Death of a Witch

∨ Death of a Witch ∧

10

The beaten men come into their own.

– John Masefield

After a long and weary trudge round the loch, Hamish was irritated to be told that Timmy had gone to the pub in Lochdubh.

The ground round the loch was flat, so there were no slopes to ski down. He wished he had worn his snowshoes instead. The sun was glittering blindingly on the snow. Lochdubh looked like a Christmas card, but, that morning, he was in no mood to admire it. When he reached the cleared waterfront, he took off his skis, carried them to the police station, and propped them against the wall. Then he made his way to the pub.

He went straight up to Timmy, who was propping up the bar. “You,” said Hamish curtly. “Follow me to the station.”

To Timmy’s nervous demands of “What’s up? What have I done?” Hamish only replied, “In the station.”

When they were settled in the office, Hamish began. “You’ve been holding out on me, Timmy.”

“Me? Man, I tellt ye about them poachers.”

“So you did. But you didn’t tell me you knew about Fiona McNulty.”

There was something like relief at the back of Timmy’s eyes. “Oh, well, I didn’t want to go getting any of the men in the village into trouble.”

“Like Fergus?”

“Aye, he was the only one I knew about.”

“And how did you know about him?”

“We got drinking one night and he tellt me.”

Hamish’s eyes sharpened. “There’s something else he told you that you aren’t letting on. Out with it, Timmy, or I’ll take you down to Strathbane and let Blair deal with you.”

“I cannae go betraying the man’s confidence.”

“Then we’re off to see Blair.”

“Och, anything but that. But you didnae hear it from me!”

“Out with it.”

“I cannae think it’s got anything to do wi’ the murder o’ his poor wife.”

“Spit it out.”

“It sounds right daft now. But she used to beat him.”

“Ina? That wee woman?”

“Fact. He had a sore dunt tae the head and he was saying it happened at work, but when he’d had a few jars, he says tae me that Ina hit him wi’ the frying pan.”

“Why did she do that?” asked Hamish.

“She’d learned from one o’ the women that he’d been seen one night up at the witch’s place.”

“You should ha’ told me this before. Off with you, Timmy. I may be talking to you later.”

Hamish phoned Jimmy. “I thought you were supposed to be on holiday,” said Jimmy. “I am. Is Fergus out?”

“Yes, he’s at home.”

“Thanks.”

“Hamish, if you know anything…”

“I’ll let you know. Talk to you later.”

♦

Hamish walked up to Fergus’s home and knocked at the door. Fergus answered. “Not again,” he said. “I’m no’ going back tae Strathbane.”

“Just a wee chat,” said Hamish.

“Come ben.”

Hamish edged his way around bulging rubbish sacks on the front step. “Been cleaning?” he asked.

“Aye. When I came back and saw the mess I’d been living in, I couldnae bear the sight of it. Poor Ina would ha’ gone mad.”

Hamish took off his cap and sat down. “Fergus, did Ina beat you?”

“What a thing to say and her not cold in her grave!”

“Fergus. You’ve got into trouble by not telling the truth. Out with it.”

“Well, maybe,” Fergus mumbled.

“You were seen going to Catriona Beldame’s.”

“Och, that was silly. She gave me this stuff and all it did was make my balls itch.”

“And Ina found out you’d been there?”

“Yes, someone told her.”

“And what did she do?”

“She hit me with the frying pan.”

“And was she in the habit of hitting you?”

Fergus hung his head. Then he burst out with: “What could I do, Hamish? I couldnae hit a woman. I couldnae talk about it. Me, a big man being hit by a wee woman? The shame o’ it.”

“What about Fiona McNulty. Did Ina know about her?”

“Maybe.”

“What maybe?”

“The day she was murdered, she left a note for me.”

“Fergus. For God’s sake, man. The things you’ve been keeping from me. Have you got the note?”

“No, I burnt it.”

“What did it say?”

“It said something like, “I know what you’ve been up to and you’re for it.””

“I got the idea you were relieved when she was killed.”

“I was that. I’m free at last. That’s what I thought. But you know what it’s like. You read about old lags who feel so strange and lost when they’re let out of prison after a long sentence that they can’t wait to get in again. I don’t seem to have thought for myself or acted for myself for a long time.”

“But you went to Fiona.”

