Part 10 (1/2)
”I have not heard from Miss Halburton-Smythe,” said Hamish stiffly.
”Such a beautiful girl,” said Nessie.
”Beautiful,” said Jessie.
”Was engaged to Hamish here, but he didnae appreciate her.”
”Appreciate her.”
”And went to foreign parts.”
”Foreign parts.”
”To hide a broken heart.”
”Broken heart.”
”Havers!” shouted Hamish, exasperated. ”I thank you kindly for the lettuce, but I am chust about to prepare dinner.”
”We're going, going,” said Jessie huffily.
Hamish ushered them out.
”Sorry about that,” he said.
Sheila grinned. ”Who is this Miss Halburton-Smythe? Anything to do with the Tommel Castle Hotel?”
”Her father owns it, we were engaged once, didn't work, end of story. I'll get the food.”
When they were seated in the kitchen with the stove now damped down and the door and window open to the evening air, Sheila said, ”It amazes me that it hardly ever gets dark up here.”
”The nights are beginning to draw in all the same,” said Hamish. ”In June it's light all night.”
”At least we'll be finished and out of here by the winter,” said Sheila with a reminiscent s.h.i.+ver.
”It wa.s.s unusual, all that snow,” said Hamish, but thinking uneasily instead of that plastic bag at the bottom of his wardrobe. His accent, as usual, increased in sibilancy when he was upset. ”To get back to Penelope Gates, she's employed by the television company. Why doesn't the director or whateffer chust tell her to do her job and cut the histrionics?”
”She's the star of the show, and stars, however small they might be, can rule the roost.”
”Is she on anything?” asked Hamish, remembering the pot-smoking Fiona. ”Uppers or anything?”
”No, I think she was kept down by Josh, and now he's gone, she's bursting out all over the place.”
”In every sense of the word, I suppose,” said Hamish. ”Unless the naughty scenes have been cut.”
”No, they're still in. She seduces the chief inspector tomorrow. They've built a bedroom set in the castle, four-poster and all that. But it'll be away from the eyes of the villagers.”
”A good thing, too,” said Hamish. ”The minister would have something to say about it.”
”I gather the minister's wife, Eileen, is making a film of her own.”
”That crushed wee woman! I don't believe it.”
”Fact. One of the village women told me. Eileen wrote a play when she was at university. They're performing that, and Eileen's filming it with her camcorder.”
”And what does the minister have to say?”
”He seems pleased. He doesn't like us TV people being back, but Fiona gave him a generous donation to the church. This chicken is very good. Just as a matter of interest, what's Patricia doing?”
”She's writing again.”
”Where was she on the day Jamie got killed?”
”Out walking, she says.”
”I had her down as the murderess,” said Sheila. ”She was so outraged. She's got a medieval kind efface. I could imagine her being quite ruthless.”
”If she was ruthless,” said Hamish, ”she would have found some hot-shot lawyer to try to break the terms of her contract.”
”You may be right.”
Hamish surveyed her. ”You definitely don't think Josh murdered Jamie.”
”I'm fantasising,” said Sheila. ”Read too many detective stories. I suppose the police know what they're doing.”
Hamish said nothing, but he wondered whether Strathbane police, because of pressure from the media, had not jumped too thankfully to the easiest conclusion.
”I'm sorry I havenae any wine to go with the meal,” he said.
”That's why I'm here,” said Sheila. ”The dinners at the hotel get a bit boozy.”
”So tell me about yourself. How did you get into the television business?”
”I went to college in New York, in Was.h.i.+ngton Square in the Village, to learn all about filming. I did a short film and won the Helena Rubinstein prize. I was homesick, so as soon as I finished the course, I returned to Glasgow and applied for a job on Strathclyde Television. They said I should start at the bottom and learn the ropes. I've been there two years and I'm still at the bottom, fetching and carrying and making coffee, fixing hotels, driving that minibus around.”
”So why don't you try the BBC or ITV or maybe one of the cable channels?”
”Because I'm suddenly sick of the whole business. I think I might take a computing course. I'm interested in computer graphics.”
”All the beautiful girls end up studying computers,” said Hamish.
”Is that what took Miss Halburton-Smythe away?”
”Yes,” he said curtly. ”More coffee?”
Sheila wished she hadn't made that remark. There was a certain chill in the air which had nothing to do with the weather.
When she had finished her coffee, Hamish said, ”Now if you don't mind, I'd better get on with that report.”