Death Of An Addict

CHAPTER EIGHT

Callum's heart beat hard as he went into the noise of Lachie's disco that night. How much should he ask for such information? A thousand?

He went up to the bar. The bartender eyed him with disfavour. "What d'ye want, old man?"

"Not so much o' the old man, laddie," said Callum. "I'm here to see Lachie."

"Oh, aye? And what's your business?"

"I've got information for him."

"Awa' wi' ye. He's busy."

"Okay, tell him I'll see him in prison." Callum had shouted the last words to be heard above the disco beat. "Wait here," said the bartender.

Callum turned round and watched the gyrating couples. How could folks get enjoyment out of dancing like that? The stabbing strobes hurt his eyes and the music hurt his ears. No damn tune, either.

The bartender came back. "Come with me."

He led Callum through to Lachie's office.

Lachie was alone. Callum threw a longing glance at the bar in the corner.

Lachie was sitting behind his desk. He did not ask Callum to sit down.

"So what's this information?" he asked.

"I'm not saying anything until I see Jimmy White and get paid for it."

Lachie leaned forward. "I don't know anything about anyone called Jimmy White. Get out o' here."

"He's caught in the middle o' a police scam," said Callum sulkily.

Lachie looked at him long and hard, and then he smiled. "Have a seat. What's your name?"

"Callum."

"Callum what?"

"Just Callum."

"Drink?"

"Aye, a whisky would be fine."

Lachie picked up the phone and, turning away from Callum, whispered into it. After he had replaced the receiver, he went to the bar and poured a generous glass of whisky for Callum.

"Cheers!" said Callum.

Lachie nodded. Then he said, "How much are you asking for this information?"

"A thousand pounds," said Callum.

"Well, we'll see." The door opened and the Undertaker came in. "On his way," he said briefly. He sat down on a chair against the wall. He took out a nasty-looking knife and began to clean his nails.

"I thought they only did that on the fillums," said Callum nervously. Both men said nothing, just looked steadily and unnervingly at Callum.

"It's been fine weather," said Callum.

Nothing. They just continued to stare at him. Callum could feel sweat breaking out on his forehead. He began to curse Blair in his mind. He was beginning to feel all this was too deep and dangerous for a small-time villain like himself.

The door opened and Jimmy White came in. Callum immediately knew this must be Jimmy White from the expensive clothes and the two brutal-looking henchmen who came in behind him.

Jimmy White drew up a chair next to Callum and said, "Speak."

"It's important information," said Callum. "I want a thousand pounds for it."

"You'll get it. Now, speak."

"I'd like to see the money first," said Callum, frightened but determined.

"You have the word of Jimmy White. Isn't that good enough for you?"

Callum caved in. Now all he wanted was to get out of this dreadful place. The office was soundproofed but the disco beat filtered through like the beating of his heart.

"It's like this," he said. "You're dealing with a man who says he's Hamish George and his wife."

"So?"

"He's Hamish Macbeth, a copper from Lochdubh, and his so-called wife is a detective chief inspector from Glasgow. The heroin you're getting is from that haul the police grabbed in Glasgow. At the next drop, all the police will be waiting for you."

"Who told you this?"

"I got it from top level in the police but I cannae be revealing my source. Now, what about that money?"

Jimmy White turned to one of his henchmen. He made a twisting motion with his hands. "Pay him."

Callum relaxed and picked up his whisky. One of the henchmen stepped forward and deftly slipped a wire around Callum's scrawny neck and pulled tight. The rest watched with interest as Callum writhed and fought and then was still. His lifeless body slumped to the floor.

"Dump that in the harbour," said Jimmy.

"You'd best clear off," said Lachie.

"Not before I take out Hamish Macbeth," said Jimmy. "That bastard's going to pay for this with his life."

Hamish went through to their little hotel sitting room the following morning. Olivia looked up at him, her face shiny bright as if lacquered. He thought, She's going to say, "I hope you are not going to take what happened between us last night seriously."

"Sit down, Hamish. Coffee? There's something we need to discuss."

"You're going to say that last night is to be forgotten," said Hamish.

"Well, yes. We've got a job on and we cannot have any emotional involvement."

"Very well, ma'am."

There was an awkward silence. Hamish switched on the television. It was the local news. "A body was recovered from the harbour at Strathbane this morning," said the announcer. "Police are not revealing the identity of the dead man until relatives have been informed. Foul play is suspected."

"Find out who that was," said Hamish.

"Why?"