Fergus looked at Hamish with pleading eyes. “Fiona wasnae really a hoor. She just did a bit on the side for some fellows. She was warm and nice. Hamish, you may as well have the lot. I hadn’t had any sex since my honeymoon. When we got back, herself says, “I’m not having any more of that nastiness.””

“You had grounds for a divorce.”

“This is Lochdubh, Hamish. I’m not the only one.”

“Who else visited Fiona?”

“I don’t know and that’s the truth. I never asked her. I wanted to keep up the lie that she was mine only.”

Fergus began to cry, great gulping sobs. Hamish handed him a handkerchief and waited in sympathetic silence until Fergus had cried himself out. “Just look at me,” said Fergus. “Crying over a hoor when I cannae even shed a tear for my ain wife.”

“Here’s what I want you to do,” said Hamish. “I want you to go to Dr. Brodie and get him to recommend a good psychiatrist. You need to talk all this out.”

“I’m not mad!”

“No, but you’ll drive yourself mad wi’ the load o’ guilt you’re carrying. Now, do you have any idea who’s been committing these murders?”

“Hamish, I swear to God I haven’t a clue.”

♦

Elspeth was wondering what to do about Perry. They both had been summoned back to the office. Elspeth had pointed out that the roads south were still impassable in a lot of places. The news editor told her to get back as soon as she could and to bring Perry with her.

She was anxious to remove Perry from Priscilla’s orbit. Perry was easy and charming to both of them. Elspeth was only comforted by the fact that she had overheard Priscilla inviting Perry for dinner and Perry had refused, saying he still had work to do.

In order to get Perry out of the hotel, she suggested they go down to the police station. “It would be a shame,” said Elspeth, “to get on the road and then find out Hamish had solved the murders. Then we’ve got Catriona’s funeral later on.”

“Do you think he will solve the murders?” asked Perry.

“He always has in the past. Mind you, there’s a first time for everything.”

♦

Hamish was in his office. He had pinned a large sheet of paper up on the wall with the names of the four murdered women with arrows pointing to each name from a centre circle in which he had written the one word in heavy black ink – SEX.

“Come in,” he said. “I’m just trying to work something out. Now, Archie Maclean said to me, “We don’t do sex in Lochdubh.” I thought that was funny at the time. But think of it. If that’s the case, there must be a good few sexually repressed men around.”

“Including you,” said Elspeth.

“Don’t be cheeky. Let me think. Wait a bit. What if I’ve been looking at this the wrong way round?”

“The funeral’s today,” interrupted Elspeth.

“Whose funeral?”

“Catriona. She’s still legally married to Rory so he’s agreed to stump up. Don’t suppose any of the village will be going, but Perry and I may as well do a piece. Mrs. Wellington will be there, of course.”

“That’s it!” exclaimed Hamish. “Mrs. Wellington. The village women were complaining to her about Catriona. What if I should be looking for a woman instead of a man? Take Catriona’s murder. Lesley said that provided the weapon was sharp enough, then a woman could have done it. All the murders seem to have been done in a frenzy of hate. Now, if Ina wasn’t one of the murderees, I might have thought it was her.”

“Why Ina?”

“Never you mind. When’s the funeral?”

“Three o’clock.”

“Maybe see you there. I’ve got to dash.”

♦

As Hamish walked up to the manse, he marvelled at how little he actually knew of what went on behind the lace curtains of the cottages in Lochdubh.

Whoever would have thought that Fergus was a battered husband?

Mrs. Wellington greeted him with a curt “I’m busy.”

“It iss verra important,” said Hamish. Mrs. Wellington always made him feel nervous. She invited him into the manse’s vast and old-fashioned kitchen.

“Don’t sit down,” she barked as Hamish removed his hat.

He turned and faced her. “Before Catriona was murdered, a lot of the women came to you about their husbands visiting her. Was there any particular one that was more upset than the others?”

“If, as I think you are, you are trying to pin any of these murders on the respectable ladies of Lochdubh, then I have nothing to say to you.”

“There have been four murders and maybe there’ll be another one if you don’t help.”

“Then look for a man! Women are the gentler sex, or have you forgotten?”

“Did you know that Ina Braid beat her husband?”

Mrs. Wellington had been rolling pastry. She glared at him and brandished the rolling pin. Hamish took a quick step back.

“Either Fergus is really guilty or all this has turned his brain. I knew Ina Braid, and she was a gentle soul.”

