Death of a Gentle Lady - M. C. Beaton [8]
‘Where is she from?’ asked Daviot.
‘She said she was from Izmir in Turkey, and that her father wanted her to marry a local businessman so she ran away. The family name is Tahir.’
‘Do you have a photograph of her?’
‘I do.’ Hamish took out his wallet and extracted a photograph. He had taken it outside the police station before he had tried to tell Ayesha that the wedding was off. It showed a laughing Ayesha, tall and beautiful.
‘We’ll get this wired over to the police in Izmir. I’m very sorry for you, Hamish,’ said Daviot. ‘Come along now. We’d best leave Mrs Gentle in peace.’
Back at the police station, Hamish found Angela Brodie, local author as well as doctor’s wife, waiting for him with his pets. She had promised to look after them while he was in Inverness and then to shut them up in the police station while she went to the reception. But word of the cancelled wedding had spread like fire in the heather, and so she had decided to keep the animals with her until he might return.
‘Gamekeeper Jamie phoned me and said he had seen your car heading towards Lochdubh, so here I am to see if I can say or do anything to help you.’
‘Nothing at all, Angela. Come ben and have a drink with me.’
After he poured whisky for himself and Angela, he said, ‘It’s odd. For some reason, Mrs Gentle gave her a present of ten thousand pounds, and yet not so long ago Mrs Gentle had told the girl she was fired. She’s left the money in one of her suitcases along with her clothes.’
‘May I have a look? Maybe in your distress you missed something.’
‘Go ahead. Her cases are in the bedroom.’
He sipped his whisky, calling himself all kinds of fool, aware the whole time of that passport lurking at the bottom of the stove.
Angela came back in. ‘It’s very odd, Hamish. Didn’t you notice her clothes?’
‘Not particularly.’
‘They are very, very expensive. For example, there are a couple of Versace dresses and an Armani jacket.’
‘Maybe her family are wealthy. I’ve a bad feeling about this. Why didn’t she take her clothes? Why did Mrs Gentle who wanted to fire her suddenly decide to give her a wedding reception and pay her ten thousand pounds?’
‘I don’t believe she’s gone,’ said Angela. ‘No woman would leave behind clothes like that, not to mention ten thousand pounds. She’ll turn up.’
‘I hope to God I never see her again,’ said Hamish bitterly.
‘Poor Hamish, you have no luck with women. It’s cold in here. I’ll light the stove for you.’
‘No!’ yelled Hamish.
Angela, who had half risen to her feet, looked at him in surprise. ‘I’m sorry,’ said Hamish quickly. ‘It’s been a bad day.’
‘I’ll leave you. Don’t get plastered. You’ll only wake up in the morning with a hangover.’
Hamish awoke the next morning with a feeling of bleak emptiness. Never before in his life had he felt such a fool. If there was anything sinister about the disappearance of Ayesha, then he had compromised the investigation by lying about her and hiding that passport. But if the police ever got their hands on that passport and sent it away from the incompetent forensic department at Strathbane to Glasgow, say, some eagle-eyed boffin might recognize Peter’s handiwork. He had been allowed two weeks’ holiday for his honeymoon. Because of Ayesha turning out to be such a blackmailer, he had cancelled any idea of it.
Blackmailer!
Had the girl found out something about Mrs Gentle and been blackmailing her?
Hamish decided to get out of Lochdubh for the day, away from sympathetic callers. He loaded up the Land Rover with his fishing tackle along with his dog and cat and set off for the River Anstey. He didn’t have a fishing permit but knew that the water bailiff was lazy; he was sure he wouldn’t be discovered.
He returned in the evening with eight trout to find Jimmy Anderson pacing up and down outside the police station.
‘Where have you been?’ howled Jimmy.’
In the kitchen, Jimmy explained what had happened. Mr Tahir had been located in Turkey, and yes, he had a daughter called Ayesha. But his Ayesha was married and living right there in Izmir. And she wasn’t