"We're involved in a drug scam and suddenly there's a dead body. I'd like to know who it is."

Olivia phoned Daviot, who said he would phone back. "I think we're both worrying too much, Hamish."

"I've suddenly got a bad feeling," said Hamish. "Dammit, I know there's something gone wrong."

The phone rang, making them both jump. Olivia answered it, listened, said thank you and rang off. "He was a small-time crook called Callum Short."

"Could they get a photograph of him over here?"

"Why, Hamish?"

"Chust a hunch. Please, Olivia."

Olivia rang again and asked for a photograph of the dead man. "I hope you're not cracking up," she said to Hamish.

"How did he die?"

"He was strangled."

"I'm worried."

"But why?"

"I'll tell you when I see that photo."

Olivia had ordered breakfast but Hamish picked at his.

After an hour, there was a knock at the door. "That'll be the photograph," said Olivia.

She swung open the door.

Jimmy White's henchmen walked in. Both held guns. One said, "You'll put on your coats and come with us. One movement, Macbeth, and we'll shoot her first in the stomach."

They put on their coats. "And look cheery about it," the taller of the two growled. "One sign to alert anyone and she's dead."

Numbly they walked downstairs. Outside, there was a long black car. The door swung open. "In the back," they were ordered. They climbed in. Jimmy White was sitting there, holding a small pistol.

"Where are you taking us?" asked Hamish.

"Shut your face," said Jimmy.

The car sped on out of Strathbane. Hamish held Olivia's hand. How had they been unmasked? Was it something to do with that body in the harbour?

Then he realised they were heading for Lochdubh.

"You taking me home?" he asked Jimmy.

"Aye, we did some checking up on you. I've been up all night," said Jimmy. "Highland copper who loves the place. So you'll die there."

"Man, everyone will know you killed us!" said Hamish. "You'll have all the police looking for you."

"I'll be on my way to South America tonight," said Jimmy. "And I want everyone to know I did it. Nobody messes wi' me. I was thinking of retiring anyway."

The car cruised down to the harbour at Lochdubh. Hamish could see Jimmy's high-powered boat in the harbour.

"As I said, I checked up on you," said Jimmy. "You're supposed to be taking a wee holiday. So as part of your holiday, you're coming on a sail with me. You're the only copper in Lochdubh, so there won't be any more of the fuzz around. Nobody likes a policeman, so the villagers wont be much interested in what you do. But just in case you try to warn any of them, they'll be killed."

He's mad, thought Hamish. Stark staring mad. And yet, he'll get away with it. Dump me and Olivia at sea and head off to France or Amsterdam and disappear.

The car stopped on the harbour. "Get out," ordered Jimmy. "You men, keep the guns concealed, but shoot if you have to. Hughie"-to the driver-"take this car away and lose it."

Hamish got out of the car and then helped Olivia out. He took a longing look at Lochdubh. If I ever get out of this alive, he thought, I'll never leave the place again.

"Hamish!" He froze.

Angela Brodie was hurrying along the waterfront towards them. "Get rid of her fast," snarled Jimmy.

"Why, Hamish," said Angela, coming up to him, "you're looking very grand. Won the lottery?"

"No, thrift shop," said Hamish.

"You'll need to tell me which thrift shop and I'll go there myself," exclaimed Angela.

"I've got to go," said Hamish, conscious of Jimmy's gun in his ribs. "I'll call on you when I get back."

Angela looked from one to the other. Why didn't Hamish introduce her and why was that woman with him so white-faced and frightened?

"Your sheep are all right, Hamish," she said. Jimmy was urging Hamish away from her.

"What about the black one?" asked Hamish over his shoulder. "It's sick. I think it's going to be put down. See you."

Another jab from the gun. Hamish and Olivia went down the stone steps to the large white cruiser which was Jimmy's boat. They were urged down into the cabin. "Tie them up and let's get out of here," said Jimmy.

"What are you going to do with us?" asked Hamish as their hands and feet were bound.

"Weight you down and throw you overboard," said Jimmy. "Like I said, I was going to retire and this will be my last great up-yours to the coppers. No one makes a fool out o' Jimmy White."

He jerked his head to the two henchmen. "No need to guard them. Let's go up on deck. The smell of police gets up my nose."

"What went wrong?" Olivia said through white lips when she and Hamish were alone.

"Someone blabbed."

"Who?"

"Someone at Strathbane."

"You mean police headquarters? Surely not. Maybe someone recognised you."

"I didn't go out of the hotel without my hat and dark glasses on. I took them off the day of the picnic, but only for the picnic. There's a lot of drunkenness in the police force and they consort with their informers."