♦

Hamish returned to the station. The wind was rising and blowing powdery snow from the tops of drifts. The sky above was getting darker. Villagers were queuing at Patel’s, frightened that more snow would mean that deliveries of goods wouldn’t get through.

In the police station, he sought out two camper’s gas lamps and placed them in readiness on the kitchen table. More snow would probably mean a power cut. Sonsie and Lugs crashed through the flap on the door. Hamish could see that their coats were embedded with hard little snowballs. He filled a basin with warm water and patiently began to remove the snow from them.

Then he put more peat in the stove before pouring himself a cup of coffee, going into the office, getting his notes, and once more spreading them out on the kitchen table.

The snow meant that he would have at least the whole of what was left of the day free from interruptions. Then he remembered Catriona’s funeral. Surely it wouldn’t take place on such a day.

He phoned Mrs. Wellington. “No, of course not,” she said in answer to his query. “Mr. McBride is unable to get further north because of the snow and we are going to wait until he arrives.”

“What…?” began Hamish when the phone went dead.

He went back to the kitchen and tried the lights. No success. The snow piling up against the kitchen window was cutting out any light.

He lit the lamps and hoped that his sheep were safely in the shelter he had built for them. He suddenly cursed, remembering he hadn’t given them their winter feed.

Hamish strapped on his snowshoes and collected two buckets of feed he had ready by the door. He put on a coat and woollen hat, opened the door, and plunged into the roaring white storm outside. He felt a superstitious shudder as he made his way up the hill at the back.

The wind was screaming and howling. It was as if the old gods had decided to take back Sutherland, take it away from the petty grip of man and restore it to a wilderness.

He was pleased that the low wooden shelter he had built for the sheep was holding up. He poured their feed into a trough, stood for a moment watching them, and then headed back to the station.

♦

Elspeth and Perry struggled back to the hotel. “We’ll never get out of here,” said Perry. “Not that I care much.” But that charming smile of his was not only for Elspeth but also for Priscilla, who had come to meet them.

“Clarry’s made some mulled wine,” said Priscilla. “Like some?”

“Lovely,” said Perry. “Wait till we get out of these wet clothes. My feet feel like two blocks of ice and we’re dripping melted snow all over the place. Come on, Elspeth.”

Priscilla watched them go. Was there anything going on between them? Her father had got on the phone to friends in the south and had found out all about Perry’s impeccable background and had started nagging his daughter to ‘do something.’

Usually that would have been enough to put Priscilla off, but she was becoming more and more fascinated by Perry.

The hotel generator could be heard faintly through the noise of the storm outside. She paced up and down the hall. What was taking them so long? Had they gone to bed together? Perish the thought!

Priscilla decided that she had better retreat to the lounge and look as if she were reading a magazine.

It was a full half hour before they both appeared.

“I’ll get the wine,” said Priscilla.

“Don’t you just ring the bell?” asked Perry.

“Only a few of the staff live in, and they are cleaning the rooms.”

“She moves like a dancer,” said Perry appreciatively. “Very graceful girl.”

“I brought down my laptop,” said Elspeth in a dull little voice. “I thought that after we have our mulled wine, we could go though everything. There might be a clue somewhere.”

“All right. At least if someone wants to kill you, they won’t get anywhere near the hotel in this weather.”

“Something’s up!” Elspeth cocked her head to one side like a bird. Then she ran out of the lounge, through the hall and out the open door. Very faintly, muffled by the roar of the storm, she heard the church bell. But it couldn’t be ringing for Catriona. She had already checked that the funeral was off. The bell, apart from Sundays, was only rung for an emergency.

This she told to Perry who had appeared beside her. “I’d better get back down there,” she said. “There might be a story. I’ll get the photographer.”

“Elspeth, I am not going out into that screaming wilderness again.”

“Suit yourself.”

♦

The emergency was that Mr. Patel’s small son, Bertie, had gone missing. In answer to his frantic cries for help, Hamish had rushed to the church and rung the bell, telling the village men who had struggled to answer its summons to start searching. He then did a quick check of the bedroom that Bertie shared with his brothers. On Bertie’s pillow was an open book, the story of the Ice Queen.

Bertie was only six years old and a dreamy boy. Had he gone out to look for the mythical queen?

♦

Priscilla came back with a tray of mulled wine. “Where’s Elspeth?”

“Our intrepid reporter thought she heard the church bell ringing. Her photographer is refusing to move.”

