Death of a Valentine - M. C. Beaton [76]
“How was he to know, sir?” he asked. “A good copper goes by the evidence, and Josie had all the evidence.”
“Dr. Cameron has been arrested,” said Daviot. “He won’t weasel out of this charge the way he did the last one.”
“How did Josie get the Rohypnol?” wondered Hamish. “Maybe she got it out of the evidence room. There was a case last year where it was used.”
“The press are all gathered outside,” said Daviot. “You’ll need to speak to them or we’ll never get rid of them.”
“Could you do that?” asked Hamish. “You’re awfy good wi’ the press.”
“I will do that now,” said Daviot, who adored getting any sort of publicity. “We’ll put it out that you are still weak after that shooting. Where were you supposed to be going on honeymoon?”
“Corsica. Tomorrow morning. For a week.”
“Then I suggest you take yourself off there while we sort things out here and return in time for the board of enquiry.”
Daviot left the kitchen and soon his voice could be heard outside, making a statement.
“Where’s Elspeth?” asked Hamish. “I owe her a lot.”
“She’s up at the hotel.”
“Tell Daviot I’ve gone for a walk to clear my head.”
Hamish slid out of the kitchen door followed by Lugs and Sonsie and started the long walk by way of the fields at the back to the Tommel Castle Hotel.
He was directed to Elspeth’s room and knocked at the door. When she opened it, he said, “How can I ever thank you!”
“Come in, Hamish, and bring the beasties with you.”
Hamish sat down wearily. “Thon was one great piece o’ detective work, Elspeth.”
“You need to thank Angela as well. She was worried about you. I guessed because she told me you’d gone to Dr. Brodie for blood and urine tests that you were sure you’d been drugged. Then there’s Josie. Angela was sure you didn’t care anything for her. I just wanted to make sure.”
“You’d make a better seer than auld Angus any day. He didn’t suspect a thing. Look, Elspeth, this is short notice but I’ve got plane tickets to Corsica and the hotel is booked—single rooms, mind. I’ve been told to take a break. Why don’t you come with me?”
“Maybe I could. I’ve been told to take some leave.”
“I’ll get Josie’s air ticket changed to your name. It’ll be great to get away. The press’ll be hounding me for a week. We’ll need to be at the Inverness airport at six in the morning.”
Elspeth was suddenly very happy. “We can make it.”
“Right. I’ll just use your phone and see to that ticket.”
Josie and her mother were sitting gloomily in a hotel outside Perth. As the limousine had turned into their street, Flora saw press ranged outside their house and told the driver to reverse quickly. She had left Josie in the hotel and had gone back to pack up clothes for them to wear, not wanting to return to Lochdubh. The press followed her when she left after loading two suitcases into the limo. “Can you lose them?” she asked the driver frantically.
“Sure,” he said. By shooting two red lights in Perth, racing up the A-9 at one hundred miles an hour, and then swerving off the road and up a farm track, he was able to hide out until the pursuers roared past.
Flora had been left very comfortably off but she felt bitterly that Josie’s caper was costing her a fortune as she paid off the driver and tipped him handsomely. Then there were gratuities paid to the staff of the hotel so that they would deny ever having seen them.
“It’s all Hamish’s fault,” said Josie. “I’d have made him a good wife.”
“You’re mad!” said her mother, and Josie burst into tears.
The police called for her two days later and told her a police car was waiting for her downstairs to take her to Strathbane. The hotel staff were willing to lie to the press but not to the police. Flora wanted to go with her but was told firmly to stay behind.
“I’m going home, Josie,” she said as Josie was led from the hotel. “If the press are there when you get back, you’ll just need to face them.”
Angela said to her husband, “Hamish has gone off to Corsica with Elspeth. Do you think they’ll get married?”
“God forbid. This village has had enough of Hamish Macbeth and his