"Whoever did this must have known we would be killed."

"Maybe not. Maybe they thought that the whole business would be aborted and that we'd all be left with egg on our faces."

"Hamish, I'm terrified."

He leaned forward and kissed her. It was all he could do. His mind went this way and that, but he could not see any hope for them. He was glad of the pain from the wire binding his wrists and ankles. It took his mind off, just a little, from his forthcoming death.

Then he cocked his head. "Listen, another boat." He listened again. "Sounds like a fishing boat."

"Ahoy there," called a voice.

"Get your boat away, man. You're right across our bows."

"I've run out o' baccy," whined the other voice.

"Archie Macleod, by all that's holy," said Hamish.

"Who's he?"

"Local fisherman. What's he doing out this time of day? And he doesn't smoke."

"Should I shoot him, boss?" One of the henchmen.

"No, I'll give him a packet of cigarettes. Go downstairs the pair of you and keep them quiet. Don't want any shouts for help."

"Bring your boat alongside," yelled Jimmy.

" Verra kind of you, sir."

Soon both engines were cut.

"You're going to a lot of trouble for a packet of cigarettes," said Jimmy, eyeing the small figure of Archie Macleod with distaste. "Here, take the whole packet and be off with you."

The fishing boat drifted a little away.

"Och, I cannae reach," said Archie. "Boys, a bit o' help here!"

Suddenly fishermen came racing up the companionway of the fishing boat, seized grappling irons and pulled Jimmy's boat close to their own.

Jimmy struggled to get his gun out of his coat pocket, but Archie had also seized a grappling iron and with tremendous force for such a small man, he rammed it straight into Jimmy's chest and sent him sprawling on the deck. Archie leapt onto Jimmy's boat and held an evil-looking gutting knife to his throat, just as his two henchmen erupted onto the deck.

"They shoot us," panted Archie, "and afore the bullet hits me, you're dead."

"Don't shoot.'" shouted Jimmy, his eyes dilating with terror.

"Throw your guns in the water," said Archie, kneeling on Jimmy's chest.

"Do as they say," howled Jimmy, beside himself with terror. He had caused people to be tortured, killed and maimed but never in his unsavoury life had he himself ever been in such peril.

The men threw their guns in the water.

"Tie them all up," ordered Archie. There was a splash as Jimmy's skipper left the wheelhouse and threw himself overboard.

"Silly man," said Archie. "He will not be getting far."

Once Jimmy and the others were all trussed up, Archie made his way down to the saloon.

"Och, it iss yourself, Hamish," he said cheerily. "And your young leddy."

"I wass neffer so glad to see anyone in my life, Archie," said Hamish. "Can you get this wire off? The lady first."

Archie sawed at Olivias bonds. "You'll owe me a new gutting knife, Hamish," he said. "It'll neffer be the same after cutting wire."

"I'll buy you a gold one," said Olivia, and burst into tears.

"Dinnae greet," said Archie. "It's all ower. We got them all."

When he and Olivia were free, Hamish massaged his wrists and said, "How did you know?"

"It was herself, Angela, Mrs. Brodie. You said something to her about a black sheep that had to be put down and herself kenned you didnae have a black sheep and she thought they looked a lot o' villains so she rushes into the Lochdubh bar shouting you've been shanghaied. Then she goes running around the village, calling the folks out o' their houses. Man, I had a rare time. It wass like the movies."

The boat began to move again. "David Queen is at the wheel o' my fishing boat," said Archie. "He's towing us in." Suddenly the sound of the engine cut.

"What now?" asked Hamish nervously.

"Och, he'll have stopped to pull the skipper o' this boat out of the water."

Sure enough, there came cries and then the thump of someone being hauled on deck. Then the engine started up again.

"Davie Queens been on the ship-to-shore radio to tell folks you're all right. Who's your leddy?"

"This is Detective Chief Inspector Chater from Glasgow, Archie."

"My, my, imagine a bonny wee lassie like yourself getting mixed up with killers like thon.' What you need is a nice man like Hamish here to marry and have some bairns. I wass chust saying the other day to the wife, it's time our Hamish got married."

Hamish's face flamed scarlet. "Drop it, Archie. You're a worse danger than Jimmy White."

Olivia was standing on the deck beside Hamish as they approached the harbour at Lochdubh. The harbour was crowded. It looked as if the whole village had turned out.

A great cheer went up as Hamish and Olivia walked up the weedy stone steps to the harbour.