Priscilla put down the tray. “I’ll go after her. She shouldn’t be on her own. And something serious must have happened.”

“Now I feel like a heel,” said Perry. “I’ll come with you.”

♦

Elspeth skied towards the village. She was halfway there when she realised the wind was slacking. She dug her poles in and came to an abrupt stop. Something was lying on the road.

She went forward. It was a child. A faint whimper escaped it.

Elspeth dragged the child to its feet. A tear-stained brown face looked up at her.

“You’re Patel’s boy,” said Elspeth. “What are…? Never mind. I’m going to stoop down and I want you to get on my back. Right. Now hang on very tightly and I’ll get you home.”

She dug in her poles and sped down the road, nearly taking off at the humpbacked bridge.

Elspeth went straight to Patel’s. Mrs. Patel burst into tears as her boy slid down off Elspeth’s back.

“Get blankets,” said Elspeth. “I’ll go and get Dr. Brodie.”

Word spread rapidly that me boy had been found. Matthew Campbell had taken a photograph of Elspeth as she sped into the village with the boy on her back. He would add it to his stories about the blizzard and send a copy out to the nationals.

♦

By the time Elspeth returned with Dr. Brodie, the shop was full of people, including Perry and Priscilla. A grateful Mr. Patel hugged Elspeth, tears of gratitude running down his cheeks. “Bertie had been reading a story about me Ice Queen. He asked me where she lived. He said he had seen her in the shop. He meant you, Miss Halburton-Smythe, because you look like the pictures in his book. So I said that she lived in that big castle up on the hill.”

“Take me upstairs to the boy,” said Dr. Brodie.

Hamish had been standing listening. He suddenly laughed. “The Ice Queen! That is a verra good description.”

“Shut up!” said Priscilla and walked out of the shop.

♦

The following morning Hamish went back to studying his notes and reports until his head ached. If the murderer was a woman, men he was looking at someone in the village. He went back to the old guest list for the hotel. No hope there.

Then he went into the office and looked at the chart on me wall. Four murders all leading down to the sign that read SEX.

Wait a minute, he thought. Have I been missing the obvious? The one person with a clear motive is Fergus. What if Sky in the café had been lying? Or what if she wanted a bit of the limelight? That was the trouble with so many reality programmes on television – everyone wanted fame these days without necessarily working at anything to achieve it. Maybe she had seen herself called as a witness at a murder trial and being photographed afterwards.

Hamish wondered if the roads had been ploughed all the way over to Cnothan.

He dressed warmly, got into the Land Rover, and drove off. He was in luck. The roads had been ploughed. The sun was low in the sky. It never rose very high in the winter. He parked in the main street and entered the café. The owner said it was Sky’s day off, but that she lived in the last house at the top of the main street.

Hamish went there and rang the bell. A thin, faded blonde woman wearing too much make-up answered the door. “I am Police Constable Macbeth from Lochdubh,” said Hamish. “Might I be having a wee word with Sky?”

“What’s she done?”

“Nothing as far as I know,” said Hamish mildly. “Am I talking to Sky’s mother?”

“Yes.”

“When’s her birthday?”

“Tenth o’ June. Why are you asking?”

Hamish’s heart felt suddenly heavy. “Never mind. Just call her.”

“Go in and have a seat. I’ll get her.”

After a few moments, Sky slouched in. She was a sulky-looking girl, chewing a great wad of gum. Her hair was dyed an improbable red and she was thin to the point of anorexia.

“You lied to me,” said Hamish severely.

“I did not. I member that fellow fine.”

“It was not your birthday for a start. Your birthday was in June.”

“I just said that to make you believe me. But he was in that day, honest.”

“So what makes you sure it was that day?”

“I was going to go clubbing in Strathbane that evening but the mist got so bad, me and my friends didn’t go.”

“There have been other foggy days,” said Hamish severely. “You shouldnae ever lie to the police. If I find out Fergus wasnae in your café, I’ll be back to arrest you for wasting police time.”

♦

Hamish drove back to Lochdubh. He parked on the waterfront and walked up to Fergus’s cottage. Fergus ushered him in. “A dram, Hamish?”

“No. This is serious. That girl at the café, she lied about the day she saw you being her birthday. Did you get to her in any way? Pay her?”

“Hamish, what are you talking about? I was there!”

“I’m right worried, Fergus. The one thing that connects the four women in a way is you. You stood to gain money if your husband-beating wife died. You visited Catriona and Fiona.”

