Death of a Valentine Part 7

"Right, Hamish, where's the tape?" said Jimmy. Hamish took a small, powerful tape recorder out of his pocket and handed it to Jimmy.

"Odd that," said Jimmy. "I never think of you as being high-tech. I wouldn't have been surprised if you'd written your notes up in the snow. Come on, lads. I'll keep you posted, Hamish."

The more she landed in disgrace with Hamish, the more Josie's obsession with him grew. As he was making his way back to Lochdubh, Josie sat in her room at the manse in front of the peat fire and dreamt of becoming his wife. In her mind, she remodelled the police station. There would need to be room for a nursery for the three children she planned to have.

It was only when she awoke in the morning with a hangover that she conjured up one sensible idea. If she worked hard investigating and maybe solved this case, Hamish would admire her. He would want her company instead of looking at her flat-eyed.

Hamish was relieved and surprised when Josie reported to the police station and suggested that she should do some investigative work in Braikie and go round the town and try to ferret out more of Annie's friends. Hamish filled her in with what he had found out about Bill Freemont.

Josie looked so neat and efficient in her newly sponged and pressed uniform that he offered her a coffee. Josie sat down happily at the kitchen table and looked around. It was a very small kitchen but could be extended. That old-fashioned stove would have to go. And the other thing that would have to go, she thought, eyeing the dog and cat who were slumbering together in front of the stove, was those wretched animals of his. She would get pregnant quickly and tell Hamish that his pets would cause allergies.

Hamish handed her a mug of coffee. "It's odd, isn't it?" he said in his lilting highland voice. "At first it seemed as if this murder was the work of some maniac. Now it turns out Annie was what Scotland Yard would call a murderee, someone who works people up so much that she's bound to get b.u.mped off sooner or later."

"Or maybe it has something to do with drugs," said Josie. "I mean, Stardust, the disco owned by Barry Fitzcameron. He owns a couple of pubs as well. He plays the part of the good citizen, gives a lot to charity, that sort of thing. But when I was waiting for you at headquarters, I heard one of the policemen complaining about that raid on the disco. He said they couldn't even find an underaged drinker, let alone any drugs, and he thought Barry had been tipped off. Because one thing I did notice in that disco was that some of the drinkers were definitely underaged."

Hamish looked at her thoughtfully. He wondered why Blair hadn't jumped at the idea of being there at the raid. "Which pubs does he own?" he asked.

"The Clarty Duck and The Stag."

"Interesting."

The phone in the office rang. "I wonder if I should answer that," said Hamish. "It's after nine and we should be at work. Better leave it." He c.o.c.ked an ear as his answering machine picked up a message. "Hamish, this is Jimmy. Jake Cullen made bail. He was shot dead on the steps of the sheriff's court." Hamish rushed into the office and s.n.a.t.c.hed up the phone. "You still there? It's me, Hamish."

"Did you get that?" asked Jimmy.

"Yes, any witnesses?"

"Only the one. Some poor auld granny has a flat opposite the court. A masked gunman came in the night before and told her to shut up or he'd kill her. He tied her to the bed. Then she said he just sat there, smoking and waiting. She thought he was going to kill her. Then she fell asleep. She said she was exhausted with fear. She awoke to the sound of the shot. Then he just ran out. It seems he set up at the window with a rifle-maybe a deer rifle-and shot Jake. It smells of a professional hit. And that screams at me that our oh-so-clean and worthy citizen Barry Fitzcameron might be behind it. We're going to be tied up here for a good bit. You and McSween get over to Braikie and see what you can dig up."

"On our way," said Hamish. He went back into the kitchen. Josie wasn't there. He walked into his living room. Josie wheeled around and blushed.

"If you want to examine my home again," said Hamish severely, "ask! Now let's get going. You find out what you can about her friends. Start off with the school. Maybe her messing about started there. I'll check back with the neighbours."

"I'm sorry," whispered Josie. "It's just I've never properly seen all round a highland police station before."

And never will again, thought Hamish. He ushered her out and then went out to his Land Rover followed by his dog and cat.

Josie drove miserably in the direction of Braikie. Before Hamish had caught her, she had opened the door of the spare room which led off the living room and had blinked in amazement at the amount of rusty junk. And he had just been beginning to thaw towards her. She was determined to work hard all day and not give up until she came up with just one clue.

