Death of a Gentle Lady - M. C. Beaton [49]
But she flinched as Sonsie and Lugs were ushered into the backseat. ‘No,’ said Hamish, before she could speak, ‘it’s not a wild cat.’
‘Looks fair savage to me,’ said Aileen.
‘Are you from Glasgow?’
‘Yes. Recognize the accent did you?’
‘It’s not as thick as Blair’s, but yes. What’s brought you up here?’
‘I wanted to work in the Highlands but I landed in Strathbane, which is a sort o’ Glasgow in miniature but without the culture, without the restaurants, and without the posh shops. One great heaving underclass o’ criminals. You all right? Must be a hell o’ a shock finding a bomb in your kitchen.’
‘I’m fine.’
‘Here’s the hotel. Want to go in and get blootered? I could say you were in shock and needed tender loving care.’
‘I don’t want to get drunk, and you’re driving.’
‘Suit yourself.’
‘Tell you what,’ said Hamish, ‘I’ll stand you one drink.’
‘You’re on.’
When Hamish went into the bar, he found Priscilla with Patrick and Harold Jury, sitting at a corner table and enjoying after-dinner coffees and brandies.
Priscilla rose and came to join him. ‘I heard about the bomb,’ she said. ‘How are you?’
‘Not bad, but I need a room for the night.’
Priscilla smiled. ‘Meaning a free room. I’ll get you one.’
Hamish introduced Aileen. When Priscilla went off to find a room for him, Hamish asked Aileen what she would like to drink. To his relief she ordered whisky and water. The few young women he had entertained often asked for peculiar mixtures or cocktails he had never heard of.
Elspeth struggled awake later that night. Her phone was ringing. It was the night desk. ‘You’re to get back up to the Highlands, fast,’ said the night news editor. ‘That policeman was nearly blown up tonight. Someone put a bomb in his station.’
‘Hamish, is he all right?’
‘Yes, he escaped. They haven’t found anyone for those murders yet. They’ve had to let that Mark Gentle go. And stop taking your own photographs or there’ll be trouble with the union. I know you claimed they were taken by some highland fellow called Sean McSween, but no one’s ever heard of him and the picture editor’s swearing you made him up. So stop by the office and pick up Billy Southey.’
Elspeth scrambled out of bed and began to dress. Billy was a new photographer. She hadn’t been out on a story with him yet. She hoped he wasn’t a drunk.
Hamish had managed to get rid of Aileen after one drink by promising to take her out for dinner. He had fallen asleep almost immediately only to be awakened an hour later by the phone ringing loudly beside his bed.
It was Jimmy. ‘Daviot’s in a fair taking,’ he said. ‘He wants you hidden away. He says the attempt on your life could have killed some villagers as well. You’re to pack your suitcase and come to headquarters tomorrow. I’ll get you an unmarked car, and you can drive it to wherever they’ve decided to hide you.’
‘I should stick around. The only way we might catch this female is if there’s another attempt,’ protested Hamish.
‘Sorry, laddie. Orders are orders.’
Hamish realized after he had hung up that his pets must have been out of the police station when that bomb was planted or they would have attacked the intruder and might have been killed. Perhaps it would be better to go into hiding.
The next day, Detective Chief Inspector Blair arrived at police headquarters. He had checked himself out of rehab two days before. They had protested and told him they would send a report to Superintendent Daviot.
He made his way up to Daviot’s office. Secretary Helen smiled at him. She liked Blair, who occasionally bought her flowers and chocolates.
‘We didn’t expect to see you for a while,’ said Helen.
‘I’m all right now.’
‘I’m afraid Mr Daviot is busy.’
‘I’ll wait,’ said Blair. ‘Any chance of a coffee?’
‘Of course.’
Helen rose and went into the small kitchen next to her desk. The morning post was lying in a basket on her desk.
Keeping an eye on the kitchen, Blair riffled through it until he found an envelope with the name of the rehab on the front. He tucked it inside his jacket and retreated as Helen returned