“Och, Hamish. Will this never end?”

“I’ll need to go over all your alibis again. I’ll go to that paper mill tomorrow and warn that foreman if he’s been lying for you, I’ll have him arrested.”

Fergus looked weary. “Do what you must. I’ve had enough. I’ve protested ma innocence over and over again. I’m going to phone the lawyer. I need protection.”

“I think you do.” Hamish turned in the doorway. A sudden thought struck him. Looking back at Fergus, he couldn’t believe the man guilty of anything.

“Fergus, do you know of any other man in Lochdubh who’s being beaten by his wife?”

Fergus gave a harsh laugh. “Try next door.”

“What, the Framonts? Why didn’t you tell me this?”

“It’s husband beating. It’s no’ murder.”

♦

Hamish stood outside Fergus’s house. Could it be? Could it possibly be?

He went to the Framonts’ and rang the bell. Colin answered the door. He had a burn mark on the side of his face.

“How did you get that burn?” asked Hamish.

“Got it at work,” said Colin.

“Can I come in? I’d like a word with you and the wife.”

“Tilly’s not here.”

“Where is she?”

“She’s gone up to the hotel.”

“Why?”

“Women’s stuff. She wants Elspeth Grant to read her horoscope.”

Hamish stared at him and then wheeled about and began to run down to his Land Rover as fast as he could.

He drew out his mobile phone as soon as he got into the vehicle. No signal. He put on the siren and raced off out of the village.

MR. JOHNSON PHONED Elspeth, who was working in her room. “Mrs. Framont is at the reception. She wants to come up and see you.”

“Why?”

“She wants her horoscope read.”

Elspeth felt gooseflesh rising on her arms. “Tell her to wait in the lounge. I’ll be down soon. First, has the colonel got an old flak jacket anywhere?”

“He’s away but I’ll ask Priscilla.”

“Tell her to phone me if she’s got one.”

“What…?”

“Please just do it.”

Elspeth waited nervously. She tried the phone. Still dead.

Then there was a knock at the door. “Who is it?” she called.

“It’s me, Priscilla.”

Elspeth opened the door. “What do you want with this?” asked Priscilla, holding out an old flak jacket.

“Help me on with it and I’ll tell you.”

♦

Elspeth entered the lounge. She was wearing the flak jacket under an old sweater. Fortunately the colonel had last worn his flak jacket years ago when he was a slim young officer.

“Miss Grant,” said Tilly. “I’m right sorry to bother you but I mind you from the days when you did the horoscopes for the Highland Times and I wonder if I could have a reading.”

“Please sit down. No, sit opposite me. I don’t do readings.” Elspeth had a sudden inspiration. “But I read palms. Hold out your hands.”

All the while Elspeth was thinking, She can’t be a murderer. She looks so small and inoffensive. But Tilly’s eyes were glittering with an odd light. She held out her hands.

♦

Hamish had nearly reached the hotel when he saw the lights of a car racing towards him. He slowed down and saw that Priscilla was the driver. He stopped. She climbed out of her car, shouting, “Tilly Framont’s at the hotel getting Elspeth to tell her horoscope.”

“I know,” Hamish shouted back. “Let me past.” Priscilla swung her car to the side of the one-track road and Hamish roared off past her.

♦

Elspeth stared down at the pair of housework-reddened hands and said, “I see violence and murder in your hands, Mrs. Framont.”

Three guests came into the lounge. Tilly snatched her hands away. “You’re nothing but a fraud,” she said. She got up and began to march away. Elspeth followed her. She desperately wanted Tilly to do or say something to betray herself. Tilly went out of the hotel and walked towards her car.

“Well, good night,” said Elspeth, and she turned to walk back into the hotel.

A police siren sounded. Driving into the hotel, Hamish Macbeth thought he would never forget the sight that met his eyes.

As Elspeth turned away, Tilly took a pair of scissors out of her pocket, ran forward, and stabbed Elspeth viciously in the back.

Elspeth fell face-forward in the snow.

Hamish jumped down from the Land Rover and grabbed Tilly and threw her to the ground. She screamed and clawed at him. He finally got handcuffs on her. Mr. Johnson came running out. Priscilla drove up and got out of her car. She and Hamish ran to Elspeth.

“Help me up,” said Elspeth.

