Death of a Valentine Part 19

She was just about to unscrew the top of the bottle when she heard footsteps approaching along the corridor outside. Josie thrust the bottle under the mattress, whipped off her coat, and began to pull her regulation sweater over her head as the door opened.

"Oh, sorry," said Mrs. Wellington. "I just came to ask you if you'd like a hot-water bag."

"No thanks," said Josie. "I'm fine."

"Right. See you in the morning."

Josie waited again until she heard the door of Mrs. Wellington's room shut. Her hands were shaking. She seized the bottle from under the mattress and twisted off the top. She drank a great mouthful, feeling the spirit burn down to her stomach and a glow beginning to spread through her body.

Josie sat down by the fire that Mrs. Wellington had lit earlier and began to drink steadily.

Chapter Ten.

Life is just one d.a.m.ned thing after another. -Elbert Hubbard -Elbert Hubbard Josie awoke the next day and felt she had not thought the drugging of Hamish through properly. If she used laudanum or Mandrax then he might remember clearly what happened before he went to sleep. Rohypnol, that date-rape drug, was the answer. But how could she get hold of some? There had been a case of a girl claiming she had been drugged and raped. What had been her name? Grace something or other. Think!

She phoned Hamish and said she had some shopping to do in Strathbane. "Go ahead," said Hamish. "There's nothing more we can do at the moment. But keep away from police headquarters!"

Josie drove to the library at Strathbane and by trawling through the back numbers of the Strathbane Journal Strathbane Journal on the library computer, she found the name she was looking for-Grace Chalmers. on the library computer, she found the name she was looking for-Grace Chalmers.

Now the problem was how to get the Chalmers evidence box without signing for it. Somehow, she would have to try to con her way into where the evidence was kept.

She knew old Joe Macdonald, in charge of the evidence room, had a soft spot for her.

But when she made her way downstairs, she saw to her dismay that the man on the other side of the counter was Charlie, the greeter from the AA meeting.

"Why, Josie," he said. "I didnae know we were both in the same business. How are you getting on?"

"Where's Joe?"

"Oh, he's retired."

Josie thought quickly. "Can I come through and talk to you?"

"I shouldnae, really, but och, I'm supposed to help a fellow sufferer. Come on through."

He buzzed her in. "Having trouble wi' John Barleycorn?" he asked.

"Just a bit."

"Which meetings do you...d.a.m.n, there's someone coming. Hide yourself."

Josie darted behind the shelves of evidence boxes and began to search desperately. At last she found the box she was looking for and opened it up. There was a bottle of Rohypnol in its evidence bag, all neatly labelled. She stuffed it quickly in her pocket. She heard Charlie calling her and went back to the desk.

"Josie," he said urgently, "get back outside. You have my number. Give me a ring."

"Will do," said Josie.

Once she was back outside, he asked, "Now what was it you wanted?"

"I wanted to look at evidence from the Percy Stane murder."

"Then you'll need to go over to forensics. It's all still there."

Josie thanked him and made her escape.

Her head was full of plans as she drove back to Lochdubh. No more booze. She was not an alcoholic. She would need a clear head. She must get into the police station just before the wedding reception and drug those wretched animals. Some laudanum in their drinking bowls should do the trick. Then she'd better put the Rohypnol in Hamish's drink at the wedding reception. Maybe make sure it was a soft drink. It could be lethal in alcohol.

Sat.u.r.day dawned bright and sunny. The wedding service was to be held at eleven o'clock in the morning. Then there was a wedding breakfast for close friends and family and at seven in the evening in the village hall, there was to be a grand party for everyone in the village and round about who cared to come.

The wedding service went well but Hamish wasn't there. Outside the church, Josie phoned Hamish's mobile. He said he was over in Braikie but would be back for the dance and told her to enjoy herself.

Carrying a packet of fish and a packet of venison, Josie let herself into the police station at six o'clock. She fed the dog and the cat and then poured laudanum into their drinking bowls and made her way back to the manse to change for the party.

