Hamish Macbeth - Death Of A Village Part 14

The elderly couple heaved and pushed, with only the result of sending Hamish toppling over onto the floor.

"They may have poisoned him," panted Mr. Jefferson. "I'll bring the car round to the door. We'll try to get him in the back and take him to Dr. Brodie."

"He's drugged, I'm sure, but his pulse is strong. Okay, get the car."

Fortunately for them, Hamish regained brief consciousness, enough for them to get him out the door and into the car, where they thrust him into the backseat. Lugs jumped in after his master. Mr. Jefferson relocked the door and set off, driving at breakneck speed.

Dr. Brodie opened the door and stared in bewilderment at the elderly couple who were both talking at once about fire and drugs and Hamish. At last he made out what they were saying and went out to the car. Hamish blinked at him groggily.

"Come on, lad," said the doctor, easing him out of the car. "Let's get you inside."

His wife, Angela, came out to help.

Hamish was laid down on the living room carpet. Dr. Brodie shone a light in his eyes. "Yes, it's a fair guess he's been drugged. Better call Strathbane."

"I think you should ask Hamish first what he wants to do," said Mrs. Docherty. "It's an undercover operation," she added importantly.

"Oh, very well. We'll walk him up and down a bit. Angela, you take one side and I'll take the other."

Slowly Hamish recovered until he was able to sit and drink black coffee.

"It was the whisky, I'm sure of it," he said. "I bought a bottle at the store. A man called McGarry called round to fix the electric meter. He may have doctored the whisky and done something to the wiring. Did you bring that bottle of whisky with you?"

"There was no whisky that I could see and no gla.s.s," said Mrs. Docherty. "I looked in case you'd taken pills or something."

"Whatever is going on in Stoyre which prompted someone to try to kill a policeman must be pretty criminal," said Hamish. "Did you phone Strathbane?"

"No, we were waiting to see what you wanted to do."

"I cannae keep quiet about it," said Hamish. "Let me phone Daviot."

They waited while he phoned. They could hear Hamish telling his chief about what happened and then outraged squawks coming down the line.

Then Hamish interrupted with "This is serious, sir. I have an idea. May I come and discuss it with you?"

When he rang off, he said, "Can I borrow your car, Angela? I'm going to talk to Daviot."

"You're still in no fit state to drive," said the doctor.

"That's all right," said Mr. Jefferson happily. "We'll drive him, won't we, Annie?"

"Of course we will."

Angela smiled. "You'd best come with me to the bathroom and wash your face, Mr. Jefferson. You're all black with smoke."

Despite feeling groggy, Hamish could only wonder at the energy of the old couple as Mr. Jefferson with Mrs. Docherty beside him and Lugs and Hamish in the backseat drove off at speed in the direction of Strathbane. "Are we going to his home?" asked Mr. Jefferson, braking violently as a deer appeared in the middle of the road. "Good thing I didn't hit that," he said amiably as the deer leapt off into the night. "Could have totalled the car."

"And us," said Hamish, who felt he had endured; enough shocks. "No, he's meeting me at police head quarters. How did you guess it was the wiring and know to switch off the electricity?"

There was a silence. An owl flitted across in front of them and for a brief time there was only the sound of the engine. Then Mr. Jefferson said reluctantly, "I may as well tell you, being a reformed character, I once pulled that trick-not to try to kill anyone, mind, but to clear a house. I was staying in so that I could lift a few trinkets during the confusion."

"I never thought I would be grateful to someone wi' criminal experience," said Hamish. "You saved my life. How did you know I was at Stoyre?"

"Your girlfriend told us," said Mrs. Docherty.

"She iss not my girlfriend," said Hamish testily, and leant back and closed his eyes.

SEVEN.

Man is the only animal that laughs and weeps; for he is the only animal that is struck with the difference between what things are, and what they ought to be.

-William Hazlitt "I hope you have some definite facts to report," said Daviot. "It's two in the morning."

Hamish told him of the attempt on his life.

"And you didn't even phone? I'll get the boys over there, fast!"

"Wait a wee minute, sir. If you do that, the locals will obstruct you as before. There's no evidence of that drugged whisky. They'll all gang up together and swear I was drunk. I'm sure that electrician knew his job, just as I'm sure no money has been spent on that cottage in keeping it in order in years. The wiring will appear to have been faulty, and if an electrician checks through the house, I'm sure he'll find some of the wiring really is faulty."

"So what do you suggest?"

"I suggest you get an undercover squad of workmen to go over to Stoyre and check everything and help me clean up. I want the locks repaired and a burglar alarm put in. Don't tell the estate agent anything about it at the moment. I'll return there tomorrow with the workmen and go on as if nothing happened. That will scare whoever's trying to get me. I think they'll lie low for a bit. Whatever is going on there, it must be something big, something that involves the whole village. There are lots of handy inlets and bays north of Stoyre and the only way to them is along a dirt road leading north from the village. I'd like to take a look in case anyone's landing anything illegal."

Daviot studied Hamish, wishing, not for the first time, that the man were more like a regular policeman. Every time he looked at Hamish Macbeth, with his long, lanky figure, pleasant face, and flaming red hair, he saw a maverick. But Strathbane police had hit the headlines with the solving of the insurance fraud and the hospital business, and both investigations had been successful because of Hamish.

