Hamish Macbeth 17 (2001) - Death of a Dustman Read online

  She gave a little shrug and sat down. “I don’t like to seem disloyal,” she said. “Them up at the castle have been good to me.”

  “And what does that all mean?”

  “I’m starting work at the new hotel in two weeks’ time.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s all modern and posh.”

  Hamish sat down and eyed her shrewdly. “More money?”

  “Aye, a fair bit more. Anyway, what’s it to do with you where I work?”

  “Nothing. But when you don’t answer the door at first and then you lie to me, I begin to wonder what’s behind it. Look here, Heather, I have to keep asking questions and following up everything because time is passing fast and if I don’t get something today, that letter to Josie from Murdo that was found at Fergus’s cottage will have to go to the police.”

  “Now that everyone knows the wedding’s off,” said Heather, “Josie won’t mind so much.”

  “Are you sure you’re making a good move?” asked Hamish. “I mean, the Halburton-Smythes are good employers. You don’t know about this new lot.”

  “I’ve got to take a chance.”

  “But if other staff start to leave, the Halburton-Smythes may be ruined.”

  “Maybe if they put up the wages, I’ll go back.”

  “Have you looked into this thoroughly? I mean, what are the working terms? Have you any sort of contract? What happens if they suddenly decide to sack you?”

  “I’m a good worker.”

  “So there’s good pay and good benefits. How long do they give you for holidays?”

  “They said they would discuss all that sort of thing after I had started. You’ve got to see it from their point of view. They say all new staff will be on a month’s trial.”

  “Surely it’s not usual to put a hotel maid on a month’s trial?”

  “This is big business, you see,” said Heather naively. “Mr. Ionides has hotels all over the place. He says if we’re good workers, he’ll even give us a chance of working in one of his foreign hotels.”

  “I would be careful if I were you,” said Hamish, “and try to get some sort of written agreement. Tommel Castle won’t be anxious to have you back after they’ve gone to all the trouble to replace you.”

  “It’ll be fine. You should see the bedrooms. Gold taps on the bath, pink sheets on the bed. Grand, it is.”

  “And how did they approach you?”

  “I got a letter asking me to come for an interview.”

  “How did they know where you live?”

  She looked puzzled and then she said, “Oh, you know what this village is like. Everyone knows where everyone else lives.”

  “Promise me you’ll see them again and ask them for some proper arrangement.”

  A flash of Highland malice gleamed in Heather’s eyes. “We all know you have a special interest in the Halburton-Smythes.”

  “That’s enough of that,” said Hamish stiffly. “Chust take my advice.”

  §

  He left Heather’s cottage and then stood outside the garden gate, looking down at the new hotel by the harbour. He had dismissed the proprietor of the hotel from his mind because he knew Ionides had been thoroughly interviewed by detectives. Now he was suddenly anxious to see the man for himself.

  He marched down to the hotel and into the new hotel reception area. He headed for the door marked OFFICE, knocked and went in. An attractive woman was working at a computer. “Is it possible to see Mr. Ionides?” asked Hamish.

  She stopped typing. “What about?”

  “The murders, of course.”

  “Mr. Ionides is tired of his valuable time being taken up, being interviewed over two murders in this village.”

  “Nonetheless, I wish to see him.”

  She carefully saved what she had been typing on the computer and went into the inner office.

  Hamish looked around at the well-equipped secretary’s room. There were filing cabinets, fax machine, laser copy machine and three phones on the desk. The door opened and the secretary said, “He can spare you a few moments.”

  Hamish went into the inner office. Mr. Ionides rose from behind a Georgian rosewood desk. “You are…?”

  “Sergeant Hamish Macbeth of Lochdubh.”

  “Ah, yes, please sit down.”

  Hamish sank his long form down into a low chair in front of the desk. He wondered if the chair was deliberately low so that anyone facing the Greek owner would be at a psychological disadvantage.

  He studied the owner. He saw a small dapper man with smooth hair and liquid brown eyes. His chalk-striped suit was double-breasted, and he wore a red silk tie with a red silk handkerchief in his jacket pocket.

