Death of a Gentle Lady - M. C. Beaton [48]
Hamish carefully lifted the lid of the stove. He had left, as usual, sticks and kindling and firelighter. What he usually did was just toss a match in and replace the lid.
He bent down and sniffed. There was a smell of diesel. He backed off and whistled to his pets. ‘Going for a walk,’ he said, ‘and fast.’
He hurried along to the Italian restaurant, where Willie was wiping the tables for the night. Hamish rapped on the door. ‘We’re closed,’ said Willie.
‘It’s urgent,’ said Hamish. ‘I need to phone headquarters. There’s a bomb in the police station.’
‘Come in,’ said Willie. ‘Michty me!’
Hamish took out his mobile phone. ‘Willie, start evacuating the houses around the police station. Do it quick.’
Willie ran off. Hamish got a sleepy Jimmy on his mobile number.
‘Jimmy, get the bomb squad. I think some-one’s put a fertilizer bomb in the stove in my kitchen. I’m in the Italian restaurant. Willie Lamont’s gone to evacuate the houses nearby. I’m off to help him.’
‘Be with you fast,’ said Jimmy and rang off.
The night was frosty so Willie ushered several families into the restaurant. Mrs Wellington, who had been telephoned for help, had taken the rest of those considered to be in the danger area up to the manse.
Hamish fretted and waited, only relaxing when he heard the sound of the sirens coming over the hills towards Lochdubh.
He walked along to the police station to meet Jimmy, who was standing there with an army bomb disposal unit.
‘Tell the sergeant here about it,’ said Jimmy.
Hamish described the footprint on the sooty floor and the smell of diesel.
‘Any wires?’ asked the sergeant.
‘No. I looked.’
Two of his men went inside the police station. Hamish turned to Jimmy. ‘It was the same size as the footprint we saw in the castle.’
‘Damn and blast it!’ said Jimmy. ‘If this murderer thinks you know something, doesn’t he think it odd you’d keep it to yourself?’
‘He may think Irena told me something that I haven’t yet figured out,’ said Hamish.
The men came out, carrying something in a plastic forensic bag.
‘Here it is,’ said one. ‘A fertilizer bomb. Nice little homemade thing. All you need is newspaper, chemical fertilizer, cotton, diesel, and you’ve got your bomb. Someone put the fertilizer wrapped in newspaper at the bottom of your stove, then put cotton soaked with diesel on the top. If you’d lit your stove, it would have blown apart five hundred square metres – which would have dealt with you and your police station.’
‘Hamish,’ said Jimmy, ‘maybe we’re being sidetracked by the whole Gentle family. You don’t think there might be some Russian connection?’
‘No, I don’t. They would have caught up with her before this.’
‘Maybe not. Who’d think of looking for her in the north of Scotland?’
‘We should be looking for someone fairly tall and slim with size seven feet,’ said Hamish. ‘Might be a good idea to check Kylie Gentle’s alibi.’
People were returning to their houses. The forensic team arrived and went into the kitchen.
‘I’m going to go up to the hotel and see if I can mooch a room,’ said Hamish. ‘Oh, there’s another thing, Jimmy. I was coming back over the Struie Pass when I ran out of petrol. Now, I filled the tank up just before I got to Inverness. Say someone followed me down and drained most of the tank to immobilize me so that they could race back to the station and plant the bomb?’
‘Might get something on CCTV,’ said Jimmy. ‘Where were you parked?’
‘Away down on a side street off the Ness Bank.’
‘It’s a pity you were too cheap to pay for proper parking. You’d best leave the Land Rover and let the forensic boys look over it.’
‘Could one of your lads give me a lift to the hotel?’
‘Aileen will do that. Wait a minute.’
Jimmy went off and came back with a policewoman. ‘This is Aileen Drummond.’
Aileen was small and chubby with a cheeky face. When he got into the police car, Hamish said awkwardly, ‘I wonder whether you might stop at that Italian restaurant on the waterfront to pick up my dog and cat?’
‘No trouble,