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“What, make-up?”
“No, lotions and hair tonic and fake tan and God knows what else. There was little room for my clothes because he has such an extensive wardrobe. He expected me to play wifie and have meals ready for him and I just didn’t have the time. I finally gave him back his ring. He tried to punch me so I tripped him up so that he fell on his bum. I told him if he ever laid a finger on me I’d call the police. He stormed off to see his press agent in London so I packed all his stuff up and left it with a neighbour, changed the locks, and left a note for him on the door. I had holiday time owing, so I just got in the car yesterday and drove straight to the Tommel Castle Hotel. I’d better beg Matthew not to put anything in the Highland Times or the press will follow me up here. They’ll find out soon enough, but I want a few days’ peace and quiet.”
“I’ll make us some breakfast but then I have to leave you, Elspeth. It’s this valentine murder. I have so many suspects, my head’s going round and round. You look glamorous on the telly. Not now with your hair gone all frizzy again. But I like it frizzy.”
“It can stay a mess while I’m here. I’m sick of hairdressers and beauticians. You know, Hamish, sometimes I wish I’d stuck to that job on the Highland Times. Never mind. Tell me about the case.”
“I’ll make breakfast first.”
It was like old times, thought Hamish, as he put a plate of bacon and eggs in front of Elspeth. Elspeth looked like old times, too, with her frizzy hair and clear grey Gypsy eyes.
He began to go over the murder cases.
When he had finished, Elspeth said, “The main thing is background.”
“Like what?”
“You need to dig and dig and find out if any of them have any knowledge in their past about how to make a letter bomb.”
“Strathbane went through the lot. Nothing.”
“But,” said Elspeth, “have you got anyone on your list who came up after Strathbane checked?”
“There’s a point. I’ve been checking on the men. I’ve only recently begun to check on the women.”
“Now, someone young might not have had the experience,” said Elspeth. “What about this Bill Freemont? Where’s he gone?”
“I’ll need to ask his wife. But he was checked.”
“Maybe he knew someone who could do it for him.”
“Good girl. I’ll get over there and see the wife. Oh, I got a message from young Percy Stane. He thinks he’s got something that might interest me. I’ll call on him on the way back.”
“Want me to come with you?”
Hamish hesitated and then said cautiously, “I suppose it’ll be all right. Blair’s given up and the press have gone. Mind, old rules! No reporting on anything unless I tell you to.”
“Don’t worry,” said Elspeth. “I need a break.”
The wildlife park had a lost, deserted air about it. Bad weather was moving in from the coast, carrying a metallic smell of snow to come on a rising wind.
Jocasta was not in the office and so they went up to the house, a small, squat, pebble-dashed bungalow.
Hamish rang the bell. Elspeth huddled behind him, the collar of her coat pulled up.
Jocasta answered the door. “What now?” she asked.
“Just a few questions.”
“I don’t want any newspeople around,” said Jocasta, recognising Elspeth.
“Elspeth, wait in the car,” said Hamish. When Elspeth had turned away, Hamish said, “Can I come in? It’s freezing out here.”
“Just for a minute,” said Jocasta. “I’m packing things up.”
She ushered him into a cold living room full of packing cases.
“Do you know where your husband is?” asked Hamish.
“Unfortunately, I do. He had to give me an address to send on his stuff. I’ll write it down for you. He’s in Edinburgh.”
Hamish waited until she had written down the address and handed it to him.
“Would you say that your husband was capable of making a letter bomb?”
“I would say that my husband was not capable of even mending a fuse,” said Jocasta harshly.
“What about yourself?”
“The jealous wife? You can forget that. I was right off Bill even before I knew about A
“Do you mean Elspeth?”
“Who else?”
“Miss Grant is an old friend,” said Hamish stiffly. “When you were packing up Bill’s things, did you find anything like letters from A
“Nothing but a lot of unpaid bills that he said he had paid. Look, I am so fed up with him that if I had found there was even a hint of him being a murderer, I would have told you.”
When Hamish hurried back to the Land Rover, snow was becoming to fall, small pellets driven before the wind.
“Any joy?” asked Elspeth.
“Nothing there,” said Hamish. “We’d best get to Braikie while we can. The forecast is bad.”
He drove north through the whitening landscape. “I forgot it could get like this,” said Elspeth. “Yesterday was so glorious that I didn’t remember that up here, you can get five climates in one day. It’s getting worse. Are you sure you can see?”
“I’m all right. But I hope the gritters get their trucks out soon.”
By the time they reached Braikie, the wind had dropped, but the snow continued to fall: large white Christmas card flakes, each one a miracle of cold lace.
At the town hall, they found that Percy was not in his office. Iona, at the switchboard, said he had stepped out half an hour ago.
They searched around Braikie in the pubs, in the café, and at the post office, but no one had seen Percy.
Their search was slowed by people recognising Elspeth and asking for autographs.
“Let’s have something to eat,” said Hamish, “and then find out where Percy lives.”
They ate mutton pies and peas in the café and then drove back to the town hall. This time, Hamish asked Jessie Cormack if she knew where Percy had gone. She shook her head and said she had not seen him that morning. But she was able to give them his address.
Percy lived with his parents in a small, grey stone house on the outskirts of Braikie. A very thin woman with dyed blonde hair answered the door. She looked in alarm at Hamish. “Is my husband all right?”
“It’s Percy I’ve come about,” said Hamish. “He isn’t in the office. Is he here?”
She shook her head. “Why are you asking about him?” she demanded. “Has he done something wrong?”
“Nothing like that. He left a message saying he had some information for me. Did he say anything to you?”
“He left this morning as usual.” Her eyes widened in fear. “These murders! Do you think something has happened to my boy?”
“No, no. I am sure he will turn up. I’ll phone you as soon as I find him.”
“No joy,” said Hamish when he joined Elspeth in the Land Rover. “Where the hell can he have gone? We’d best go back and sit in his office and see if he turns up. I’ll need to let Sonsie and Lugs out for a run first.”
“What’s the point of having a great flap on your door if you’re going to take your beasties everywhere with you?” demanded Elspeth.
“You never liked them,” complained Hamish.
“I like them fine,” said Elspeth. “But to have to look after two peculiar animals in a snowstorm when you’re supposed to be detecting is ridiculous.”
Hamish glared at her.
He let the dog and cat out of the back and stood huddled in his coat while they chased each other through the snow. At last he called them back and drove back to the town hall.
When they sat down in Percy’s office, a bad-tempered silence reigned between them. Elspeth broke it by saying, “Now we’re here, what about searching his desk?”
“Oh, all right,” said Hamish sulkily.
He began to turn over every piece of paper on top of the desk and then began to go through the drawers. “There’s something here,” he said, holding up a videotape.