  “I am investigating the murders in Lochdubh,” began Hamish. “Have you or your staff seen any strangers in the area?”

  “I have been asked this question before,” said Mr. Ionides. “Apart from myself and Miss Stathos, no.”

  “And you plan to use local staff?”

  “That is the idea. I always use local staff.”

  “I gather you plan to take staff from the existing hotel.”

  Mr. Ionides shrugged. “Why not? I need the help and all’s fair in love and the hotel business. There’s not that many jobs going up here in the Highlands. The Tommel Castle will soon find replacements, should they need them.”

  “Why here?” asked Hamish abruptly. “Why Lochdubh?”

  “Fishing,” said Mr. Ionides simply. “I am a passionate fisherman—deep sea fishing, freshwater fishing, the lot.”

  “But the best fishing is on the River Anstey, and the colonel has the fishing rights.”

  “I can buy a permit. Now, is there anything else?”

  “I would appreciate your help. If you can think of anything or hear anything which might relate to the murders, I would be grateful.”

  “I will tell Miss Stathos to let you know. Now if you don’t mind, I have a busy schedule.”

  Hamish stared at him, his face quite vacant as he tried to think of something else. Ionides regarded him with amusement.

  Hamish then struggled out of the depths of his chair and stood up. “Thank you for your time,” he said.

  He made his way out. Once outside and back in the hotel foyer, he suddenly stood still and listened. He heard Ionides’s voice: “Anna, I think there must be inbreeding in this part of the world. That policeman looked half-witted.”

  Hamish strode out of the hotel and went straight to the station and into the office. He decided to try to find out more about Ionides. Then he remembered Chief Inspector Olivia Chater in Glasgow. He reached for the phone and then hesitated. They had worked on a case together, had an affair, but she had left him to go back to Glasgow. Still, business was business and Olivia was one of the best detectives he knew. He phoned Glasgow and asked to be put through to her. After a few moments, a man came on the line and said, “This is Detective Constable George McQueen. I gather you’re asking for Chief Detective Chater.”

  “Yes.”

  “Who are you?”

  “Sorry. I’m Sergeant Hamish Macbeth of Lochdubh in Sutherland. We worked on a case together.”

  “I’m afraid Olivia’s dead.”

  Hamish clutched the phone. “Dead?” he echoed. “What happened?”

  “Cancer.”

  “Cancer?” Hamish felt engulfed by a sad bleakness. If only she had phoned, he could have been there for her.

  “When did she die?” he asked.

  “Must have been about three months ago. I’m sorry to have to give you such bad news.”

  With a great effort, Hamish rallied. “We have two murders up here.”

  “Aye, so I heard.”

  “Now there’s a hotel owner here, Ionides. Would you have anything on him?”

  “Hang on, I’ll check the computer.”

  Hamish waited and thought miserably of Olivia. He had wanted to marry her, and yet he had forgotten her so easily.

  At last the detective came
back on the line. “There’s a smell about the man, but he’s never been charged with anything.”

  “What do you mean, ‘a smell’?”

  “Well, he wanted to buy a hotel out Aberfoyle way, but the owner didn’t want to sell. Then things started happening.”

  “Like what?”

  “The hotel had a good chef. He left and subsequently reappeared working at one of Ionides’s hotels, the one in Glasgow. Then the other staff started to disappear. Then the hotel was closed down after a health scare. Cockroaches found in the kitchen. The owner lost so much business he was forced to sell out to Ionides and at a cheap price, but we couldn’t prove anything. Then in Stirling, there was the business of the illegal immigrants. When he started up there, it was all local staff and soon after they started work, they were replaced by foreigners—Filipinos, I think they were. Got a buzz they hadn’t work permits and raided the place. Turned out to be the case. Somehow Ionides got off with it. Claimed he hadn’t known, that they had said they would supply the documents, and since they had all been recently hired, the sheriff let him off. That’s all I’ve got.”