“Let’s get you to the hospital fast,” said Hamish.

“It’s all right,” said Elspeth. “She didn’t get me. I’m wearing one of the colonel’s old flak jackets.”

Hamish rounded on Mr. Johnson. “Why was Elspeth left alone with this woman?”

“I told them to,” said Elspeth. “I thought I would be safe.”

Perry came running out. “What’s happened?”

“Oh, Perry,” said Elspeth and burst into tears. He wrapped his arms around her.

“Hamish, the phones are back on,” said Mr. Johnson.

“Right. Help me get her into the office and I’ll get Jimmy ower from Strathbane.”

♦

In the office with ex-policeman Clarry taking notes, Hamish switched on the small tape recorder he always carried with him and charged Tilly with attempted culpable homicide. She had subsided into a mutinous silence.

Hamish tried question after question but she just stared at him defiantly.

At last Hamish picked up the phone and, consulting his notebook, dialled Colin Framont’s number. “Colin, I have arrested your wife,” he said. “Come up to the hotel.”

“No,” said Tilly. “You have no right to bring him here.”

“I have every right.”

“Filth. You’re all filth,” said Tilly.

“What, men?”

“Aye, the lot of you, and you will roast in hell for your bestial lusts.”

“Confession is good for the soul,” said Hamish. “Why don’t we begin at the beginning? Let’s start with Catriona Beldame.”

“He went to her. My Colin. He’d never even disobeyed me before. He had to be stopped. Oh, she looked that startled when herself saw me, lying naked in her sinful bed. But I shut her up for good.”

“You could have been caught lighting that fuse,” said Hamish.

“Not me. The Lord was with me that day.”

“But Ina? Why Ina?”

A tear ran down one of her cheeks and she brushed it angrily away. “She was my best friend. We were always agreed on everything. Keep the men in their place and if they won’t stay there, give them a good whack. I thought she’d be pleased but she said it was on her conscience and she felt she ought to tell the police. The Lord was watching over me again and he sent down a fog to cover me when I darted into Patel’s and killed her.”

“And Ellie Macpherson?”

“I couldn’t take a chance. She had to be silenced. The Lord told me she had to be silenced.”

“And Fiona McNulty?”

“That hoor. I made Colin tell me about her. He said Fergus had been seeing her. My Ina’s husband betraying her by going to a hoor?”

Jimmy Anderson came in flanked by Harry MacNab and a policewoman.

“I have her confessions on tape,” said Hamish wearily. “You’ll find Clarry has excellent shorthand notes as well. Take her away and interview her yourself, Jimmy.”

Hamish found Colin Framont in the hall. He turned his head away as Tilly was taken past him.

“You as well,” said Jimmy, taking Colin’s arm. “Hamish, file a full report.”

Colin was led out protesting that he knew nothing about it.

Hamish went back to where Priscilla was looking blankly at the stairs. “Where’s Elspeth?”

“She and Perry have gone to file a story. Want a drink?”

“Just the one. I never asked where Blair was.”

They went into the bar. Hamish was miserable because the murderer had turned out to be one of the villagers. Priscilla was miserable because Perry and Elspeth seemed to be close.

They ordered whiskies and sat in silence for a while. Then Priscilla said, “You should have gone with them. You solved the case.”

“The old, old reason, Priscilla. Too much focus on me means a promotion and promotion means moving to Strathbane.”

“I can hardly believe it,” said Priscilla. “I worked with Tilly from time to time on visits up here when there was a crofters’ fair or something like that.”

“She beat her husband.” Hamish took a swallow of his whisky. “Fergus’s wife beat him, too, and I’m supposed to know everything that goes on in the village. I wonder what other bit of misery is going on behind closed doors that I don’t know about. You seem pretty low. Get a fright?”

“Yes, something like that.”

♦

When Hamish got back to the police station, he typed out a report and sent it over to Strathbane. Then he took the dog and cat out for a walk through the snow on the waterfront. The loch was glassy black. The air was still and crisp and cold. Bright stars shone down overhead. A television set in one of the cottages was playing a comedy, and the sound of canned laughter made Hamish feel as if the old gods were laughing at him for being such a blind fool.

What was it Archie had said? “We don’t do sex in Lochdubh.”

Poor buggers, thought Hamish. He had a bright picture of Priscilla staring desolately at the stairs when Elspeth and Perry had just gone up to write their story.

“Poor me,” he said out loud.