Death of a Kingfisher (18 page)

It was hard to believe that the tranquil setting had been witness to such violence. Poor Mary. Thief she might have been, but he hated to think of her poor body lying under the water. What an odd attraction she had been with those wide blue eyes, curvaceous figure, and that delicate scent she wore.

Back at the police station, he said to Dick, ‘I hope we can hang on here. They’re still closing police stations all over the north.’

‘Och,’ said Dick comfortably, ‘let’s not think about things that make us miserable. I’m going to sit in the garden. Coming?’

‘I’ll just take my beasties for a walk.’

With Sonsie and Lugs at his heels, he strolled along the waterfront. Everything was back to normal. No press and very few visitors. Just the way he liked it. And yet, he could not feel the case was closed. He would always
wonder if the Palfours had been responsible for the death of the Russian.

Angela Brodie came up to join him as he leaned on the waterfront.

‘Nice that everything is back to normal,’ she said.

Hamish scowled at the blue waters of the loch. ‘I wish I could feel that. It’s those Palfours. They’re a loose end, and I don’t like loose ends.’

Olivia and Charles were at that moment talking about him. ‘When the holidays come around,’ said Charles, ‘why don’t we take a trip to Scotland?’

‘Bad idea,’ said Olivia. ‘I bet that policeman, Macbeth, suspected us. I know he did.’

‘What can he find out now?’ asked Charles.

‘Well, maybe, I’ll think about it.’

‘Are you sure you aren’t demonizing them?’ Angela was asking. ‘I mean, with parents like theirs and that abuse at the school they went to in England, they must have been a bit warped, but I’m sure that’s all.’

‘I wish I could believe that.’

Angela laughed. ‘Why don’t you ask the fairies for help?’

‘The horrible business all started with superstition,’ said Hamish. ‘If old Mrs Colchester hadn’t believed in fairies, she wouldn’t have been tricked. She would never have taken her valuables down to the pool for Mary to collect. She would never have made that will.’

‘I’d better get home and get lunch on,’ said Angela.

Hamish watched her go and then turned back and looked at the loch. He said out loud, ‘Fairies, be damned. There are no such things as fairies!’

A sudden wind whistled down the loch, and black clouds streamed in from the west. Dust and debris scurried
around his feet, making odd whispering noises. The air was cold.

Calling to his animals, he hurried back to the police station, went in, and slammed the door.

He was just putting the kettle on when Dick came in from the garden. ‘You should come outside,’ he said. ‘It’s a grand day.’

‘Nonsense, it’s just turned cold.’

‘Come out and see.’

Hamish went out to the garden and looked over the hedge. The sky was blue and the sun shone down.

‘If I were a religious man, I’d cross myself,’ he said.

‘What’s that?’ asked Dick.

‘Never mind,’ said Hamish Macbeth.

 
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Death of a Celebrity

Death of a Village

Death of a Poison Pen

Death of a Bore

Death of a Dreamer

Death of a Maid

Death of a Gentle Lady

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Death of a Valentine

Death of a Sweep

Death of a Kingfisher