Death of a Liar (17 page)

They were all ushered to a table for four. A waiter came hurrying up with a bottle of champagne. “Compliments of the management,” he said.

“We'd only arrived a few minutes before you,” said Christine. “We'll talk after we order, yes?”

Hamish leaned forward and whispered to Angela, “Remember, I'm not paying for this, so order anything you want.”

Angela smiled up at him. That smile of Angela's transformed her face.

Hamish had thought nouvelle cuisine with all its decorated pawky portions had gone out of fashion. Angela had ordered scallops but only got two decorated with rocket. Hamish's venison pâté was a small cube with a sliver of toast. Christine and Phil had both ordered prawns Marie Rose, which came in small metal bowls of the kind that used to be used in ice cream parlours. Angela said to Hamish that she would confine herself to one glass of champagne, as she was driving.

Phil and Hamish were soon deep in conversation. “Have you known Hamish long?” asked Christine.

“Yes. I live in Lochdubh,” said Angela.

“And do you and Hamish often go out together?”

“Sometimes. When my husband is away, of course,” said Angela innocently.

So the rumours of Hamish being a philanderer were true, thought Christine. Thank goodness she had never taken him all that seriously.

Christine could sense a closeness between Angela and Hamish, not knowing that closeness was caused by friendship.

The door opened and the Currie sisters walked in, the candlelight shining on their thick glasses.

At first, they looked taken back to see Christine and Phil as well as Hamish and Angela. But Nessie knew where her duty lay.

“You should be ashamed of yourself, Mrs. Brodie,” she said in a loud voice.

“Ashamed. Brodie,” chorused her sister.

“I am simply trying to enjoy a dinner with Hamish and his friends,” said Angela.

“‘As water spilt upon the ground, that cannot be gathered up,' so it is with your reputation,” said Nessie.

“Reputation,” intoned Jessie.

Hamish took out his phone and called Dr. Brodie on his mobile. “Talk some sense into the Currie sisters,” he said. “They've just arrived in the restaurant to accuse poor Angela of having an affair with me.”

“Oh, let me speak to them,” said Dr. Brodie.

Hamish handed the phone to Nessie. Hamish heard her exclaim, “You knew?”

When Nessie finally rang off, Hamish said severely, “I think the pair of you should go home and scrub your brains out with soap.”

But Nessie was not to be defeated. “I've heard of wife swapping,” she said, “but what's worse, Macbeth, is you haven't even got a wife to swap.”

“Outside!” ordered Hamish, and thrusting them before him, he got them out of the restaurant.

“You'll be hearing from my lawyer,” he said to Nessie.

Nessie quailed. She knew she had gone too far.

“I felt it was my Christian duty to save Mrs. Brodie's reputation.”

Hamish ignored her sister's bleating chorus. “The only people damaging Angela's reputation and mine are you and your sister.”

“No lawyer,” said Nessie in a frightened voice. “We'll go back in and apologise.”

“
No!
Chust go away!”

When Hamish went back in and sat down, Phil said, “And here's me thinking that life in a highland village would be quiet and peaceful. But it's all murder and mayhem and madwomen.” He turned to Angela. “How does it feel to be a scarlet woman?”

“It's rather fun,” said Angela. “But surely you have a lot of excitement in a big city like Aberdeen.”

Phil began to tell several very amusing stories. Hamish had ordered fillet of sea bass. He got what he estimated to be half a fillet, three boiled potatoes decorated with parsley, and half a tomato.

“Excuse me,” he said. He picked up his plate and went into the kitchen where Hugo was sitting at a table in the corner. “Look at this wee bittie o' fish,” said Hamish. “Are you trying to starve me?”

“It's the new chef. He says folk like artistic food.”

“I didnae see any locals in the dining room,” said Hamish. “Come the winter, you'll find you'll get few customers unless you feed them. I know I shouldnae complain, seeing as I'm not paying, but you do need some advice.”

Hamish returned to the table and moodily ate his fish.

But Hugo had taken Hamish's words to heart. The cheese board when it appeared was enormous. There was a presentation bottle of port.