She decided to wear a conservative black dress with a choker of pearls. She meant to look as respectable as possible.

It was just when she was about to leave her room that the whole plan appeared to her to be dangerous and stupid. What had come over her? Her hands began to shake. She rolled back the rug and prised up a loose floorboard where she had hidden a bottle of Scotch. She gulped some down and then some more.

No, she thought stubbornly, Hamish and I are meant to be together. Like a soldier going off to battle, she hid the bottle, stood up, squared her shoulders, and marched to the door.

When she arrived at the church, the bride, resplendent in her wedding dress, was taking the floor with her new husband. Josie's eyes filled with sentimental tears. That will soon be me, she thought.

She helped herself to a soft drink, aware of Mrs. Wellington's eyes on her. Josie accepted several offers to dance, all the time watching the door for the arrival of Hamish.

At last she saw his fiery head. He was impeccably dressed in his one good suit. Josie went to join him. "How is it going?" she asked.

"Still nothing," said Hamish. "Let's find a quiet corner. I want to talk about it."

They both walked to a corner of the hall, away from the band. "It's thon d.a.m.n video," complained Hamish. "I've watched it and watched it until my eyes hurt. There must be something there. I've even borrowed a machine from the hotel so I can go over it at the police station."

"Perhaps I could have a look at it this evening," said Josie. "Maybe a fresh pair of eyes is what you need."

"You won't want to miss the fun."

"I don't mind."

"All right. We'll have something to eat. I've got to talk to a few people and thank Grace's parents for the party. I'll let you know when I'm ready to go."

This was all meant to happen, thought Josie.

She sat in a corner of the hall, refusing offers to dance, frightened that Hamish might think she was enjoying herself so much that he would leave her behind.

But he finally came up to her and said, "Are you sure you can be bothered looking at that video tonight?"

"Yes, I'm dying to see it," said Josie eagerly.

Curious eyes watched them leave the hall together.

At the police station, Hamish exclaimed, "Would you look at those lazy beasts!" Sonsie and Lugs lay curled up together asleep beside the stove. "Now come into the living room, and I'll run that video."

"Can I get you something to drink?" asked Josie.

"Not at the moment."

She followed him into the living room. She shivered. Hamish had central heating but hardly ever used it.

Hamish switched on the television and slotted the video in. Josie decided to pay close attention. If she did find something, he would be so thrilled with her that it would throw him off-guard.

What if there might be someone amongst the crowd that Hamish had not noticed? So instead of studying the main characters, she kept her eyes on the audience. The Lammas queen was crowned and proceeded on a float through the town, then back to the field.

Suddenly she leaned forward. "Stop the film! Right, run it back a bit. Stop! There! At the edge of the screen."

The provost and councillors had left the rostrum, where the queen now sat with her attendants. It was a back view. Percy had moved behind the rostrum to film the crowds.

The provost and councillors stood in groups near the rostrum, chatting. At the very edge of the screen stood Jamie Baxter. He was looking straight at Annie, and his face was a mask of hatred. Hamish ran the film slowly forward. His wife was with him. She said something to him and tugged at his arm, and then they both walked away.

"Well, I neffer," breathed Hamish, the sibilance of his accent showing his excitement. "I wonder if there's anything in our Jamie's background to show he knew about bombs. I'll check tomorrow. Oh, good girl! This calls for a drink."

"I'll get it," said Josie. "Whisky."

"Aye, but put a lot of water in it. I want to have a clear head in the morning. The bottle's in the cupboard. I'll chust hae a look at this again."

Josie hesitated in the kitchen. He was pleased with her. Let it go. But what if Elspeth came back from Glasgow? According to Mrs. Wellington, they'd been an item.

She took down the bottle of whisky and poured a weak measure for Hamish and a strong one for herself. She added two crushed tablets of Rohypnol to Hamish's drink and stirred them up.

