Death of a Valentine Part 11

"What with?"

"A sharpened toothbrush."

"What on earth was left in his cell to sharpen the d.a.m.n 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, G.o.d, we're all in deep c.r.a.p 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 b.a.s.t.a.r.d, 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, Oh, well, in that case, I'll go myself, but she merely hung her head and looked miserable. 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 FOR SALE sign. "Now, that is very interesting," said Hamish. "The marriage must be breaking up. Bill would never have let her sell." 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, "b.a.s.t.a.r.d!" 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. You should have seen his face! The idiot considers himself an environmentalist. Oh, he'll catch some other poor woman the way he caught me. I met him at one of those save-the-planet get-togethers in Edinburgh and he courted me and as soon as we were married, he sweet-talked me into this piece of rubbish. I used to be concerned about things like my carbon footprint. Now I don't give a d.a.m.n if it's a carbon hobnailed boot. I want out."

"It is very hard to get building permission," said Hamish.

"I've got a loophole. I got building permission for this ratty office and the house and believe me that's going to cover a mult.i.tude of sins, meaning a few rows of nasty little bungalows."

"Have any of the creatures been returned to you?"

"Not a one. They were all, apart from the minks and the lion, from the local countryside. They're all probably happy in their natural habitat. And they hadn't been in the cages long enough to get used to being fed."

"Have any of the animal libbers been caught?"

She gave a cynical laugh. "No. I think you lot have enough on your hands what with an escaped hit man and a murder in the cells to bother about a few idiots."

"What did you think of Annie Fleming?" asked Hamish.

"A right little tart she turned out to be. I suspected there was something going on with Bill. I don't think she could leave anything in trousers alone."

"What about a kilt?" asked Josie seriously.

Hamish burst out laughing and Josie blushed. But Jocasta said, "About a month ago, I was walking out to the cages when I saw her up on the main road beside a four-by-four talking to a man in a kilt. He was all dressed up in the full rig like men wear when they're going to a wedding or an official function."

"What did he look like?"

"He was too far away. Medium height, dark hair. They saw me watching and he jumped in his vehicle and drove off.

"Then there was a weedy-looking youth hanging around. He kept trying to speak to Annie but she told him to get lost. I think she called him Percy."

"I know who you mean," said Hamish. "I think we'll be having a wee word with that young man again."

Back at the Land Rover, Hamish phoned police headquarters and asked for Mark Lussie's mobile phone number. He waited patiently until he got it. Then he said to Josie, "Before we go and see Percy again, I've got an idea. Maybe Mark's murderer threw that phone away in the heather."

Josie shivered as she bent before the wind and followed Hamish up the brae to the war memorial. Out to sea, dark clouds were ma.s.sing, and she hoped Hamish would either find the phone or give up before the threatening rain arrived.

Hamish took out his own phone and dialled Mark's number. He began to walk away from the war memorial down the sloping hill on the other side. At the bottom of the hill was a small grocery shop with rubbish bins parked at the back.

"I wouldnae be surprised if he didnae dump the phone in one o' thae bins," he said.

"But the bins would have been cleared by now," said Josie.

"Aye, and that's why we're going to the council tip."

They reached the Land Rover just as the rain came down in sheets. "I haven't got a raincoat with me," said Josie.

"Did you bring your coveralls?" asked Hamish, meaning the plastic suit police wore at a crime scene so that they would not contaminate it.

"Yes, I got them."

"They'll do. Suit up when we get to the tip."

The tip was down at the end of a long lane leading to the sea between Lochdubh and Strathbane. Josie's heart sank when she saw the acres of rubbish stretched out under a stormy sky full of screeching, diving seagulls.

Hamish went into the office wearing black oilskins. He asked about the rubbish from the grocery and if the man in charge had any idea which part of the acreage it would end up in.

The man said vaguely it might be over to the far left of the dump.

With Josie trailing miserably behind, Hamish went over to the left, took out his phone, and dialled Mark's number.

The wind dropped and he swore he could hear a faint ringing sound. "Come on, Josie," he urged. "I think there's something here under this pile o' garbage."

That use of her first name spurred Josie into action. "I won't dial any more until we've dug down a bit," said Hamish.

He paused occasionally to admire Josie's diligence. He had been too hard on the la.s.sie, he thought. After they had searched down a certain depth, he dialled again. "Hear that!" he cried triumphantly. He scrabbled down to the ringing sound, tossing filthy rubbish over his shoulder.

"Got it!" he cried at last. "Let's get back into shelter. This is grand." He seized hold of Josie and waltzed her round on top of the garbage.

Josie walked back to the Land Rover as if she were walking on air. "We'll get back to Lochdubh, dry out, and I'll get you something to eat," said Hamish once they were in shelter again. "Let me check this phone. What was the last call he made? Here, write this down."

Josie took out her notebook and wrote down the number. "Right," said Hamish. "Give it to me. Let's phone up and see who's at the other end."

He dialled and waited. A clear highland voice came on the line. "Town hall, Braikie," said the voice. "Which department?"

Hamish rang off, his hazel eyes gleaming. "That was the town hall. Maybe young Percy is deeper in this than I thought." He bagged Mark's mobile and stripped off his pair of latex gloves.

"I'm afraid we'd better take this over to Strathbane first. I'll blast the heater and dry us out."

Jimmy was just about to go out when they arrived. He wrinkled his nose. "You pair smell like h.e.l.l."

Hamish held up the evidence bag. "We've found Mark Lussie's mobile at the council tip. The last call he made was to the town hall. So we're going to grab at bit to eat and get over there. How are you getting on?"

"I've barely started," complained Jimmy. "Questions and questions from the big yins up to interrogate us all about how we managed to let one murder happen and one dangerous killer escape. Barry's no loss."

"Who inherits his money?" asked Hamish.

"Probably the state will take most of it like they always do when someone has been profiting from drugs. His only living relative is his sister, a churchy woman, who's horrified at her brother's criminal activities. Got to go. Give me that phone and I'll get it over to forensics."

Hamish and Josie drove to a restaurant in Strathbane. A woman at the next table said loudly, "The day when policemen actually took a bath seems to be long over."

Josie dissolved into giggles.

"We really must smell something awful," said Hamish. "After this, we'll get back to Lochdubh and clean up. I've got an old uniform I can use. What about you?"

"I've got a spare recently," said Josie.

They had a pleasant meal. Hamish was in high good humour. He felt the case was beginning to break at last.

Josie thought about her mad dream of drugging him. What a silly idea!

At the town hall, Hamish asked to be directed to wherever the switchboard was. He was grateful that the town hall was old-fashioned and didn't go in for a phone tree-press one for so-and-so, press two for someone else, and so on.

The young girl at the switchboard seemed vaguely familiar. "Police," he said. "Just a few questions. What is your name?"

"Iona Sinclair."

"Have we met? I am Police Constable Hamish Macbeth."

"I saw you last year at the crowning of the Lammas queen. It was promised to me because Annie had been queen the year before, but she got it again which wasn't fair."

Iona was a tall girl in her late teens with hair as red as Hamish's own, green eyes, and freckled skin. She had the lilting accent of the Outer Hebrides.

"We're interested in a call that came through here to the switchboard on the evening Mark Lussie was murdered," said Hamish.

"Well, we close at five o'clock. There were a lot of calls before then. People ask for various departments."

"Did anyone ask for waste disposal?"

"We get a lot of those. People are always girning on about the evil dustmen, persecuting them because the waste isn't in the proper bins."

"Did you know Annie Fleming well?"

"I was at school with her, but she wasn't popular with the girls. She was too busy chatting up the teachers."