Death of a Sweep - M. C. Beaton [32]
Betty had been an orphan and a menopause baby. She had no brothers or sisters, and the only relation she had known had been her mother’s sister who died the year before of cancer. And because she had been suspended for a month, no one noticed she was missing.
Her body in the suitcase loaded down with stones eventually lay at the bottom of a quiet stretch of the Gareloch in Argyll after being tipped over the side of a rowing boat.
Back in Lochdubh, Hamish was relieved to find that the four men had left, so there was no fear of Milly being bullied further. But now he had the weight of worry that the murderer might be one of the locals. He diligently went all over the area where the captain might have walked, talking to crofters, and then to every house in Drim but without any success.
Just to be sure, he checked up on Edie Aubrey. On the day of the captain’s death, she had been seen with Ailsa. There was no indication that she had gone near the captain’s home.
He wondered, as spring eased into a glorious early summer and bell heather began to bloom on the flanks of the towering mountains, whether this would be a case he would ever solve. He itched to go down to Guildford. He had holiday owing but felt reluctant to use up his dwindling bank balance on what could be a wild goose chase prompted by his desire to find a murderer outside of his beloved Sutherland.
One fine morning, he wandered out on to the waterfront and leaned on the wall overlooking the loch. The air was clean and fresh, scented with pine from the forest across the loch and with the more homely smells of frying bacon and baking scones. Angela Brodie came hurrying to join him.
‘Hamish, I’ve just been correcting the proofs of my new book.’
‘So that Edinburgh publisher’s turned out all right?’
‘Oh, he’s great. I’m going down to Edinburgh to have lunch with him tomorrow. How’s the case going?’
‘I cannae get anywhere, Angela, and that iss a fact,’ said Hamish, the strengthening of his accent showing that he was upset. ‘I fear it’s going to turn out to be one of the locals. You weren’t the only one.’
‘Who …?’
‘I cannae be saying. I feel like taking time off and going down to Guildford but I’m a bittie stretched at the bank.’
‘Milly gave me back that money, so I could give you some.’
‘No, I couldn’t be taking it. I want to be able to enjoy a grand day like this without the shadow of those damn murders hanging over the place. Who else goes for long walks?’
‘Not many of us. You know what it’s like in the country. Some of them at the end of the waterfront even drive their cars along to Patel’s. Oh, I know. I’ve thought of someone. Do you remember Effie Garrard?’
‘Of course. The one that was murdered and pretended to be an artist when it turned out to be her sister’s work.’
‘Well, the sister, Caro, spent some of the winter down in Brighton but she’s back. She’s had that awful corrugated iron roof taken off and a good slate one put on instead. I heard she likes to go for long walks.’
‘I’ll try her.’ Hamish sighed. ‘I’m at a dead end anyway. Tell me, Angela, I never asked. You’re no fool. What was there about the captain that made you believe him?’
‘I suppose he had the professional fraudster’s gift of finding out people’s dreams and playing on them. I felt hurt, rejected by my old publisher. He was so easy to talk to. I hear how he treated his poor wife like dirt but he made you feel you were the most important person in the world.’
Hamish was once more amazed that Caro Garrard had decided to keep the cottage in the Highlands which had once belonged to her murdered sister.* The new slate roof gleamed in the sunlight, and the walls had been newly whitewashed.
The door was standing open. ‘Anyone home?’ he called.
Caro came to the door. She was a small housewifey-looking woman. No one could have guessed by just looking at her that her exquisite pottery sold for large sums, as did her small paintings of birds and flowers.
‘Oh, it’s you,’ she said. ‘What do you want?’
‘A wee chat.’
Caro suddenly grinned. ‘How nice to be in the Highlands where a