Death of a Chimney Sweep - M. C. Beaton [45]
Hamish let him in and slammed the door in the faces of the press.
“You look like shit,” he said cheerfully, “but things are moving. Edinburgh police said the offices of Scots Entertainment were closed down. The man you took a photo of had been identified as Nick Duke, a villain who now seems to have disappeared. They raided the offices of Scots Entertainment and found it was a front for a brothel, but no girls were to be found and the safe was empty. That chap John Dean, who lived under where yon prostitute was killed, has vanished as well.”
“Not much farther forward,” said Hamish gloomily.
“It showed you were right. It all ties together. So what the hell have you been up to?”
“Nothing. Angela’s a dear friend. I could wring her neck for landing me in this mess.”
“Cheer up. There’s good news.”
“I could do with some.”
“Angela Brodie woke up in the Raigmore Hospital in Inverness and who does she find sitting by her bed but Blair.”
“What?”
“He says she should get her revenge on you for leading her astray and wets his fat lips and asks for all the juicy details. Now, Angela’s got a wee tape recorder in her handbag and switches it on. She’d been taping the awards ceremony. ‘Explain yourself,’ she says.
“He says that everyone now knows that Macbeth had been getting into her knickers, and then his remarks got even cruder and dirtier. So when she thinks she’s got enough, she presses the buzzer and orders him out. Then she phones Daviot and plays the tape. Daviot hits the roof and suspends Blair.”
“Where’s Angela now?”
“She checked out and she’s back home.”
Hamish’s answering machine sounded again. Elspeth’s voice: “Hamish, I’m up in the fields at the back. If you open the kitchen window, I can get in that way. I know I can get you out of this.”
“Daviot says you’re not to speak to the press,” said Jimmy.
“Oh, she won’t do anything I don’t want.” Hamish opened the kitchen window.
After five minutes, Elspeth climbed in. She looked more like the Elspeth Hamish once knew rather than the sophisticated television presenter she had become. The day was damp and drizzly, and her hair was once more frizzy. She was wearing an anorak over a sweater and cords.
“So what’s the latest?” she asked breathlessly. “I’ve just been sent back up here.”
“I have to stay locked in here and not speak to the press,” said Hamish.
“That’ll make things worse. I’m supposed to get you, Angela, and Dr. Brodie together to make a statement and scotch this scandal. The public have only got to see Angela and her husband together with you to show everyone it’s all a load of rubbish.”
“Daviot’ll go mad,” said Hamish.
“I’ll fix him. I’ll just use your office.” She went into the police station office and slammed the door.
“Whisky?” demanded Jimmy.
“Aye, I could do with a dram.” Hamish lifted down the bottle and put three glasses on the table.
He was just pouring when Elspeth reappeared looking triumphant. “It’s all fixed.”
“How did you manage it?”
“Daviot is to appear with you. He loves the idea of being on television. He said he would be glad to let the matter be settled. He will give Angela all the help she needs provided she doesn’t sue them for Blair’s behaviour.”
“So where’s the filming to take place?”
“The Tommel Castle Hotel.”
“And how do you get me and the Brodies up there without the other press crowding in?”
“Daviot is sending a police car to take the Brodies to a private room at the hotel. I’ll have my crew already in there and set up. The press will follow, but they’ll be locked out.”
“Then they’ll all write spoiling stories.”
“Daviot’s bringing lawyers to have a word with them all afterwards. They’ll need to be careful.”
“So how do we get there?”
“Out the window, Hamish. I’ve got a four-wheel drive parked up in the fields. Also, you wanted press pressure on the police to solve the murders. Here’s your chance.”
Elspeth was glad she had brought a make-up artist with her because Angela looked a wreck. Her flyaway hair was