Death of a Valentine - M. C. Beaton [37]
The mad idea fuelled by more whisky began to seem perfectly feasible.
Hamish was awakened two mornings later by the ringing of the telephone. He struggled out of bed, glancing at the clock in alarm, realising he had slept in, and rushed to answer it. It was Jimmy. “Och, man,” he said. “You’ll never believe what’s happened.”
“What?”
“Roger Burton’s escaped, but before he did he got into Barry’s cell and killed him.”
“How the hell did that happen?”
“Roger knocked out the copper who took him his breakfast. He dressed himself in the copper’s clothes, put his own clothes on the policeman, and put the policeman in the bed in the cell wi’ a blanket over him. He took his keys and found Barry’s cell. He stabbed him to death.”
“What with?”
“A sharpened toothbrush.”
“What on earth was left in his cell to sharpen the damn thing?”
“Didn’t need a knife. There’s rough concrete on that ledge by the window. He just rubbed it and rubbed it down to a point.”
“So you’d arrested Barry?”
“Aye, I forgot to tell you. We’d raided thon disco yesterday and found the stash o’ drugs. Oh, God, we’re all in deep crap here, right up to our oxters. Daviot is screaming blue murder and says if Blair had been around it wouldnae have happened. I tried to say that maybe we’d got Barry because Blair wasn’t around and Daviot says I cannot defend myself by libelling a good officer.”
“Any clue as to where Roger Burton is?”
“By the time they found out the fellow in the bed wasn’t Roger, he’d long gone.”
“What about the barman at the disco? He must know something.”
“It gets worse. He was bailed and now he’s disappeared as well. You’re on your own wi’ that valentine case. Getting anywhere?”
“Not so far. I’ve interviewed all my suspects again.”
“Keep at it. Daviot’s rampaging around. The duty officer’s been suspended, poor bastard, although it had nothing to do with him. We’ve got the press baying outside for blood and Daviot baying inside.”
When Hamish rang off, he thought that Blair must be thrilled to bits. If there was a connection to Barry, it would be hard to find it now.
There was a knock at the kitchen door. He opened it. Josie stood there, smiling up at him.
“I’m late,” said Hamish. “I was interviewing people until late last night.”
“You should have let me help you, sir,” said Josie.
“Get the coffee on and I’ll be ready in a minute.”
When Hamish finally appeared, dressed and shaved, Josie said, “It’s kind of you to offer to take me to the dance tomorrow.”
“I didn’t offer,” said Hamish, helping himself to coffee. “I was bullied into it.”
He waited for Josie to say something like, Oh, well, in that case, I’ll go myself, but she merely hung her head and looked miserable.
Hamish was suddenly sorry for her. “Don’t worry, Josie,” he said. “We’ll probably have a good time.”
He’d called her Josie! All Josie’s dreams flooded into her brain. But she said, “Where are we going today?”
“I want to try to get Jocasta on her own. If I’m right, she’s fed up with the marriage and might talk a bit freely if we can get her without her husband around.”
The first thing they saw as they drove up to the wildlife park was a large FOR SALE sign. “Now, that is very interesting,” said Hamish. “The marriage must be breaking up. Bill would never have let her sell.”
He drove down the muddy slope to the office.
Jocasta was found poring over accounts books. “Oh, it’s you,” she said curtly. “Find a chair. I’ll be with you in a minute.”
They sat waiting patiently while Jocasta turned pages, muttering, “Bastard!” and “Unbelievable.”
At last she sat back in her chair and said, “What?”
“Where is your husband?” asked Hamish.
“I neither know nor care. I’m filing for divorce. Bill ripping me off is one thing, but Annie Fleming was raiding the petty cash.”
“You’re sure of that?”
“Quite sure.”
“And you really don’t know where your husband is?” said Josie.
“No. We had a row. I said I was filing for divorce and he took off after I said I was selling the place. This folly is fortunately in my name. I told him I was going to sell the place to a builder.