“Maybe Percy’s back at the police station waiting for you,” said Elspeth.

“I’ve got a video recorder. I’ll just be leaving a receipt for this.”

“I didn’t think anyone had video recorders any more,” said Elspeth.

“Well, now you know.”

Chapter Nine

Back at the police station, Hamish, after he had lit the stove, said, “I’ll make us a cup of coffee and then we’ll have a look at this video. Strathbane won’t get out the men to look for Percy because they say he’s probably gone off somewhere with friends. I’ll just need to hope he’s all right and start searching in the morning.”

The lights went out. “Damn,” said Hamish. “The snow must have brought a cable down.”

“I saw a face peering in at the window when the lights went out!” Elspeth exclaimed.

Hamish ran outside with the dog and cat at his heels. The snow had stopped, but it was freezing hard. He could hear it crunching under the feet of someone fleeing over the hill at the back. He set off in pursuit and brought the fleeing figure down in a rugby tackle.

“It’s me, Josie,” squeaked a frightened voice from under him.

Hamish pulled her to her feet. “What were you doing looking in at the kitchen window?” he demanded.

“I wanted to see what your instructions were for tomorrow,” said Josie, close to tears. “I heard voices and thought I would look in the window and see if you were busy.”

“You could have knocked,” said Hamish angrily. “Get back to the manse and wait there until I phone you in the morning.”

Hamish returned to the station. Elspeth had lit a hurricane lamp and placed it on the kitchen table.

“Who was it?” she asked.

“It was Josie McSween, my copper. She was running off up the back way. She said she heard voices and wanted to see who it was.”

“Is she stalking you, Hamish? Where is she living?”

“Over at the manse.”

“So what’s she doing ploughing through the snow over the back way when she could have come round by the road?”

“She’s a bit daft, that’s all. It looks as if we aren’t going to have a chance to see thon video.”

“The hotel’s got a generator.”

“So it has. Let’s go.”

Hamish put out the lamp and lit a torch. “Hamish!” exclaimed Elspeth. “You don’t have to let Sonsie and Lugs come with you. Leave them here for once. The kitchen’s nice and warm.

“You can’t go on with those beasts chained to you,” she continued. “What woman would put up with rivals such as these?”

“You were aye jeering at them!”

“Don’t let’s quarrel,” said Elspeth. “Let’s get to the hotel.”

They were about to drive off when the Currie sisters appeared, standing in the glare of the headlights and waving their arms. Hamish lowered the window. “What’s up?”

“Tell Miss Grant the press are all at the hotel waiting for her,” called Nessie.

“Waiting for her,” chorused Jessie.

“Thanks,” said Hamish.

He turned to Elspeth. “They’ll all be in the bar. We’ll park at the side and go in through the kitchen door.”

The chef, Clarry, was sitting reading a newspaper when they entered the hotel kitchen.

“Evening, Hamish,” he said. “I thought you pair might come in this way. Take the back stairs and the press won’t see you. I’ll send the boy up with some sandwiches. I’ve got some bones for Lugs and a bit o’ fish for Sonsie. You can leave them here in the kitchen.”

“She wouldnae let me bring them,” said Hamish.

“Well, call in on your road out and I’ll pack them up for ye.”

Elspeth and Hamish made their way up the back stairs to Elspeth’s room.

“Right,” said Hamish. “Let’s see what’s on this video.”

He switched on the television set and slid in the video.

It was a film of Annie being crowned Lammas queen. How faraway that sunny day appeared now! There he was, standing just below the platform. The provost raised the crown and placed it on Annie’s head. She smiled triumphantly. Her two attendants were Jessie Cormack and Iona Sinclair. Jessie was glaring at Annie.

The film ran on. Percy had followed the procession through the town.

“Do you notice anything?” he asked Elspeth as he went to answer the door and receive a tray of food and coffee.

“It all looks ordinary,” said Elspeth.

“Wait a bit,” said Hamish. “Run it back a little. Stop! There! That’s Jake from the disco. He’s passing up a little package to her. Bastard! Dealing drugs right in the middle of what should ha’ been an innocent day.”

“Yes, but he’s dead,” said Elspeth. “I’m starving. Let’s have something to eat and look through the tape again.”

“I hope Percy’s all right,” Hamish fretted. He picked up the phone by the bed and called Percy’s mother.

“He hasn’t come home,” she wailed. “Where’s my boy?”

“We’ll have a search party out in the morning,” said Hamish. “I’ll call as soon as I hear anything.”

He then phoned Jimmy and explained the situation. “It’s urgent, Jimmy,” said Hamish. “Percy said he’d remembered something. Now he’s missing.”

“Can’t do anything tonight, Hamish.”

“I don’t think I should wait until the morning, Jimmy. Maybe I’ll get over to Braikie and begin to look. I’ll take McSween with me.”

When he rang off, he said to Elspeth, “It’s a right pity. I would ha’ preferred your company, but the press’ll be hounding you from now on.”

“I know,” said Elspeth sadly. “I’d better stop running away. I’ll get back to Glasgow tomorrow where I’ve got a press agent to cope with the lot of them. I shouldn’t have run away.”

Hamish ejected the video. “When will you be back, Elspeth?”

“I don’t know, Hamish. Maybe I’ll spend my next holidays up here.”

He bent his head to kiss her but the phone rang. Elspeth swore under her breath. She picked it up and then slammed it down again. Then she phoned reception and ordered that no calls were to be put through to her room.

Hamish hesitated in the doorway. “I’d better pack,” said Elspeth, heaving her suitcase on the bed.

He felt he did not have the courage now to try to kiss her.

“You can’t want a wee lassie like Josie to go out in this freezing cold,” protested Mrs. Wellington when he arrived at the manse.

“It’s her duty,” said Hamish. “Go and get her.”

Grumbling under her breath, Mrs. Wellington climbed the stairs to Josie’s room and opened the door. The room was in darkness and there was a powerful reek of whisky. She switched on the light. Josie lay on the bed, fully dressed. She was snoring loudly. An empty whisky bottle lay on the floor beside the bed.

It’s that Hamish Macbeth, thought Mrs. Wellington. He’s driven the poor lassie to the bottle. I’ll sort her out in the morning.

She went back downstairs. “Josie is very unwell,” she said. “She has a bad cold and should rest.”

“I’ll see her tomorrow,” said Hamish, thinking bitterly that Josie was absolutely useless.

Mrs. Wellington picked up the phone book and scanned the pages. Then she dialled a number. “Alcoholics Anonymous?” she asked. “When and where is your next meeting?”

The roads had been salted and gritted, and the Sutherland landscape lay dreaming whitely under a thick canopy of snow.

Hamish wondered where to start. He stopped in the main street in Braikie and checked his notebook for a list of phone numbers and addresses. He found the name Jessie Cormack. She lived with her parents in a flat above a greengrocer in a lane just off the main street.

He got out and walked there. He mounted the worn stone steps leading up from the street and rang the bell.