“I chust used it over the years to put away stuff that might come in handy,” said Hamish.
“An old fridge, a broken electric kettle, a lawn mower, and that’s just the stuff that’s blocking the entrance. You’ll need to get a skip and clean the place out.”
“I don’t want a policeman living with me.”
“Settle for it, laddie. It’s either that or Strathbane. I gather they’re going ahead with Catriona’s funeral this afternoon.”
“Yes. There was some fuss about her being buried in consecrated ground, but Rory McBride is having her cremated and taking the ashes away with him. There’s a service in the kirk at three o’clock this afternoon and then what’s left of her body will be taken to the crematorium at Strathbane.”
“Won’t be many there, I suppose.”
“The women will turn up. They’ll say it is their Christian duty but it’s just an excuse to wear a hat and gossip. They fair frighten me now. I feel I don’t really know what they’re like.”
“Better not to. You know, Hamish, the day I discovered I didn’t understand women at all was a great relief. After that, I just learned to take them as they came.”
“Unfortunate choice of words, Jimmy.”
“Got any whisky?”
“The sun isn’t even over the yardarm.”
“This is still winter. The sun has barely the strength to crawl up the sky.”
“Oh, all right. Just the one. How’s Colin taking it?”
“I think he’ll be all right. I took him home late last night. Fergus came round and hugged him and said he’d stay the night.”
“Maybe they’ll be able to help each other get over this.”
♦
Hamish went up to the church in the afternoon. The Currie sisters had put in an appearance along with Mrs. Wellington. Rory McBride was there. Other than that, the church was deserted. Mr. Wellington gave a short sermon, they sang several hymns, and then the undertaker’s men, who had been smoking outside the church, came in and bore off the coffin with the remains of Catriona.
Hamish gave a sigh of relief as the hearse drove off followed by one single car, driven by Rory McBride.
“I hope never to see another person like Catriona as long as I live,” he said.
“He’s talking to himself again,” came the voice of Nessie Currie. “Daft, that’s what he is.”
Hamish made his escape.
♦
Priscilla had decided to hold a small party for Elspeth and Perry, who were leaving the following morning. She wanted to somehow get a date with Perry even if it meant going to Glasgow to see him. She phoned the forensic lab and invited Lesley in the hope that Lesley would keep Hamish occupied. Mr. Johnson was invited and Angela and Dr. Brodie as well. She decided she’d better ask Matthew Campbell and his wife and maybe Mr. and Mrs. Wellington and the long-staying guest, Dominic Garry. Then she realised she hadn’t told Hamish about the party. She phoned him up and he said he would be there.
Priscilla was glad that her parents were away visiting friends in Caithness. Her father was quite capable of asking Perry to marry her.
♦
Hamish was getting ready for the party when he heard someone knocking at the kitchen door. He had just finished shaving. He wrapped a towel around his neck and went to answer the door.
Lesley stood there, beaming. “I thought I would drive you up to the party,” she said. “That way you can drink as much as you like.”
“I never was much of a drinker,” said Hamish. “And I’d like to take my own vehicle. I never know when I’ll be called out.”
“Aren’t you going to ask me in?”
“Just for a minute.”
Lesley swept past him in a cloud of perfume. She shrugged off her coat. She was wearing a transparent spangly white chiffon blouse. Hamish could clearly see that underneath it she was wearing a very sturdy white brassiere. A short scarlet skirt, sheer stockings, and high heels completed the ensemble.
“I’m sorry I shut the door on you,” said Lesley. “You see, when you turned up in your uniform and with your pets, I assumed you just didn’t care.”
“Why should I care that much?” asked Hamish. “It’s not as if we’re an item.”
“But we could be! You are to be promoted to sergeant but with my help, you could go a lot further.”
“Lesley, I really need to finish dressing. I do not want to be helped to fame and glory. I will see you at the party.”
Lesley could not quite believe this was happening. She had built up such a romantic scene in her mind. As the only woman in the lab, she had turned down date after date until she had begun to think of herself as irresistible. She had taken Hamish’s advice and warned them all that she would report anyone for sexual harassment who overstepped the mark. The rude jokes and nasty things in her locker had promptly ceased, to be replaced with romantic tributes like chocolates and flowers.
She did not know that her colleagues had opened a betting book to see who could seduce her first.
Hamish turned away. “Shut the door on your road out.”
♦
Priscilla and Elspeth had both spent a long time working on their appearances. As it was not a dressy affair and taking place early in the evening, Priscilla had settled for a classic look: soft blue cashmere sweater with a matching skirt and a sapphire-and-pearl choker necklace.
Elspeth, who had a limited wardrobe, had decided on the Edith Piaf look to match her frizzy hair. She had put on a short black dress and plenty of white foundation cream, white powder, and scarlet lipstick.
They entered the lounge at the same time, covertly eyeing each other. Elspeth immediately felt like a freak. She got a glimpse of herself in a mirror and thought miserably that she looked ill rather than attractive.
She fled back upstairs and scrubbed off the white make-up and replaced it with something more subdued.
By the time she went back down, most of the guests had arrived, with the exception of Perry.
Angela Brodie went up to Hamish. “You really do scrub up well,” she said.
Hamish was wearing a beautifully tailored charcoal-grey suit with a silk tie. He had found the suit in a thrift shop and was amazed to find when he got it home that it fitted him perfectly.
“You’re looking charming yourself,” said Hamish gallantly, although Angela was wearing a droopy dress as grey as her wispy hair.
Perry entered and stood in the doorway of the lounge, smiling all around.
Priscilla and Elspeth went straight up to him and began to talk. Hamish scowled. “What’s up?” teased Angela. “You don’t want them but don’t want anyone else to have them?”
Hamish scowled harder and moved away from her. He waited for an opportunity. Mrs. Wellington went up to them and then drew Priscilla away. Matthew Campbell approached them and began to talk.
Hamish went over to Perry. “You haven’t got a drink. Come with me to the bar.”
“I barely recognised you,” said Perry. “You ought to dress up more often.” He said to the barman, “I’ll have a whisky.”
Perry was feeling warm and tipsy. Priscilla had sent a bottle of chilled champagne to his room earlier with the compliments of the hotel, and somehow he had drunk the lot.
“Don’t you ever get bored up here, Hamish?” he asked.
“Och, no, there is always something funny going on.” Hamish began to tell Perry some highly amusing and completely fictitious highland stories. From time to time either Elspeth or Priscilla tried to butt in, but Perry blocked them out as Hamish’s soft highland voice went on and on.
The party began to thin out. Lesley cast one anguished look at Hamish and then left. Hamish saw her leave out of the corner of one eye, gave her ten minutes, and then said, “Grand talking to you. Got to go.”
“But…,” began Perry. Hamish was already rapidly making his way out of the lounge.