Part 6 (1/2)
”Why?”
”He kept accusing me of having loose morals and he hurt me by his constant criticism of what he called my dizzy mind, so I decided to get my revenge. The laugh is that I was faithful to him right up till the divorce.”
”Then why try to get me into bed?”
”Oh, well, I thought if I did that, there would be a certain something between us and John would notice...”
Her voice trailed away.
”I'm not going to discuss this any further,” said Hamish. ”I am here to do a job and I didn't do it very well by letting you wander off on your own. I'll go into the village tomorrow and report it to the local policeman. I couldn't phone tonight. The man would be drunk as usual. Have you any idea if it was a man or a woman who pushed you?”
Jane shook her head.
”The pillbox is quite near the hotel. Haven't you seen anyone coming and going-using it?”
”Oh, yes,” said Jane, ”some little man.”
”Description?”
Jane shrugged. ”They all look the same to me, small and bitter and prematurely old.”
”So you do know there's a lot of hostility against you on this island? Why on earth do you stay amidst such hatred?”
”Hamish, I barely see them, and they're cheerful enough when the health farm opens up to visitors because it means cleaning and serving jobs for the local women. They never did like me. There's been a sort of intense hatred started up just recently.”
”The Bannerman woman?”
”I can't see how she can have anything to do with it. She's always been one of the women who've actually talked to me when I've gone into the village. Look, Hamish, I've made a success of this place. People who wouldn't dream of going to a health farm in the home counties come up here. It has a romantic interest and I attract walkers and outdoor types as well as those who want to lose weight. I showed that ex-husband of mine I could do it and made him eat his words.”
”I'll let you know how I get on with my investigations tomorrow,” said Hamish. ”Goodnight.”
She threw him a look, half-mocking and half-appealing. One hand toyed with the long zip at the top of her housecoat and Hamish was frightened she meant to pull it down and fairly scampered from the room.
The next day, he made his way towards the village. He had hoped Harriet might have wanted to accompany him, but that lady had gone out walking with Heather, of all people.
Once again, he came across Geordie and his truck stuck on the road, Geordie, Hamish had decided, staged these breakdowns for some mad reason of his own, and so he ignored Geordie's meanings and waitings and offered to drive him: He had been unable to borrow Jane's jeep because it was insured to cover only her driving.
The truck started amiably enough. ”He likes you,” said Geordie, shaking his head. ”An odd beast.”
”Forget about the truck,” said Hamish. ”Who uses that pillbox on the beach?”
”Angus Macleod. Him and his son have a fis.h.i.+ng boat. It wa.s.s the wan that brought yourselfs over.”
”Well, last night, someone pushed Mrs. Wetherby into that pillbox and bolted the door. She could have died of exposure.”
”Och, it's all right,” said Geordie. ”Angus wa.s.s in the bar last night and he wa.s.s saying he would let herself out at midnight when he had given her a rare fright.”
”I'll be seeing Angus, then,” said Hamish grimly.
”Ye won't be able to dae that. Himself took the boat out this morn.”
Hamish stopped the truck. Geordie screeched, ”He dis-nae like tae be stopped fur no reason at all.”
”Forget the truck. Listen. Do you hate Mrs. Wetherby?”
”Naw, I hivnae the time to hate anybody what with bringing the lobsters over frae the west and collecting the goods for people to deliver when the ferry comes in.”
”Well, she's hated nonetheless. When did it start?”
”Och, n.o.body likes incomers, and the wimmen are fair scandalized with the leg show she puts on, but it must hae been recently they all started cursing and blinding. Don't know what started it.”
”Well, I'll find out.” Hamish turned the key in the ignition. Nothing happened, not even a choke. ”I telt you he didnae liked to be stopped fur no reason,” said Geordie patiently.
”I'm fed up wi' your nonsense.” Hamish opened the door. ”I'm walking.”
He slammed the door behind him and strode off down the road. ”Comeback!” screeched Geordie's voice. ”He's following you!”
Hamish turned around, and with a feeling of superst.i.tious dread, he saw the truck rolling silently towards him. He stopped and the truck stopped beside him. He climbed in, checked the brakes, turned the key in the ignition, and the engine roared to life.
He drove silently into Skulag, vowing that once he had a bit of time, he would find a mechanic to check Geordie's truck.
The police station was locked. Hamish leaned on the bell for a considerable time until at last the blear-eyed constable, still in his pyjamas, answered the door.
”And they call me lazy!” marvelled Hamish.
”What d'ye want?” growled Sandy.
”I want you to put on your uniform and go and charge Angus Macleod with a.s.sault.”
”He's awa'.”
”Well, when he comes back.”
Sandy looked at him with contempt. ”You mean, for pus.h.i.+ng thon Wetherby woman into the pillbox? That's naethin's but mischief. Look, Macbeth, I'm no' going tae arrest anyone. When I first got here, I arrested two o' the fishermen for stealing the council's wire wastebaskets off the jetty to use as lobster pots. The islanders gathered around the polis station calling for ma' blood and I had to climb out on the roof and sit there most o' the night. If you think I'm arresting Angus for a little bit o' fun, think again.” He slammed the police station door in Hamish's face.
Hamish strolled thoughtfully along the jetty. He could phone Strathbane and report Sandy, but he did not want to do that. There would be a full-scale inquiry and he, Hamish, would be made to look ridiculous. Besides, all the islanders, he was sure, would gang up and swear Angus had been with them all day. He saw one of the fishermen, and remembering Geordie's truck, asked him if there was a mechanic on the island...
The man stood for a long time and then decided to reply. ”There's Bert Macleod down the village! He does the MOTs and things like that,” meaning the annual Ministry of Transport checks on all vehicles over three years old.
”And where does he live?”
”Opposite Mrs. Bannerman.”
Hamish walked along the village street, all too aware of the twitching curtains. Mrs. Bannerman was working in her patch of front garden. She saw him and scurried inside.
Opposite her house on the other side of the street was a cottage with a shed at the side, with the legend A. J. MACLEOD, MOTOR MECHANIC A. J. MACLEOD, MOTOR MECHANIC, above the door.
He went inside. There was a pair of legs in greasy overalls sticking out from under a car.