Death of a Gentle Lady - M. C. Beaton [7]
‘I don’t have her number.’
‘I’ll get it from directory enquiries,’ said Jimmy. He moved off.
After five minutes, he came back. ‘I’m right sorry, Hamish. Mrs Gentle says she can’t find her. She said she went out for a walk very early and never came back.’
Blair’s face loomed up, a fat grin on it. ‘She’s stood you up,’ he said.
Somewhere inside Hamish was the beginning of a little warm glow of relief.
* * *
Mrs Gentle’s home was crammed with villagers. She had tried to turn them away, but they had retaliated by saying it was a shame to let good food and drink go to waste and simply walked in. Not only that, but they had found the wedding presents laid out for display in the morning room and begun to take them back.
A band had turned up and had begun to play, and the house echoed to the sound of accordion, fiddle, and drums.
Hamish returned to the police station after having assured his family that he would be all right. There was an hysterical message on the answering machine from Mrs Gentle, demanding that he come to her house immediately and tell everyone to go home. He had told Jimmy to go to the reception, adding that he would be along as soon as he could.
When Jimmy had left, he went into the bedroom and flung the first of Ayesha’s suitcases on to the bed. It was not locked. He opened it and rummaged around. Then he opened the other one. In the flap at the back of the suitcase, he found a wallet. It contained ten thousand pounds in crisp notes and Ayesha’s passport. He put the money back in the wallet and took the passport with him into the kitchen. He took the lid off his unlit wood-burning stove and dropped it in. It could stay there, he thought grimly, until he found out where she had gone. Then he set out for the castle.
He was not surprised to find that Jimmy had joined the revellers and was standing, grinning, and holding a large glass of whisky. There was a silence as Hamish walked in.
‘Please leave,’ he said. ‘This is a sad day for me, and you should not be celebrating.’
They slowly left, clutching wedding presents.
When the last one had gone, including Jimmy, Hamish said to Mrs Gentle, ‘We need to have a talk before I contact police headquarters.’
‘What about?’ Mrs Gentle’s usually dulcet tones were now harsh. ‘She’s run away rather than marry you. Accept it.’
‘It’s not as easy as that,’ said Hamish heavily. ‘I had a quick look through the suitcases she left with me. I found a wallet with ten thousand pounds in it.’
‘Oh, goody. That’s mine and I want it back. I gave it to her as a wedding present.’
‘Very generous.’
‘I have been too damn generous. Look at my home! Food trodden into the carpets.’
‘I do not think she would have run away and left all her things, along with the money,’ said Hamish. ‘I am afraid I will need to keep your money until the enquiry is over.’
‘What enquiry?’ she screeched. ‘You stupid man. She ran away from you, that’s all.’
‘When did you last see her?’
‘This morning, early. She said she wanted to go for a walk before changing her clothes and leaving for Inverness. She never returned.’
‘Did your daughter see her?’
‘Sarah has gone off to London. I am here alone.’
There was a ring at the doorbell. ‘I’d better get rid of whoever that is,’ said Mrs Gentle. ‘Probably one of those villagers come to take their wedding present back. I’ve never seen such a load of rubbish. Six crystal butter dishes!’
She went out into the hall to answer the door. When she returned, she was followed by Superintendent Daviot and Detective Chief Inspector Blair.
‘Hamish,’ said Daviot, ‘this is a sorry business. It’s hardly a police matter, but if you like, we’ll check the ports and airports for you.’
‘I’m afraid it is a police matter,’ said Hamish. ‘She’s left all her belongings at the police station along with ten thousand pounds, given to her by Mrs Gentle.’
‘And her passport?’
‘I’ll have another look. But I couldn’t find it,’ lied Hamish. He was worried that if that visa was subjected to police scrutiny, the forgery might be discovered and Peter might