Death of a Valentine - M. C. Beaton [42]
Hamish laid a hand on his shoulder and said quietly, “I need to be having another word with you, Minister. It’s about that private religious instruction you were giving Annie.”
Mr. Tallent raised his head. “I tried to protect Annie from this sinful world but she must have been corrupted by that creature Jake.”
“I think Annie was quite good at corrupting people herself. Did she come on to you?” asked Hamish.
“What a disgusting suggestion!” raged the minister.
Hamish sat down beside him in the pew. “Look here,” he said gently, “Annie was verra manipulative and she liked power. I think she made you fall in love with her. I think your conscience got the better o’ ye and you stopped the lessons.”
“She confessed to an admiration for me,” said Mr. Tallent after a long silence. “I was sinfully flattered. I became impatient with my wife. I nearly lost my faith. Yes, I stopped the classes and said I would only see her in the kirk. She shrugged. Then she laughed at me and called me a silly old goat.” Tears began to run unchecked down his cheeks. “I went a bit mad. I even thought of killing her. But I didn’t. Believe me, Sergeant, I wouldn’t know how to begin to make a letter bomb.
“Does any of this have to come out? It would devastate my wife and daughter. And the scandal!”
“Chust so long as I don’t find any proof linking you with the murder, I’ll keep quiet,” said Hamish, feeling embarrassed faced with the man’s grief and shame.
When he got out of the Land Rover in front of the police station, he found Willie Lamont waiting for him with the dog and cat at his heels. Willie had once been a policeman, working for Hamish, but he had fallen in love and married the beautiful daughter of the owner of the Italian restaurant and had gone happily into the catering trade.
“What’s up, Willie?” asked Hamish.
“Sonsie and Lugs were around the restaurant and I thought it was time to bring them hame.”
“You know where the key is, Willie. You shouldnae be standing here in the cold.”
“I don’t know where the key is. I tried the door but it’s locked. There’s someone inside moving about and that big cat flap is jammed shut.”
Hamish took out his own key and snapped open his baton. “Stand back, Willie,” he said quietly.
He quietly unlocked the door. Josie was standing over the stove, wearing a frilly apron over a short black dress and high heels.
“What in God’s name do you think you’re playing at, McSween?” roared Hamish. He swung round and looked down at the cat flap. It had been taped shut. “And why are my poor beasties out in the cold?”
“I-I th-thought it would be great to take you a meal and give the place a bit of a clean,” wailed Josie.
“Out!” shouted Hamish. “Get the hell oot o’ here and neffer, effer do anything like this again. Shoo! Get lost.”
Josie burst into tears. She seized her coat from a chair and ran out into the night.
“Wimmin,” said Hamish, taking out a clasp knife and beginning to slice the tape on the cat flap.
“Och, you was awfy hard,” said Willie. “The lassie meant well. Look how clean the place is.”
“It’s my home,” said Hamish. “Thanks for looking after my beasts, Willie.”
Willie left but Hamish was not to be left in peace for long. A wrathful Mrs. Wellington descended on him. “That poor girl is crying her eyes out, you brute. Instead of thanking her, all you did was shout at her.”
“She had no right to just invade my home—”
“It’s not a home. It’s a police station.”
“It iss my home. She shut my animals out in the cold.”
“What you need is a decent woman in your life. You will take Josie to that dance tomorrow and behave like a gentleman.”
Hamish refused to go to the manse with Mrs. Wellington and apologise. To Mrs. Wellington, Josie was the daughter she never had. She could not bear to see her so upset and so she lied and said that Hamish was really sorry and was looking forward to the dance.
When Josie went up to her room that night, she fished a bottle of whisky out from under her mattress and began to drink steadily. She had loved being in charge of the police station. She wanted to get married