Hamish followed her, his mind turning over thoughts about Blair. Then he mentally shrugged. It need not have been anyone as high up as Blair. It could have been anyone at police headquarters, down to the cleaners. If Josie was right, and there was underaged drinking usually at the disco, then it stood to reason that Barry had been tipped off.

The day was fine and cold. He slowed down on the sh.o.r.e road. Men were working on the seawall. The tide was out. They were working hard. He stopped and rolled down the window. "Got your funds?" he called to the foreman.

"Aye, but we can only work when the tide's out, otherwise we get battered wi' the waves."

Hamish drove on until he reached the quiet street where Annie had lived. He decided to call on Cora Baxter first. The councillor's wife answered the door. "Oh, it's you," she said. "Come in."

Hamish wondered at first if everything in the living room was new and decided he was looking at terrifying housekeeping. The sun shone through the glittering windows onto a gla.s.s coffee table where magazines were arranged in exact precision to line up with the edges of the table. The three-piece suite was in red leather, and the hair-cord brown fitted carpet was covered in hooked rugs. Hamish reflected she had probably made them herself. He had seen many like them at church sales. One bar was lit in an electric heater in front of the fireplace. The mantel was covered in little gla.s.s figures: he noticed a Bambi and a Snow White along with the Seven Dwarfs.

On a round table by the window was a cut-gla.s.s vase full of silk flowers. To one side of the fireplace was a large flat-screen television.

Hamish removed his cap and sat down on the sofa. The leather made an embarra.s.sing fart noise. Cora stood in front of the fireplace. She was a stocky woman with bright blonde hair set in tight curls over a pugnacious face. She had small blue suspicious-looking eyes.

"Well, Constable Constable?" she demanded.

Hamish repressed a sigh. From his experience councillors like Jamie Baxter, no matter how easygoing, often had wives who considered themselves a cut above the local community.

He stood up and approached her, looming over her. It had the desired effect.

"Oh, do sit down," said Cora. Hamish went back to the sofa, which welcomed his bottom with a loud raspberry. Cora sat in one of the leather armchairs, but the chair, no doubt knowing what was due to her dignity, did not make a sound.

Hamish opened his notebook. "I am making enquiries about Annie Fleming."

"Yes?"

"Did you phone Mrs. Freemont and tell her that her husband had been seen going into Annie Fleming's house to spend the afternoon with her? I must remind you that phone calls can be checked."

"Well, I felt it my duty," said Cora truculently.

"Do you know if this happened more than once?"

"I only saw him the one time."

"And when was this?"

"About a month ago."

"Any other men?"

"Just once. An unsavoury-looking character. He had gelled hair and one of those black leather jackets. I would say he was around thirty years old."

Jake, thought Hamish bitterly. That's a dead end in every sense.

"What did you think of Annie?" asked Hamish. "And did you tell any of this to her parents?"

"First, I did mention both visits to her parents. Her father was furious with me. He said his daughter was pure and I was a malicious woman who would burn in h.e.l.lfire. Annie wouldn't burn anywhere, she was as cold as ice-b.u.t.ter wouldn't have melted in that girl's mouth. I saw them going off to the kirk a few Sundays before she died. Mr. and Mrs. Fleming put their noses in the air. But Annie turned round and gave me a nasty little smile before she walked on. I thought she was a devious tart."

"Why didn't you tell the police any of this?" demanded Hamish. "You've been withholding vital evidence."

"I wasn't going to sully her memory until after the funeral."

"But you did just that by phoning Mrs. Freemont, and by trying to blacken the girl's name with her parents. Is there anything more?"

"No, but I don't like your att.i.tude. Do remember my husband is a town councillor."

"Which means d.a.m.n all in a murder investigation," said Hamish, and warned her he would be back to ask her more questions later.

Outside, he phoned Jimmy. "Any news about the murder?"

"Nothing. That old woman might have been left there till she died o' shock and starvation if we hadn't searched all the flats opposite and found her. She's in hospital for observation but she's a game auld bird and I think she'll survive the shock all right. He never took the balaclava off but she said he was pretty well built and wearing a black sweater and black trousers."