"All right," he said reluctantly. "You've got the rest of the week. If you don't come up with anything, it'll be a waste of money. Are you recovered from the drugs?"

"Pretty much."

"How did you get here?"

"That elderly couple, Docherty and Jefferson, who saved my life, gave me a lift."

"Keep them out of this one. Promise?"

"I'll do that," said Hamish.

They discussed arrangements and then Hamish went up to the canteen, where he found Mr. Jefferson feeding Lugs sugar buns.

"You'll ruin his teeth," howled Hamish. He looked at the bowl on the floor. "And you've been giving him coffee."

"The poor wee dog needed a treat," said Mrs. Docherty. "So, are they sending men over there?"

Hamish hesitated. Detective Harry MacNab was at the next table and obviously straining his ears to hear what they were saying.

"Let's go," he said.

On the drive back he was pestered with questions until he said wearily, "All right. I'll tell you. But you've got to keep away from Stoyre." He described his plan.

"We could help you," said Mr. Jefferson.

"No, you've done enough. You are not to go near Stoyre. Do I have your promise?"

They both gave him a reluctant "yes."

"Did they ever find out what was in those pills they gave us at the nursing home?" asked Mrs. Docherty, changing the subject.

"Betterdorm. Sleeping pills."

"What's Betterdorm?" asked Mrs. Docherty.

"Betterdorm is a brand name. The drug is a central nervous system depressant similar to barbiturates. The effect on the body is a reduction in the heart and breathing rate and blood pressure. Small doses create a feeling of euphoria. Larger doses can bring about depression, irrational behaviour, poor reflexes, and slurred speech. It's a grand way of making old folks seem senile."

"Maybe that's what's behind all this in Stoyre," said Mr. Jefferson. "Maybe someone's landing drugs and all this religious business is a cover-up."

"Forget Stoyre," snapped Hamish. "Chust drop me off and don't go near the place again."

The next day, Hamish looked out of the window of the house on the waterfront. Behind him, workmen were cleaning off the smoke damage and checking the wiring. One was putting in a burglar alarm and a locksmith was changing the locks. What did they make of it all?

'They' were the villagers. They stood in groups a little way away from the front of the house, watching and whispering. Through the open window, the hissing and murmuring of their voices reached Hamish's ears, sounding like the waves on the beach.

He felt a superst.i.tious shudder run through his body. It was like being trapped in some science fiction film where the aliens had taken over the population.

And then a small noisy sports car roared along the waterfront and jerked to a stop outside the house. Elspeth climbed out. She was wearing a scarlet ankle-length cardigan over a white shirt blouse and brief shorts. Hamish felt ridiculously pleased to see her. It was as if her very arrival had broken some sort of spell. The villagers began to move off.

"Come in," said Hamish. "What brings you?"

"I came to see what you were up to," said Elspeth. "Why all these workmen?"

"Had a bit of faulty wiring."

"Oh, yeah? So what's the reason for the new burglar alarm and the new locks?"

"Walk across to the harbour wall with me. Come on, Lugs."

"What's up with Lugs?" asked Elspeth. "He looks right miserable."

"His coat was all smoke. I had to put him in the shower this morning. He'll perk up when he gets the sun on his back."

They leant on the harbour wall. "At least there aren't any gales," said Hamish. "I think that's why the cottage was so cold and damp when I moved in. I'll bet on a stormy day the waves crash over this wall and go right up to the door."

Elspeth bent down and patted Lugs. He shrugged as if to push her off and moved slightly away, looking up at her out of his strange blue eyes.

"Your dog is jealous of me."

"Havers. He was never jealous of Priscilla."

d.a.m.n that b.l.o.o.d.y woman, thought Elspeth. Aloud she said, "So tell me the truth. What's really going on?"

"You've to say nothing, mind, and nothing in print. If I get something, you'll be the first to know."

So he told her about being drugged, then the fire and how he was rescued.

Her eyes shone with excitement. "So they were prepared to kill a policeman to keep whatever they're hiding quiet!"

"It looks like that."

"So why aren't Strathbane rounding everyone up in the village?"

"I persuaded the boss to leave me be. They won't try anything more for a bit."

"Exactly," said Elspeth impatiently. "They'll lie low until you leave."

"When the workmen are finished, I'm going to walk up the coast a bit and have a look."

"I'd come with you but I've got a story over in Cnothan."

"What about?"

"It's a cake-baking compet.i.tion, so help me."

"You won't last long up here with all these fiddling stories."

"If I stick around you, I'll get something big. I feel it in my bones."

"You can do something for me."

"Like what?"

"See if you can get me admiralty charts for the bit of coast to the north of here. See if there are any caves. Somewhere a boat could be hidden."

Elspeth was just returning to the newspaper office in the late afternoon when she saw old Mrs. Docherty standing looking out over the loch.

"Where's your partner?" she asked when she had crossed the road to join her.

"Oh, him. I'm sick of him."

"Already? What's the matter?"

"He wants us to get married."

"And you don't want to?"