Death of a Gentle Lady - M. C. Beaton [43]
It meant all the family had to be contacted again about the wire on the stairs, and all their alibis checked. Hours and days of police time and police money. ‘I’ve a good mind to sell that damn police station of his to recoup our losses,’ raged Daviot.
The fact that they might have arrested the wrong man hung over headquarters like a black cloud.
The next morning, Hamish was in his police station when Elspeth arrived. ‘I’ve been summoned back to Glasgow,’ she said. ‘Nothing to report until the court case.’
‘You’d best come in,’ said Hamish. ‘Some-thing’s come up.’
Elspeth listened eagerly. ‘This is grand, Hamish. What a story! Secret staircase and all.’
‘The trouble is,’ said Hamish, ‘that you’ll need to get the facts officially. I suggest you go up to the castle, where they’re still searching for clues. I’d better give a hint to Matthew Campbell. Is he at the Highland Times?’
‘No, he’s off to cover a dried-flower show at Bonar Bridge. Don’t worry. I’ll fill him in when I get back. Are you going to be all right? What if the murderer tries again?’
‘Don’t say anything in the paper about me suggesting I really knew something, or I’ll be plagued by time-wasting nutters,’ said Hamish.
‘I won’t.’
‘Now get out of here fast. I bet that Russian inspector will soon be here.’
* * *
And so it turned out. No sooner had Elspeth’s car disappeared along the waterfront than Anna was at the door.
‘We have to talk,’ she said.
‘You’re in plain clothes,’ said Hamish.
‘I was about to leave when your news broke.’ Anna was wearing a tailored grey suit over a white blouse. Her hair was tied at the back of her head with a thin black ribbon.
When she was seated at the kitchen table, she said, ‘If Mark Gentle did not murder Mrs Gentle or Irena, then it might have been you.’
‘How do you work that out?’ demanded Hamish.
‘You did not want to marry Irena, so you killed her. Mrs Gentle found out something that would incriminate you, and so you lured her out and pushed her over the cliff. You put the wire on the stair yourself so as to mislead the police.’
Hamish thought, illogically, I wish she didn’t look so much like Putin in drag.
‘I couldn’t have killed Irena because Jimmy Anderson was with me from the early morning until we left for Inverness. Now that you all have a suspect and thought the case closed, why should I try to open it? What gave you such a crazy idea?’
‘You are a man of great intelligence and yet you choose to remain in this isolated village and stay in the rank of an ordinary policeman. Only someone who is psychologically flawed would opt for that.’
‘What on earth is wrong with being contented and unambitious?’ said Hamish. ‘I enjoy my life here, I love this village – that is, when I am not beset by murderers and foreign police officers.’
‘You forget the respect that is due to my rank!’
‘It’s not every day I am accused of being a murderer,’ said Hamish mildly. ‘Coffee?’
‘Yes.’
When Hamish had served them both with coffee and shortbread, he said, ‘The facts are simply these. I put it about the night before last that Irena had told me something important. I knew the gossip would spread like wildfire over the Highlands. What puzzles me about the wire across the stairs is that it is not something I would expect a cold-blooded murderer to do.’
‘Why? Can’t you make decent coffee? This is dreadful.’
‘It’s special instant,’ said Hamish huffily. ‘Mr Patel said it was pure Kenyan. I think the wire across the stairs is something you see in television movies. I wonder if the members of the Gentle family have all left the area. No, I think the real murderer of Irena will find something more sophisticated to do to me.’
‘Aren’t you frightened?’ Anna took a silver flask out of her handbag and poured a shot of vodka into her coffee.
‘Yes.’
‘So why do it?’
‘Because somehow I do not believe that Mark Gentle is a murderer,’ said Hamish impatiently. ‘I would