"Surely someone saw a man with a rifle running along the street?"

"From the initial SOCO report, he went down the stairs, out the back way, and over the wall. There's a lane that runs along the back. Neighbours heard a motorbike roaring off."

"If I were you I'd check out those two pubs of Barry's. See if Blair's been seen drinking in either of them. He likes his free booze."

"Aw, c'mon, Hamish. I don't like the pillock but this is going a bit too far. Don't worry. We're checking up on everything we know about Barry. Talk to you later."

Hamish wondered whether to interview the parents and then decided it was a bit early to subject them to more questioning. Blair would already have had a go at them.

He was about to get into the Land Rover when he heard someone calling, "Officer!"

He turned round. Mrs. McGirty was standing on her front doorstep waving to him. He went up to her. "Have they found out who did this terrible thing?" she asked.

"Not yet."

"You must find out. Annie was a saint and a good member o' the kirk."

"Maybe I'll be having a word with the minister."

Josie, meanwhile, was interviewing Annie's former head teacher, Mrs. Gallagher.

"Annie was a very bright pupil," said Mrs. Gallagher, a small, motherly-looking woman. "I thought she would be going on to university and interviewed her parents but they said that their daughter wanted to be at home and look after them."

"Were they ill in any way?" asked Josie.

"No, that's what was odd. They are both hale and hearty."

"Was Annie well liked at school?"

Mrs. Gallagher hesitated.

"I know you don't like to speak ill of the dead," said Josie, "but it is a murder enquiry and one of her boyfriends was shot dead this morning outside the sheriff's court."

"This is terrible. Just terrible," gasped Mrs. Gallagher. "To be honest, Annie did not have many friends amongst the girls. Looking the way she did, she was a great favourite with the boys but then even they began to shun her."

"Do you know why?"

"I'm afraid not. It's a terrible thing to say about the poor la.s.s, but she almost seemed to enjoy her unpopularity, as if it gave her a certain power, as if she was looking down on all of them. I did send her to the school counsellor."

"Why?"

"When a beautiful girl like Annie Fleming goes on the way she was doing, I begin to wonder if there might not be a certain trace of the psychopath there. If you go along the corridor, you'll find Miss Haggerty's name on the end door. I will phone her and tell her you are coming."

Miss Haggerty was a thin, frail woman with grey hair, spectacles, and a tired face. "Oh, Annie," she said in reply to Josie's questions about what she had thought of her. "I could not get anywhere with her. It was during her last year. She said she was looking forward to leaving the school because she found the other pupils too young for her. That was all she would say. She had good marks and seemed cheerful. Bright children often feel isolated, and Annie was very bright."

"Did you think she might be a bit of a psychopath?" asked Josie.

"Oh, no, simply highly intelligent."

"Manipulative?"

"I do not think she could manipulate me in any way."

Josie left the school feeling downcast. Her phone rang. It was Hamish. "I'm not getting anywhere," said Josie.

"I'm going to see the minister, Mr. Tallent. Like to come?"

"Where are you?"

"Outside her house."

"Be right with you."

Josie hummed a cheerful tune as she drove along. All was not lost. Hamish had obviously forgiven her for poking around his home.

Chapter Five.

n.o.body who has not been in the interior of a family can say what the difficulties of any individual of that family may be. -Jane Austen -Jane Austen "He may have been diddling her," said Josie as they both got out of the Land Rover at the minister's home.

"Who?" demanded Hamish.

"Her own father."

"For heffen's sakes, la.s.sie, have you lost your wits? You've been watching Law and Order Special Victims Unit. Law and Order Special Victims Unit."

"It happens in these backwards places," said Josie defiantly. "Lots of incest."

"Look here, McSween, I don't want to pull rank on you, but I am going to. When we get in there, keep your mouth shut. In future, address me as 'sir.' "

Josie went bright red and hung her head, making Hamish feel like a pompous idiot. And yet it was time that Josie started behaving like a policewoman.

Hamish rang the bell of the manse cottage and waited. It was a two-storeyed Victorian sandstone building fronted by a garden full of laurels and rhododendrons on either side of a brick path. He pressed the bell and waited.

The door was opened by a squat man wearing black clericals and a dog collar. "I hope you are not here to bother the Flemings," he said.