’s thinking of going back soon.”

“I forgot to ask Jimmy whether Ina was insured.”

“We’ll ask tomorrow.” Hamish sighed. “I’d better escort you to the hotel. Remember to lock your door and don’t answer without checking downstairs first.”

♦

Fergus answered the door to them the following morning. He looked a wreck. His eyes were bloodshot and his shoulders stooped. “Come ben,” he said.

What had happened to Ina’s impeccable housekeeping? Empty beer cans lay on the floor along with the remains of TV dinners. The furniture was covered in a thin layer of dust.

“You’re not looking very well,” commented Hamish.

“Ina looked after me real well. I can’t cook. I hate shopping. Och, man, I wish she was back.” Fergus began to cry.

“Wheesht, now,” said Hamish. “You’ll just need to get used to the fact that she’s gone.”

“I’ll make a cup of tea,” said Elspeth, and she disappeared into the kitchen.

“Are you all right financially?” asked Hamish.

“Oh, aye.” Fergus gave a great gulping sob and wiped his nose on his sleeve. “Her life was insured.”

“How much?”

“Seventy-five thousand pounds. Thon creature Blair was trying to make me admit I murdered her for the money but he can’t prove otherwise.”

“Maybe you should take a holiday,” said Elspeth. “Get right away.”

“I can’t. Hamish, you’ve just got to find out who killed my Ina.”

“Fergus, I think she knew something about the killer,” said Hamish. “Didn’t she even give you a hint about who it might be?”

“No, but we didnae talk all that much come to think of it. I watched the telly of an evening and herself would knit or go out to one of those women’s meetings at the kirk.”

“I want you to keep thinking about it all the same,” said Hamish earnestly. “Anything at all she might have said.”

♦

“Now what?” asked Elspeth when they were outside. The day was still and misty, and little pearls of moisture glinted in her frizzy hair.

“I think I’ll get back ower to Bonar Bridge. Maybe I might pick up something there.”

“Want me to come with you?”

“No, just be careful.”

♦

Hamish wanted rid of her because he wanted to see Priscilla. He wondered if the old longing for her would ever go away.

He returned to the police station to collect his dog and cat, making sure first that no members of the press were lurking about, and then drove to the hotel.

The Tommel Castle Hotel had once been the home of the Halburton-Smythes. It was one of those mock Gothic castles that had sprung up in the Highlands in Victoria’s reign when landowners wanted to copy Balmoral. Colonel Halburton-Smythe had fallen on hard times, and it was Hamish who had suggested he turn his home into a hotel. The establishment had flourished, and the colonel was fond of bragging that it had all been his own idea.

He asked for Priscilla and was told she was over in the gift shop helping the new Polish girl with the stock. Hamish uneasily remembered talking to Elspeth in the lounge and looking up and seeing that Polish maid. Had she said anything about Elspeth writing the horoscopes? Then he reflected dismally that even if she hadn’t, the gossip grapevine of Lochdubh had probably found out already. Nessie Currie would have seen to that.

He wondered if any of the villagers were protecting someone. He desperately didn’t want it to be anyone from the village.

He opened the door of the gift shop and went in. Priscilla and a Polish girl were sorting out a box of Shetland wool shawls, all of them as fine as gossamer.

“I’m just about finished here,” said Priscilla. “Want to talk?”

“Yes,” said Hamish. “If you can spare the time.”

She smiled. “I’ve always got time for you.”

Hamish turned away to hide the sudden rush of gladness on his face.

Priscilla finished giving the girl instructions and then said, “Let’s go. I could do with a coffee.”

Elspeth arrived to pick up her laptop just as they were both disappearing into the hotel. Straight back to her like a homing pigeon, thought Elspeth. He only said he was going to Bonar to get rid of me.

They sat in the lounge. Hamish could remember when it had been the family drawing room. Priscilla ordered coffee and biscuits and asked, “How far have you got today?”

Hamish told her about the interview with Fergus. “It might be an idea to go over and see this paper mill,” said Priscilla. “It’s just outside Strathbane on this side, isn’t it?”

“Maybe I’ll go there,” said Hamish. “Although I feel I should really be keeping an eye on Elspeth.”

“Oh, the horoscopes. How did you find out?”

“From the barman. I don’t know where he got it from. But don’t worry about Elspeth. She’s a good reporter, and good reporters know how to take care of themselves. When we finish our coffee we’ll go over.”

“We?”

“Yes, we.”

♦

Hamish was driving them along the road to Strathbane when he suddenly said, “There’s a Land Rover following us and I think I recognise it. I think it belongs to two deer poachers I arrested. They must be out on bail. We might be in for a bit of trouble.”

“Got your rifle?”

“In the back.”

Priscilla began to climb over into the back of the Land Rover. “What are you doing?” cried Hamish.

“I’d feel better if we were armed. Where is the ammo? Oh, got it. Are they coming closer?”

“Yes, they must have a souped-up engine. I’ll call for backup.”

He looked in the rearview mirror and saw a gun protruding from the passenger side of the pursuing vehicle. “Get down, Priscilla,” he shouted.

He felt a blast of cold air as Priscilla lowered one of the windows in the back. “Keep straight, Hamish. Don’t swerve. I’m going to shoot their tyres out.”

