Hamish Macbeth 13 (1997) - Death of a Dentist (23 page)

She looked at him for a long time in silence and then gave a little shrug. “The fact is we’d had a blazing row the night before. I went in at ten and gave him his coffee. He usually left it until it got nearly cold. I suppose that’s what gave Cody the opportunity to put poison in it. I told him I was leaving him. I was putting on my coat and just walking out. He could find another receptionist. I went round the shops, did all those things I’d told you I did, and then I thought I may as well go back and pick up the few things I’d left in the surgery.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I thought if I did you’d suspect me of the murder. But surely Cody took a great risk. I could have just walked in. Anyone could have seen him going up the stairs to the surgery.”

“We got it out of Kylie during the night when she finally broke. He had told her he was so mad with rage and passion, he didn’t care if anyone found him. At first he just meant to poison Gilchrist and walk away. He’d been up at the surgery before and knew when Gilchrist had his coffee and how he left it to get nearly cold. He said when he was finally dead, his rage would not go away and that’s why he hauled him into the chair and drilled his teeth. It was only afterwards when he realised how lucky he had been, that he began to relax. Besides Kylie said it gave him an extra hold over her. She was frightened if she told anyone, he would kill her. And with him dead, there’s no one to contradict her story. Her lawyer will get her dressed up like an innocent schoolgirl for the trial and she’ll sob and say he threatened her into silence and everyone will believe her. You obviously know Cody’s dead.”

“Yes, it was on the radio this morning.”

“They’ve got a mole at headquarters. The papers aye get something the moment it happens. Which reminds me. There’s something I’ve got to do.”

Hamish said goodbye to her and drove to the Old Timers Club where he found Tarn.

“I’m going to give you the name o’ a nice reporter on the
Inverness Daily
,” said Hamish. “Do you have a photo of Fred?”

“Aye,” said Tarn.

“Give it to the reporter with a story about Fred Sutherland, detective, about how he broke the case. I think Fred would have liked that.”

“Oh, my,” said Tarn, “he would hae been in seventh heaven.”

“I’ll write out what I want you to say,” said Hamish, “and bring it back to you.”

Hamish then went back to the dress shop and confronted Mrs. Edwardson. “Do you know that it was Charles Cody who murdered Mr. Gilchrist and Fred Sutherland?”

“Yes, I heard it on the breakfast news. Who would have thought it? Such a pillar of the community and always a pleasant word for everyone. I mean, when I saw him that morning, I didn’t think anything of it.”

“What morning?” shouted Hamish.

“There’s no need to take that tone of voice with me, officer.” She flushed a mottled red. “If you must know, he passed the shop window on the morning of the murder and I think I heard him go up the stairs.”

“You stupid auld bitch,” roared Hamish. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“One doesn’t think. I mean such a respectable man. I mean…”

“Fred Sutherland would have been alive if it hadn’t been for you,” said Hamish bleakly. He went out and slammed the door of the shop behind him.

And that, he thought, as he drove off, was what had contrived to make the case so baffling—a mixture of snobbery, amateurism and sheer luck. Cody must have thought the gods were on his side when he wasn’t accused of the murder of Gilchrist. But what passion Kylie must have fired in that respectable middle-aged bosom!

Lochdubh began to prepare for Christmas. Fairy lights were strung from the cottages to the standard lamps on the waterfront. Christmas trees appeared in cottage windows, fake Christmas trees. There were fir trees all over the surrounding hills but the housewives of Lochdubh did not want the business of vacuuming pine needles from their carpets and so there were plastic trees of silver and gold and of an improbable green.

Archie Macleod had a bright green plastic tree in his garden and was decorating it with Christmas lights as Hamish stopped for a chat.

“Not allowed to have the thing indoors, Archie?” said Hamish sympathetically.

“No, herself would neffer allow a Christmas tree but I am having this one this year. A man must take a stand sometime, Hamish.”

Hamish grinned and moved on. He quickened his pace as he passed the Currie sisters’ cottage, not wanting to be waylaid. The Currie sisters alone did not have any Christmas decorations, following the old Scottish Calvinistic belief that Christmas decorations were sinful.

He then went into Patel’s store to see if there was anything he could pick up for Christmas presents for his family in Rogart to save him a journey to Strathbane. The shop smelled of Christmas pudding and spices. He could not see anything suitable and resigned himself to the thought of a trip to Strathbane.

When he walked back to the police station, he found Jimmy Anderson waiting for him.

“I’ve brought the stuff this time,” said Jimmy, clutching two carrier bags. Hamish let him into the kitchen. Jimmy put a large turkey on the table and two bottles of whisky. “Least I could do, Hamish,” he said. “Blair tried to spoil things for me over Cody’s suicide but the super pointed out I’d done a smart bit of work and couldn’t be blamed for something the desk sergeant was guilty of. Mind you, the super’s pretty sure it was your doing but I’ve got a good success on my record and I’ll hae Blair’s job out from under his fat arse or my name isn’t Jimmy Anderson.”

“I tell you, Blair’s on the wagon these days and he’s like a bear with a sore bum.”

“Has he joined AA?”

“Do you mean the Automobile Association or Alcoholics Anonymous?”

“Alcoholics Anonymous.”

“Naw, his doctor recommended it but Blair said he wasnae going to be seen dead with a lot of God botherers.”

“Lucky for you,” said Hamish.

“Why?”

“Och, it is just that the folks who go to AA in Strathbane seem to put down the drink and take up success like ducks to water.”

“Jings, you’re right. Archie Pattock, the town drunk, him what used to be in rags and vomit, used to go about saying he was an electronics engineer, well the AA’s got hold o’ him and now he’s working for one o’ those big places over in Tayside and it turns out he was an electronics engineer right enough. Got a big car. Oh, my, I just pray Blair never gets to one o’ their damn meetings. And talking of AA, what about us opening one o’ these bottles?”

After Jimmy had left, Hamish went out again. A blazing sunset was going down over the hills and mountains. The loch was pink and gold. The fairy lights twinkled on along the length of the waterfront.

He stood breathing in the evening air scented with pine and felt at peace with the world.

And then as he looked along the waterfront, he saw Priscilla standing there, looking out at the loch. She was wearing a Christmas-red woolen coat and a tartan scarf. The lights shone on the golden bell of her hair.

Then she turned as if aware of his presence.

For one long moment, Hamish Macbeth and Priscilla Halburton-Smythe stared at each other down the length of the waterfront From the church, children’s voices were singing ‘Come All Ye Faithful.’

Then Priscilla turned on her heel and walked away, got into her car and drove off.

Hamish Macbeth was not to be forgiven.