Hamish hoped he wouldn't cry. They were all there: Angela and her husband, Dr. Brodie, the Currie sisters, minister Mr. Wellington and his large tweedy wife.

Hamish went straight up and gave Angela a hug. "You're a clever girl," he said.

"I knew something was wrong when you talked about that black sheep," said Angela, "and your poor girlfriend looked frightened to death."

For the first time in her career, Olivia felt reduced in status.

"We had better go straight to police headquarters, Macbeth," she snapped, "after we have seen Jimmy and his associates taken away."

Angela gave her a look of dislike. "Who's she?" she asked Hamish.

"Detective Inspector Chater."

"Oh, really? Doesn't the word 'thank you' enter her vocabulary?"

Olivia felt ashamed of herself. "I'm sorry," she said to Angela. "I owe you my life, and Archie."

"You can thank them later," said Hamish. "Let's go to the police station and phone."

"What happened?" cried Angela, and several voices added theirs to hers, demanding to know the story.

Olivia, who was still shaking with fright and nerves, could only marvel at the calm way Hamish told the story of their abduction. The crowd was silent, hanging on every word. Although she far outranked Hamish, she had to wait patiently, because this was Lochdubh, where Hamish Macbeth was king.

"We all know drug money corrupts," said the chief constable heavily.

It was early evening. The table in the conference room at police headquarters was surrounded by top brass. Hamish and Olivia sat side by side at the end of the table.

"I cannot see how word could have possibly leaked out," said Daviot. "I think someone recognised Macbeth and told Lachie."

"Who was Callum Short?" asked Hamish suddenly.

They all looked at him.

"The man who was strangled and thrown in the harbour."

"Why?" asked Daviot.

"Because it is just possible he might have been the informant. It's just a hunch."

Detective Jimmy Anderson was there. "We checked up on him. He was a small-time villain."

Blair stared at the table. He longed for a drink but there was only Perrier water. Thank God he had played his snouts close to his chest. He had destroyed the book with the names of his informants and had replaced it with a new record without Callum's name.

"I asked for a photograph to be sent to the hotel. Was it ever sent?"

"I'll find out," said Daviot, and nodded to his secretary, who went out of the room.

"Despite all that, the operation has been a great success," said Daviot. "Jimmy White arrested and the others being rounded up."

The representatives of the Glasgow police talked at length about how their troops were being massed for dawn raids on several addresses.

Daviot's secretary, Helen, came back in. "Well?" demanded Daviot.

"The photographs and the file on Callum Short are missing," she said.

"What about the computer log?"

"There's nothing on that."

"What!" exclaimed Jimmy Anderson. "There was first thing this morning because I looked it up myself."

"This could mean that someone in headquarters leaked the information about the scam to Callum and Callum tried to sell it," said Hamish.

Blair could feel sweat trickling down inside his shirt.

"We'll need to start a full investigation," said Daviot.

"If I could make a suggestion." Hamish Macbeth again. Blair suppressed a groan. "If this Callum was selling information, then he would go to Lachie at the disco, and to get to Lachie, he would ask the bartender."

"Hasn't the bartender been picked up?" asked Daviot.

Jimmy Anderson shook his head. "He's disappeared."

"Then we'll need to find out from the young people who were there if anyone answering Callum's description was seen in Lachie's," said Olivia.

"We'll do that."

When they were back in their hotel room, Hamish said flatly, "I've a damn good idea who's behind the tip-off."

"Who?"

"Blair. Detective Chief Inspector Blair. He's aye hated my guts and saw this as a way to get rid of me."

"Surely not. But if those are your suspicions, you must tell Daviot."

"Waste of time. He won't listen. Not unless I have some concrete proof."

"There will be a thorough investigation. If Blair's guilty, then they'll get him."

"Maybe, but I doubt it. He'll be covering his tracks all over the place. Well, we've got two weeks' leave. I'm going back to Lochdubh in the morning and then I'll start looking into Tommy Jarret's death again. Want to come with me?"

She hesitated and then suddenly smiled. "I'd like that."

"I don't think anyone they've arrested is going to say anything about Tommy's death," said Hamish. "They know they wouldn't last long in prison if they talked. Do you want anything more to eat? That buffet supper at headquarters wasn't very filling."

"No, I'm all right. I'm very tired. I think I'll go to bed."

Later they lay in their twin beds in the darkness. Olivia rubbed her wrists, which still hurt from the wire. She closed her eyes but terror seized her. She was once more in that boat, tied up, without hope.