  Hamish thanked him and rang off. If, he thought, his mind racing, Ionides had been into dirty tricks before and planned some more in Lochdubh and Fergus had found out, what a ripe source of blackmail. What had he found? A letter? Perhaps a fax. Ionides wouldn’t E-mail any planned campaign against the Tommel Castle Hotel in case his E-mail got hacked into.

  Clarry appeared and said nervously, “I’m off to do my cooking at the hotel.”

  “All right,” said Hamish absently.

  “Do you think I can do it? I’ve never cooked on a large scale before.”

  “You’ll be fine. I’ll see you later, maybe. I’ve got to talk to the colonel. Has Lugs been fed?”

  “Yes, and walked. He’s sleeping in his basket.”

  Clarry left. Hamish phoned Mr. Johnston, the manager of the Tommel Castle Hotel. “Can you give me the address of that chef who walked out on you?”

  “Wait a minute, Hamish, and I’ll look for you.”

  Hamish waited patiently. Then Mr. Johnston came back on the phone. “He’s living in that bed and breakfast, Mrs. Ryan’s, down by the bridge.”

  “Right. What’s his name?”

  “Jeff Warner.”

  Hamish thanked him and rang off.

  He got in the Land Rover and drove to Mrs. Ryan’s boarding house. Mrs. Ryan answered the door to him and said that Jeff was in his room. “Just show me which one,” said Hamish. She led the way up the narrow wooden staircase, her carpet slippers, worn down at the back, flip-flopping on the treads. “Is he in trouble?” she asked. “I keep a decent house.”

  “No, no trouble at all,” said Hamish.

  “That’s his room.”

  “Right.” Hamish knocked at the door and called, “Police.”

  A squat, burly man answered the door. He reeked of whisky. “What’s up?” he asked.

  “I chust want a word with you,” said Hamish, aware that the landlady was listening avidly.

  “Come in.”

  The room was small and sparsely furnished. There was a narrow bed in one corner covered in a pink candlewick bedspread, one easy chair, a small television set, a wardrobe and a washstand basin.

  “What d’ye want?” asked Jeff.

  “You left the Tommel Castle Hotel?”

  “So what? That a crime?”

  “I want you to tell me if you have been offered a job at the new hotel.”

  “Why?”

  Hamish was tired and Hamish was hungry. “Chust tell me!” he shouted.

  “Och, well, what’s the harm in it? I’m a good chef and the new lot offered me more money.”

  “But the new hotel isn’t open yet.”

  “Aye, but they’re paying me until I start, and it’s a damn sight more than that tight-arsed colonel was giving me.”

  “I want you to come down to the station tomorrow morning to make a statement to that effect.”

  “Whit is this, man? I mean, whit’s wrong wi’ me wanting a better job?”

  “Chust do as you are told.”

  “Oh, all right. But it seems daft to me.” Hamish left him and went out to the Land Rover. He was about to climb in when he suddenly froze. Pink. The thread he had taken from the fence at the Curries’ had been pink. Heather had said there were pink sheets in the new hotel rooms. Jeff’s bedspread had been pink. Then he climbed in. Colonel Halburton-Smythe was going to have to talk.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,

  Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,

  To the last syllable of recorded time;

  And all our yesterdays have lighted fools

  The way to dusty death.

  —William Shakespeare

  As Hamish returned to the police station, he could hear a whirring sound coming closer. He shielded his eyes and looked up at the sky. A helicopter was coming in to land behind the hotel. There was only the pilot in it.

  He phoned Jimmy Anderson. “Look, there’s been a bit of a new development. Is there any chance of getting a search warrant for the new hotel?”

  “You’d need a rock solid reason. What is it?”

  “It’s just that I’ve been given the impression that Fergus thought he was onto big money, and the only big money around is Ionides, the new owner.”

  “And that’s all you’ve got?”

  “Well, not only that, but he’s got a shady record.”

  “But nothing criminal. We went into all that. I told you, Hamish, you’re that desperate it should turn out to be an outsider that you’re clutching at straws. The answer is no, sonny, and there’s something else you should be thinking of.”

  “What’s that?”