"Switch off the light," ordered Hamish. "I want a better look at this."

Everything's going my way, thought Josie. If there're any grounds in the gla.s.s, he won't notice in the dark. She handed Hamish his drink. "Slainte," she said.

Hamish took a drink. "You're right," he said, his eyes glued to the screen. "How could I ha' missed that?"

He continued drinking while he stared at the screen. Then he suddenly put his hand up to his head. "I feel dizzy."

"Maybe there was something in the food at the party," said Josie. Hamish stood up and swayed.

"Let me get you to bed." She supported his lanky figure as he stumbled towards the bedroom.

Hamish fell on the bed. When he had come back to the police station, he had taken off his jacket and tie. Josie struggled until she had removed his shirt. His eyes were closed, and he seemed to be out cold. She threw the shirt on the floor and then pulled his trousers off. By the time she got his underpants and socks and shoes off, she was sweating. There was the final effort of managing to get him under the bedclothes. She stripped off her own clothes and crept naked into the bed beside him. She rubbed her naked body against his, working herself up. There must be a smell of s.e.x when he woke up in the morning.

This is what it's going to be like for real, thought Josie, laying her head on his chest.

Hamish slowly regained consciousness the following morning. He felt a body next to his. He blearily looked down into Josie's sleeping face. He rolled out of bed and fell on the floor with a thump. He stared down at his naked body. A trail of discarded clothes lay on the floor from the entrance to the bedroom to the bed.

He clutched his forehead and groaned aloud. Josie became awake. "Good morning, darling," she said huskily.

Hamish seized the duvet from the bed and covered his naked body. That left Josie exposed. He stumbled to his feet, grabbed his dressing gown, and wrapped it around himself. He went into the kitchen where his bleary animals were just waking up. He lit the stove with trembling hands and put water on to boil for coffee.

Josie came up behind him and put her arms around him. "Get off!" snarled Hamish.

"But, Hamish, darling," wailed Josie. "After last night, you can't treat me like this."

"I cannae remember a thing," muttered Hamish. "Look, if this gets out, we'll lose our jobs. Keep your mouth shut and forget it effer happened."

"But I can't. I love you."

"Josie, just go. If it was a one-night stand, I'm sorry. It won't happen again. Take yourself off to your mother's and leave me in peace for a bit. Maybe some b.a.s.t.a.r.d gave me a mickey at that party. I'll go to Brodie and get a blood test taken and then go over to forensics and get them to a.n.a.lyse it."

Tears running down her face, Josie dressed, put on her coat, and staggered from the police station. This was a nightmare. It would all lead back to her, she was sure of it. Hamish would soon realise she was the one who was interested in drugging him.

To her relief, Mrs. Wellington was out when she got back to the manse. Josie packed her suitcase, went downstairs, and left a note on the kitchen table for Mrs. Wellington before going out to her car and driving off, squinting through her tears.

Hamish hurried to Dr. Brodie's surgery and got the doctor to take a blood test and a urine sample. "Give them to me," ordered Hamish, "and I'll take them over to forensics."

"Hamish, no one else at the wedding has been in here to complain of any ill effects."

Hamish drove quickly to the forensics lab. Lesley regarded him impatiently when she heard his request. "We're backed up, Hamish. You should have left the doctor to send them to the hospital lab."

"Chust dae this," snapped Hamish. "Someone tried to drug me. I'm sure of it."

"Oh, leave it," said Lesley. "We'll do our best."

When Hamish had left, her husband, Bruce, asked, "What was that about?"

"Hamish has left us his blood sample and urine sample. He wants a rush on it. He thinks he's been drugged."

"We've got too much to do," said Bruce, who was jealous of Hamish because he knew his wife had at one time been keen on the policeman. "Shove them in the fridge."

"But what do I tell him when he starts nagging on the phone?"

"Oh, for heaven's sakes, tell him he's clear. We can't be wasting time on one d.a.m.n highland policeman."