"Hamish.'" she wailed.

He came to her and got in beside her in the narrow bed and folded his arms about her. "Hush," he said. "It's all right. Hamish is here," and he cradled her like a child until she fell asleep.

In the morning, Blair sought an audience with Daviot.

"Good heavens," said Daviot. "You look a wreck."

Blair was unshaven, his eyes bloodshot, and he looked as if he had slept in his clothes.

"I want your advice, sir," said Blair humbly.

"Of course."

"The fact is, sir, I'm having trouble with the drink. Och, why beat about the bush. I'm an alcoholic."

"Are you sure? We all like our dram."

"The pressure of work has been making it worse," said Blair. "There's this rehab in Inverness which can take me for six weeks to get me cured. I would like to go there as soon as possible."

Daviot was touched. "Of course you can go. You are too valuable an officer to lose. You were quite right to come to me. A lot of famous people are alcoholics and take the cure," said the superintendent, naively convinced that there was a cure for alcoholism. "Keep in touch with us about how you are getting on. I was going to discuss our investigations into how Jimmy White got tipped off, but I think you need a break from it all." "I do, I do," said Blair fervently.

"And don't worry. Your whereabouts will be our secret." Blair thanked him fulsomely and left. He felt he had covered his tracks thoroughly. He had never discussed his snouts with anyone. He would suffer this damn rehab and keep his ear to the ground. One murmur that they had sussed him, and he would disappear.

Hamish began to fret about sleeping arrangements as he and Olivia travelled by police car driven by Kevin to Lochdubh. There was only one double bedroom. There was one cell with a bed in it, but he didn't much relish sleeping in it.

Kevin was silent and morose and, when they arrived at the police station, said curtly that he had better be getting straight back. He felt that he and Barry had been unfairly blamed for not keeping a close eye on Hamish and Olivia.

"Home at last," said Hamish with a sigh. He led her through to the bedroom. "This is all I've got," he said awkwardly. "I've got a bed in the cell I can use."

She smiled at him, a wonderful smile.

"It's all right, Hamish. I won't turn you out of your bed. We'll share it."

"Grand," said Hamish, who felt like whooping and cheering. He put his suitcase on the bed and opened it.

"Hamish, you've brought all those expensive clothes back with you!"

"Aye, well, I feel I deserve them."

"Thief!"

"No, chust taking advantage of a new wardrobe. I'll leave you to unpack. I thought we might have a bit of lunch and then call over on Parry McSporran."

"The crofter who keeps the chalets?"

"Yes. May as well get started."

Hamish went through to the kitchen. There was nothing to make a lunch.

"I forgot to do any shopping," he called. "When you're ready, I'll take you out for lunch."

Half an hour later they walked along to the Napoli restaurant, Hamish stopping every so often to introduce Olivia to the locals. "We'd best call on Archie Macleod sometime today and thank him properly," he said.

They went into the restaurant. Willie Lamont was waiting table. In the heady days when Hamish had been promoted to sergeant before being demoted, Willie had been his police constable but had fallen in love with a relative of the restaurant owner, had married her and had left the force.

Hamish made for the table at the window. Willie, who was a compulsive cleaner, rushed to wipe the table. "This will be that police officer you was kidnapped with."

"Yes, this is Chief Inspector Chater from Glasgow."

"So it isnae a romance, then?"

"Give us the menus, Willie, and push off."

Willie handed them the menus. "You have to watch out for Macbeth," he said to Olivia. "One christ after another."

Olivia blinked.

"He means crisis," said Hamish, who was used to translating Willie's malapropisms.

He looked at the menu. "The veal escalope's good."

"I'm a pasta junkie," said Olivia. "I'll have the linguine with the clam sauce."

"Do we want wine?"

"Better leave it until this evening," said Olivia. "We'll do some shopping and I'll cook dinner."

While they ate, Olivia went over and over again their ordeal on the boat. Hamish listened, knowing she had to talk it out. No victim support or therapy for us, he thought. We just need to help each other to get over it.

Then she asked him to tell her again all about the death of Tommy Jarret.

"The thing that still bothers me," said Hamish, "is why did he go to the Church of the Rising Sun? No drugs were found there. All the congregation seemed to talk about was sex. And yet he was searching from some sort of spiritual belief."

"Some sort of religious belief?" asked Olivia.

"Not exactly. You know what they say, religion's for those who believe in hell and a spiritual belief is for those who've been there. Maybe you could get that girl Felicity to talk a bit more."

