Death of a Gentle Lady - M. C. Beaton [4]
He went and opened the kitchen door. Round the side of the police station came a tall figure he recognized as Mrs Gentle’s maid.
When he ushered her into the kitchen, he noticed her eyes were red with crying.
‘Sit down,’ he said. ‘What’s the matter, lassie?’
‘I have come to be arrested.’
‘I’m just about to eat, and there’s enough for two,’ said Hamish.
‘I can’t eat.’
‘Oh, you’ll feel better.’ He got another plate and put a generous helping on it for her. ‘Now eat and tell me about it.’
Ayesha picked at her food as she told him that she was in the country illegally and had lost her job.
‘I can’t be bothered arresting anyone at the moment,’ said Hamish.
She really was very beautiful, he thought. She was nearly as tall as he was himself, with a splendid figure in hip-hugging jeans, a T-shirt, and a denim jacket. Her hair looked a natural gold, she had high cheekbones and a perfect mouth.
‘What is your name?’ he asked.
‘Ayesha Tahir. Turkish.’
‘I didn’t know there were blonde Turks.’
‘Some are.’ She took a mouthful of food. ‘This is nice. You are not like a policeman.’
‘I’m not going to be one much longer, thanks to Mrs Gentle putting the poison in.’
‘The poison?’
‘She managed to persuade my bosses that my services were not needed in Lochdubh.’
‘Can’t you stop her?’
‘I can’t stop anything now. I’m going to resign.’
Hamish clasped his hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling. ‘Why should I arrest you?’ he asked.
‘Like I said, Mrs Gentle has found out that my visa has expired. She says I can stay until after her family party and then I’ve got to leave.’
‘Have you got your passport with you?’
‘Yes, in my bag.’ She fished it out and handed it to him.
Hamish flicked through the passport, studied the visa, and then said, ‘Would you like to leave this with me? I might be able to do something.’
Hope shone in her blue eyes. ‘Do you think it possible?’
‘Maybe. But you’re not to talk to anyone at all about it. I see you’re twenty-five years old. That’s not young for a student.’
‘My father wanted me to marry a local businessman. I stalled. I said I would if I could get an education first. I studied English at Istanbul University. When I got my degree, I applied for permit to further my studies at London University and received three years to gain a PhD. When I got my degree, I applied for a work permit but was refused. I started to work as a maid in a hotel. It was the only work I could get. Then Mrs Gentle stayed at the hotel. I was cleaning her room. She offered me work. She seemed so kind. It was a great mistake.’
‘Finish your meal and come back here as soon as the family party is over. I might have something for you then.’
* * *
Peter Brimley, a small wizened man, opened his door in a side street of Inverness the following day and scowled up at the tall figure of Hamish Macbeth.
‘Whit now?’ he snarled. ‘I’ve done my time and I’m going straight.’
‘I’d like to come in. I’m here to offer you money for some of your skills.’
‘This is a frame-up?’
‘Don’t be daft. I won’t want to get found out even more than you would. Let me in.’
Hamish walked into Peter’s small living room. There was a large desk by the window with a powerful lamp over it. Peter rushed forward and swept a pile of papers into a drawer.
‘Going straight, my arse,’ said Hamish cheerfully. ‘But I am about to join the world of criminals. I want you to forge a passport for me. Well, not forge a passport, chust a visa.’
Peter stared at the floor in mulish silence.
‘Come on, man,’ said Hamish. ‘It’s a simple job for a genius like you. I didn’t put you away. Inverness police did that.’
Peter shrugged in resignation. ‘Let me see the passport.’
Hamish handed it over. Peter went to his desk and sat down. Hamish waited impatiently. At last, he demanded, ‘Well?’
‘Aye. I could alter it to give her another three years. But that’s all.’
‘Grand. How soon?’
‘Gie me a week. Right. Now to the money.’
Hamish blinked at the price but was in