Death of a Chimney Sweep - M. C. Beaton [36]
He finally located it with some difficulty because the offices were not actually in Leith Walk itself but in a tenement in a side street. There was a brass plaque on the wall with the name of the company. Hamish walked up the old stone stairs and located the offices on the second floor. He pushed open the door, went in, and blinked at the vision sitting behind the reception desk.
The receptionist was an exquisite blonde wearing a simple black dress and pearls. She had blue eyes in a smooth unlined face. She opened her mouth which was delicately painted pink and said, “Yeah, whit dae ye want?” in a guttural Glaswegian accent.
“I am Police Sergeant Hamish Macbeth. May I be having a wee word wi’ your boss?”
“Naw. He’s on holiday in the Maldives.”
“And who is standing in for him?”
“Naebody, copper. Push off.”
“You sound as if you’d had experience with the police,” said Hamish, “otherwise you wouldn’t be so damn rude.”
“I’m no’ paid to be nice. Take a hike.”
Hamish went to a café across Leith Walk where he could sit at the window and get a clear view of the entrance to the offices. The day wore on but no one appeared. Finally, he glanced at his watch and realised that if he did not hurry he would be late to meet Angela. He would need to return home and see if he could get Jimmy interested enough to investigate the background of Scots Entertainment.
As he started walking towards the Royal Mile, he had an uncanny feeling that he was being followed. He whipped around several times but could see no one sinister. He speeded up until he was running fast, threading his way agilely through the crowd. He dived into a doorway, fished out a small camera, and waited. Eventually, he saw a burly man hurrying past. Hamish ran after him, past him, swung around and took a photograph of him, and then ran on. The man pounded after him but was no match for Hamish’s speed, for Hamish had won many prizes as a hill runner. He lost the man in the closes off the Mile and then circled back to the parking place where Angela was already waiting for him.
“You’re all sweaty, Hamish,” said Angela.
“I was running late,” said Hamish, settling himself into the passenger seat. “I wish you’d get a bigger car, Angela. My knees are up to my chin.”
“Then get your own car.”
“How did you get on?”
As they drove off, Angela talked excitedly about her working lunch. Hamish only half listened. He would get that photograph developed and see if anything like him turned up in the mug shots in Strathbane.
Late that evening, Hamish sat in a pub in Strathbane, showed Jimmy the photograph he had printed off his digital camera at Patel’s, and told him about his day.
“And how am I going to explain your unauthorised visit to Edinburgh?” complained Jimmy.
“Anonymous letter?”
“Saying what exactly?”
“That Scots Entertainment is a front for prostitution.”
“And is it?”
“I have a hunch…”
“Oh, spare me your highland hunches,” groaned Jimmy. “All right, I’ll try it. When can you let me have it?”
“Now,” said Hamish. “I typed this on one of the old typewriters at the school. I want leave, Jimmy, and urgently. Could you say my aunt in Dornoch is ill?”
“Have you an aunt in Dornoch?”
“She died last year so that makes her as ill as you can get.”
“You’re going to Guildford,” said Jimmy accusingly.
“Well, chust let’s say, you don’t know that.”
Hamish took the long road to Guildford in Surrey early the next morning, after pleading with Willie Lamont again to look after his pets. He flew from Inverness to Gatwick, hired a car with a fleeting thought for his dwindling bank balance, checked his maps, and set out for Guildford. The four men lived in a builder’s estate called Surrey Loan on the outskirts of the town. The houses looked expensive but sterile and devoid of character, for despite their size, they were all remarkably alike.
The men would not tell him anything, but perhaps they were hopefully still out at work and their wives would say something.
He drew a blank at Ferdinand Castle’s home. No one was at home. Elspeth had told him that the wives had refused to