The restaurant smells of good cooking were being replaced by a strong smell of disinfectant. "It's late. We're the only customers now," said Hamish, "and Willie is making sure there isn't one germ left behind."

"What's the time?"

"Three-thirty."

"Already! Let's do some shopping."

They left the restaurant and walked along to Patel's, the general store. Hamish paid from a wallet stuffed with notes.

"Hamish," said Olivia when they were outside, "surely that's still some of the money they gave you to flash around when you were supposed to be a drug baron. You were supposed to hand over what was left or at least account for it on your expenses."

"I'll think of something," said Hamish.

After they had put the groceries away, they drove to Glenanstey. "It's a grand day," said Hamish, "but it'll get dark quite soon now."

"I find this landscape quite intimidating," said Olivia, looking up at the towering mountains. "It must be a bleak place in the winter."

"We get some bad winters." Hamish sounded defensive. "But not as bad as they have further south. We're near the Gulf Stream up here. They even have palm trees down in Rossshire."

"Nonetheless, I would miss the lights of the city."

Hamish drove on in silence. He had a feeling that what that exchange had really meant was-Don't get any ideas, Hamish Macbeth. I am not going to live up here with you.

Parry's cottage was deserted. Hamish went up onto a rise and scanned the surroundings. No sign of Parry and his car was not outside the house.

"Let's see if the fair Felicity is at home," he said.

Felicity opened the door to them. "What now?" she asked.

"Just a chat," said Hamish.

"Who's she?"

Hamish pressed Olivia's arm warningly. "My girlfriend up from Glasgow."

"So what is it?"

"I wanted to ask you a few more questions about Tommy."

"I've told you all I know. My case comes up before the sheriff next week."

"Look, can we come in?"

"If you must."

She turned and walked through the kitchen and into the living room.

"I'm still interested in why Tommy went to that Church of the Rising Sun," said Hamish. "Tommy struck me as a bright boy and the people there were rubbish."

"He said something about finding cults fascinating."

"And that was all?"

"I s'pose." Felicity shrugged her thin shoulders. The sun was going down and despite the cold of the approaching evening and the cold in the chalet, Felicity was wearing a scanty top and a long floating skirt of Indian cotton. But there was a sprinkling of gooseflesh on her thin arms. Hamish wondered if her parents had cut off her allowance and that was why she had not turned on any heating. But Parry would surely supply her with peat for the fire and not charge for it and yet the fire was unlit. Probably one of those people who considered heat a decadent weakness.

"I would have liked to see Tommy's Bible," said Hamish.

"Why? Do you think there might be cryptic clues in Exodus, Sherlock?"

Hamish looked at her with irritation. That was exactly what he had been thinking, or that perhaps if Tommy had had any notes, they might be in the Bible. "I find it odd it hasn't been found." "Look, would you shove off? I haven't anything more to tell you."

"You might think of something," said Hamish. "Where's Parry?"

"How should I know?" Hamish gave up.

Outside, he said to Olivia, "We may as well try Parry later. There's a good tea shop down in the village." "I couldn't eat anything after that lunch." "We'll just have tea. Miss Black, who runs it, is very sharp. She might know something."

As they got into the police Land Rover and drove off, Hamish could see Felicity's pale face at the kitchen window, looking at them.

"This isn't a village. It's a hamlet," remarked Olivia as they drove into Glenanstey.

"And full of rude forefathers," said Hamish. Olivia surveyed the small huddle of houses. "Why would anyone want to live here?" she marvelled.

"Because it's beautiful," said Hamish testily. His little dream of himself and Olivia settling down at the Lochdubh police station was fading fast. "Well, Miss Black likes it and runs a good business. Here we are."

He parked outside the tea shop and they went in.

"You're latish," said Miss Black. "I was just thinking of closing up. But sit down. What can I get you?"

"Just tea," said Olivia.

When Miss Black bustled back with a fat pottery teapot, milk and sugar and cups, she smiled at Olivia and said, "The tea's real. No tea bags here."

"Won't you join us?" said Hamish. "This is Chief Inspector Chater from Glasgow. Although we are both officially on holiday, I'm still puzzled by poor Tommy Jarret's death."

"Yes, it is puzzling," said Miss Black, sitting down at their table. "He was so young, so confident, although always talking about seeking the meaning of life and that's apt to rob anyone of their sense of humour."

"Yes, there was talk of him being religious," said Hamish. "His Bible was never found and I wonder why. His parents would like it."

"Oh, the Bible," said Miss Black. "He left it here the day before he died."