  “If he thought he had a big cheese to blackmail, why aren’t you thinking of Colonel Halburton-Smythe?”

  Hamish fell silent.

  “Well?” demanded Jimmy. “Or is it that your girl friend’s father is beyond suspicion?”

  “She’s not my girl friend,” said Hamish hotly. “I am looking into all aspects of the case, that’s all.”

  “Get me something concrete on Ionides, and I’ll have your search warrant. There’s something wrong about you and this case, Hamish. I think your mind’s beginning to wander. Not holding out on me, are you?”

  “No, no,” lied Hamish, now anxious to get off the phone. “I’ll let you know if there’s anything further.”

  He sat chewing his knuckles in a sudden fit of nerves. What if he really was clutching at straws? What if Priscilla’s father should turn out to be guilty?

  There was a knock at the kitchen door. Hamish went to answer it, sure that it would not turn out to be any stranger. They always knocked at the front door.

  Josie Darling was standing there when he opened it.

  “What is it?” asked Hamish.

  “Can I come in?”

  He stood back. She hobbled into the kitchen on stiletto heels and sat down in a chair. “You’ve been asking people if they remembered anything?”

  “Aye.”

  “Well, I didn’t think much of it cos I was so terrified about everyone finding out about me and Murdo. But there was one little thing.”

  “What?”

  “I was down on the waterfront…”

  “When?”

  “Two days before Fergus disappeared.”

  “And…”

  “I saw him with Callum McSween.”

  “So?”

  “He was jeering at Callum and saying he knew Callum would soon be broke, and Fergus was bragging about his new salary and saying that he bet Callum would like some money like that, and Callum said, “Get away from me or I’ll break your neck.””

  “And you never thought to tell me afore this!”

  “Like I said, I was frightened that folks would find out my wedding was off. I remembered and told Mother, and Mother said it was funny Callum hadn’t gone for work at
the new hotel like a lot of other people because they were paying labourers good money.”

  “Thanks, Josie, I’ll look into it.”

  “Do you think Callum killed Fergus for his job?”

  “I doubt it. Callum was recommended by me. But I’ll have a word with him. He should have told me about the row with Fergus.”

  Hamish saw her out. Then he got into the Land Rover and drove up to Callum’s croft.

  Callum and his wife were sitting in their kitchen eating steak and chips. The kitchen door was open so Hamish walked in.

  “Welcome, Hamish,” said Callum. “Would you like some food?”

  Hamish’s stomach gave another rumble. “No, I’m in a hurry. I’ve got an appointment.”

  “So what brings you? Sit down, man, and take the weight off your feet.”

  Hamish removed his peaked cap and sat down.

  “Callum, why didn’t you tell me you had a row with Fergus?”

  Callum looked awkward. “Care for a dram?”

  “No, Callum. What was it about, and why didn’t you tell me?”

  Callum looked down at the table and pushed his food around his plate with his fork.

  “Somehow he’d found out I was in financial trouble, and he knew I’d failed to get a job at the hotel.”

  “Wait a bit. You didn’t get a job at the new hotel? Why? A lot of it is chust plain labouring.”

  “I don’t know why. I was interviewed by that Greek.”

  “Ionides?”

  “Yes, him.”

  “Funny, you’d think he’d have a manager or have got that secretary of his to do the hiring.”

  “It was himself. And he said he was pleased to be giving work to the locals knowing how we’d all suffered with the drop in the price of sheep.”

  “And then?”

  “He said he didn’t want any of the carpets or furnishings or building materials wandering off. He said he knew us Highlanders had a reputation for theft. I got a wee bit angry. I said I had never taken anything in my life that didn’t belong to me. I said if there was one thing I couldn’t stand, it wass a crook. I said, furthermore, if I knew of anyone getting up to any crookery. I would report that man to the police.”

  “And he said?”

  “He said he had other people to see, and he would let me know. I wrote down my name, address and phone number. I neffer heard a word after that. I went to the hotel and that Miss Stathos told me they already had enough employees. Man, I wass sick to my stomach. When you got me the dustman’s job, it seemed like a miracle.”