“I hate to sound like a policeman,” said Hamish. “But are you and Christine going to drive?”

“No, we booked rooms at the local hotel. We can walk along.”

Hearing that Angela was a writer, Phil began to question her about her books.

Hamish turned to Christine. “I gather there's been no sign of Dubois's body?”

“No. They searched and searched. But the coastguard people say that the currents off those cliffs are so strong, the body could be halfway to America by now.”

Hamish felt happy and slightly tipsy on the road home. For the first time since Dick had left, he really began to relish the idea of having his station all to himself.

He got out of Angela's car and strolled towards the police station. Then he stopped and frowned. His usual parking place at the side of the restaurant was blocked by a large, dusty Jeep Cherokee. He approached cautiously, wishing he were in uniform and had his belt with the stun gun on it with him.

He looked in the driver's window. A giant of a fair-haired policeman was asleep at the wheel.

Hamish rapped on the window. The policeman started awake, opened the car door, and got out. Hamish was six feet, five inches in height. He estimated this giant topped him by a couple of inches.

He beamed at Hamish. “Charlie Carter, sir.”

“What's happened?” asked Hamish.

“Didn't they tell you? I'm your new policeman.”

“No, they didn't,” said Hamish. “You'd best come in until we discuss it.”

In the light of the kitchen, Charlie was revealed as having broad shoulders and very large hands and feet. He had a big head, thick fair hair, and bright-blue eyes in a square pleasant face.

“Sit down,” said Hamish, feeling crowded. Charlie sat down, and the chair creaked under his weight. The flap on the kitchen door opened and Sonsie and Lugs slouched in. To Hamish's surprise, they paid no attention to the newcomer. A wild cat and a dog with large ears and blue eyes made a strange pair, but Charlie did not seem to find them odd.

“So,” said Hamish, sitting down opposite Charlie, “how long have you been in the force?”

“A week,” said Charlie. “I left the Scottish Police College and got a posting to Strathbane.” His voice had the soft fluting tones of the Outer Hebrides.

“Do you know why they sent you here?”

“They said you were in need of a policeman,” said Charlie.

“Dick Fraser, the policeman who was here before, left his bed and some furnishings, but I doubt if the bed will be big enough for you.”

“I'm good at the carpentry,” said Charlie. “I'm sure I can fix something.”

“Well, bring your things in and we'll see you settled.”

Charlie stood up and snagged his head against the overhanging lightbulb, knocking it out of its shade and plunging the kitchen into darkness.

“Oh, I'm sorry.” He trod on Hamish's toes and Hamish let out a yelp of pain. “Go away!” said Hamish. “I'll fix the light.”

When Charlie eventually went to bed for the night, Hamish stood outside the police station and phoned Jimmy. “Whassamatter?” demanded Jimmy. “You woke me up.”

“Tell me about Charlie Carter.

Jimmy began to laugh. “Clumsy Charlie. He tipped a cup of hot coffee into Blair's lap, he tripped over his large feet and crashed into one of the computers and broke it, a drawer on one of the old filing cabinets was stuck and he jerked it open so hard that the whole cabinet fell on him, he…”

“Enough,” said Hamish. “I'll figure out a way to get rid of him.”

“Mind you,” said Jimmy, “he graduated police college at the top o' the class.”

But the next day found Hamish warming to the large police­man. He was so good-natured. His clumsiness did not extend to animals and he deftly helped Hamish dip his sheep. Sonsie and Lugs seemed to adore him.

Hamish then took him round the village and introduced him to various people. At one point, Charlie paused and looked over the shining sea loch and then at the row of whitewashed cottages along the waterfront.

“This is paradise,” he said.

He'll do, thought Hamish happily.

But something happened that made him decide the tall policeman had to go.

The following day, he told Charlie to look after the station because he was going up to Cromish to find out if Samantha was all right.

Charlie said the front garden needed a bit of weeding and he would pass the time doing that.

Shortly after Hamish had left, he heard a female voice outside shouting, “Anybody home?”

He lumbered round to the kitchen door and stood there with his mouth open looking down at Priscilla.