There was a blast of gunfire and Priscilla cried, “Got ‘em. Stop, Hamish. They’ve gone off the road.”

“Stay where you are,” said Hamish, jumping out of the Land Rover, but Priscilla joined him, carrying the rifle.

Hamish phoned for backup. Then he said to Priscilla, “They’re armed. We’re not going down there on our own.”

“How unexciting,” said Priscilla calmly. “Can you see where they’ve gone? It’s hard to make out anything in this mist.”

The poachers’ vehicle had gone off the edge of the road and down a steep heathery slope.

“No,” said Hamish. “They must have gone down a good way. You’re a good shot, Priscilla.”

“Haven’t lost my touch,” she said.

“Are the dog and cat all right?”

“They seem to be. I’ll let them out. Is there going to be a fuss about me being with you, Hamish?”

“No. I haven’t had a day off in ages. I’ll say it’s my time off. Daviot’s such a snob, he won’t dare complain about you being with me.”

When an armed squad arrived headed by Daviot, Hamish waited patiently, thinking of all the paperwork he would have to do if the men had been killed in the crash or even injured.

Blair then arrived and was looking about to blast Hamish when he saw Daviot talking to Priscilla, and his face fell.

Hamish told him what had happened. “Your day off, is it?” demanded Blair. “And who gie’d ye the permission?”

“I did,” said Jimmy’s voice behind Blair. “Constable Macbeth hasn’t had a day off in ages.”

The mist began to swirl and thin in a rising wind. The leader of the armed force came back up the brae. “Their vehicle’s there but they’re long gone. Their Land Rover ran into a big rock right down at the bottom o’ the hill. The thick heather must ha’ slowed their speed, because there’s hardly a dunt in the vehicle.”

“I want a full search for them,” ordered Daviot. “Hamish, I will let you and Miss Halburton-Smyfhe get on, but I will expect a statement from you by this evening. Do give that rifle to Detective Anderson. If you shot one of the men by mistake, then we will need it for evidence.”

“I shot the tyre out,” said Priscilla. “I never miss.” She laughed and held out the rifle to Jimmy. A flash went off. Hamish cursed. Elspeth and her photographer were standing at the edge of the group.

Elspeth came forward. “I would appreciate a statement, Superintendent Daviot.”

Daviot forced a smile. Elspeth had always been kind to the police. “Very well, Miss Grant.”

“Come along, Priscilla,” whispered Hamish urgently. “Let’s get out of here before Daviot sees the dog and cat. Neither of them has as good a pedigree as you, and Daviot will give me a bollocking for taking them around in a police vehicle.”

They drove off. When they were well clear of the scene, Priscilla said, “Stop!”

“What is it? Are they back?”

“No, I feel a bit sick and shaky.”

“And here’s me thinking you were made of iron. I’ll take you back.”

“No, let’s go on. I’ll be all right in a minute.”

♦

The manager of the paper works, Mr. Benjamin Worthy, looked at them both impatiently when Hamish asked whether Fergus could possibly have left the works unnoticed.

“I’ve been through all this before,” he said. Worthy was one of those lowland Scots who should never be put in charge of anyone. He had a brusque, bullying manner. He was small and round, wearing a suit, collar, and tie. He had small, black eyes in a discontented face.

“As I said already, they clock in here and clock out. There is only one way out of this factory for the men and that is past the security guard at the entrance.”

“But your trucks go in and out,” Hamish pointed out.

“Fergus Braid is not a truck driver. He is a machine operator.”

“Has he got any special friend here?”

“Is this necessary?”

“Oh, yes.”

“I’ll get the foreman.”

He bustled out, leaving them in his pretentious office with its framed Rotary Club photographs on the walls and its oversize desk.

After what seemed like a long time to Hamish and Priscilla, the door opened and a man in blue overalls came in. “I’m Mike Haggerty,” he said. “The foreman. The boss said you had some questions.”

“Did Fergus Braid have any special friend at the works?”

“You could maybe say that was me. We often grabbed a drink after work.”

“Could Fergus possibly have left the works on the day of his wife’s murder without anyone knowing?”

The foreman was tall and thin with thick glasses. A ray of sun shone in the window. The mist had lifted. Hamish noticed a thin film of sweat of Mike’s brow.

Hamish’s eyes sharpened. He decided to guess. “I know you covered for him,” he said sternly. “You may as well tell the truth or I’ll haul you in and charge you with impeding the police in their enquiries.”

“He wouldnae hurt a fly, Fergus wouldn’t,” blustered Mike. “He only wanted a couple of hours so I told him he could nip out through the lorry bay at the back.”

“And why didn’t you report this before?”

“Because there was one nasty swine o’ a detective bullying me and more or less telling me that Fergus had murdered Ina, and Fergus would never do such a thing.”

“Wait there,” ordered Hamish. He nodded to Priscilla, and they stepped outside. With a heavy heart, Hamish took out his phone and called Jimmy.

“Great!” enthused Jimmy, when Hamish had finished speaking. “Keep an eye on the bugger. I’ll be right over.”

♦

When the foreman was taken away, Hamish sadly went back to the Land Rover with Priscilla and drove off. “I only hope Fergus comes up with an alibi and a real one this time. I chust can’t believe that man would murder his wife. Blair will try to pin the other murders on him as well.”