“Have I a spot on my nose or something?” demanded Priscilla.

“Oh, no,” breathed Charlie. “I've never seen a lady as beautiful as you off the television.”

Priscilla smiled up at Charlie. “I came to see Hamish.”

“He's gone up to Cromish.”

“I was going to take him to lunch.” Charlie was standing holding a trowel. He was not in uniform.

“Never tell me Hamish has employed a gardener,” said Priscilla.

“No. I'm his new policeman.”

“Well, welcome to Lochdubh. I tell you what, I'll take you to lunch instead.”

“I'll just give myself a wash and be with you,” said Charlie happily.

In the Italian restaurant, Charlie pulled out Priscilla's chair as she was about to sit down. Unfortunately, he pulled it out too far and she fell on the floor. He picked Priscilla up in his arms, hooked the chair upright, and sat her down.

He sat down opposite, his face flaming. “I'm right sorry.” He waved his arms and sent the water jug crashing onto the floor.

More flustered apologies and a lecture from waiter Willie Lamont.

Priscilla thought Charlie as like a big child. She asked him questions about his family. He said his father was a crofter in Lewis and that his mother was dead. He had no brothers or sisters. All the time, he gazed at Priscilla with such open admiration that she began to feel he was the nicest man she had met in ages.

She asked him how he was settling in at the police station and he said it was fine but that he would have to get to work on the bed because it was too small.

“I seem to remember,” said Priscilla, “that we have a long single bed down in one of the storerooms at the hotel. If it's still there, you can have it.”

Willie Lamont uneasily watched the couple. He went back into the kitchen and said to his wife, Lucia, “I should phone Hamish. Thon new copper's a right canosovas.”

“A Casanova, you mean,” said Lucia. “Leave them alone.”

By the time the meal was over and the bed had been found for Charlie and delivered to the police station, Priscilla and Charlie were firm friends.

In Cromish, Hamish found Samantha's cottage was empty; there was a
FOR SALE
board outside. He called on Dr. Williams.

“She left yesterday,” said the doctor. “I should have known the woman wasn't right in the head. But she seduced me and I'd been celibate a long time. You know how it is.”

“I do indeed,” said Hamish bitterly. “Have you contacted the seer's niece?”

“Not yet. Maybe not. I don't like being manipulated. How are things with you?”

“I've been given a new policeman. He's a clumsy sort of giant but he's kind and a hard worker. Makes a change from Dick Fraser, my former copper. I hope this one doesn't desert me for food. My first policeman married the daughter of a restaurant owner and now waits table, the second is chef at the Tommel Castle Hotel, and the last one, Dick Fraser who you met, is running a bakery in Braikie.”

“Does the latest one show any signs of liking to cook?”

“No, I'm back to cooking the meals. I'll drop by the shop and get some baps to take back with me.”

“Next time you see Angus Macdonald, tell him from me that he's a bastard.”

“Will do.”

When Hamish returned in the afternoon, he heard hammering coming from the back of the police station and went to look at what was happening.

“I'm just dismantling this bed,” said Charlie. “Priscilla gave me a new one.”

“How did you meet Priscilla?”

“She came to ask you to lunch but took me instead,” said Charlie. “What a beauty! Then she took me up to the hotel and got me this nice long bed out of storage.”

From that moment, it seemed to poor Charlie that the normally amiable Hamish had taken a dislike to him. Nerves made him clumsier than ever.

The next morning, Hamish gave him a list of places to visit on the extensive beat of Sutherland, and when Charlie had driven off, Hamish went up to the Tommel Castle Hotel.

Priscilla was in the gift shop, helping the assistant open boxes of newly arrived goods. She smiled at Hamish and said, “Come over to the hotel. I could do with a coffee.”

Once they were seated in a corner of the hotel lounge, Priscilla immediately began to sing Charlie's praises. “You're so lucky, Hamish, to have such a good-natured sidekick.”

“He's too clumsy, Priscilla. He'll have to go.”

“Oh, Hamish. That would be so cruel. He loves it here.”

“I don't love him here. The police station is not big enough to have an ox like Charlie blundering about.”