Death of a Valentine (7 page)

‘Name?’

‘Percy Stane.’

‘And where does he work?’

‘Waste disposal. Across the hall.’

‘Right.’ Hamish got to his feet. ‘Did you get all that, McSween?’

Josie blushed. She had been daydreaming.

Hamish sighed and took out his notebook. ‘Right, Jessie, I’ll need you to go over it again.’

Percy Stane – what misguided parent called a child Percy these days? wondered Hamish – turned out to be a spotty youth of nineteen years. He had thick glasses
through which pale blue eyes stared at them like a rabbit caught in the headlights.

‘We just want to ask you a few questions about Annie Fleming,’ said Hamish. ‘Did you send her a valentine?’

Percy’s eyes darted this way and that. ‘We have good forensic evidence,’ said Hamish severely, hoping Percy would think his card had been found.

‘I-I d-did s-send one,’ he stammered.

‘Now, that’s all right,’ said Hamish soothingly. ‘You didn’t send her a parcel?’

Hamish’s mobile phone rang. ‘Excuse me,’ he said. He answered it. It was Jimmy. ‘Thought you’d like to hear the latest. At the autopsy, they found tablets of
Ecstasy sewn into the hem of her jacket. It fortunately hadnae been burnt, thanks to that McGirty woman.’

‘I’ve just learned she had been frequenting a disco called Stardust in her lunch break,’ said Hamish.

‘Good man. I’ve been dying for an excuse to raid that place for ages.’

Jimmy rang off.

Hamish went and sat down facing Percy again. ‘Did you say anything in your valentine?’

Percy blushed deep red. ‘Do I have to tell you?’

‘Yes.’

‘I didn’t put a poem. I just wrote, “Come back to me. Love, Percy”’

‘So she had been your date?’

‘Not exactly.’ Percy wriggled in his hard chair. ‘Annie was always flirting and I thought she fancied me. I couldn’t look at my girlfriend after Annie came on to me. I
thought about her night and day.’

‘You mean Jessie Cormack?’

‘Yes.’

‘Didn’t it strike you as rather mean that Annie would flirt with you and then turn cold when she’d got you away from her friend?’

‘I was . . . dazzled.’

‘Did you follow her?’

He hung his head.

‘Come on, laddie. Out wi’ it!’

‘I called in sick one day and went to the wildlife park. As I approached, she was just driving off. I followed. She went to a disco. I followed her in. She was over at the bar with some
low-life, laughing and drinking. I went up to her and she threw her head back and laughed. I said, “What about a dance, Annie?” and her face went all hard and the fellow with her said,
“Bugger off or I’ll glass your face.”’

‘What did he look like?’

‘Greasy hair, black eyes, leather jacket, tattoo of a snake on his wrist, and a bit older than her. He frightened me. I got out of there. I was determined to stay clear of her, but after a
few days, I . . . I . . .’

‘You followed her again?’

‘I waited outside her house one morning to try to speak to her but she said if I didn’t leave her alone, she would call the police. That frightened me. My valentine – well, it
was one last desperate try.’

‘Did you see her with any other man, other than this fellow at the disco?’

He shook his head.

‘Did you know she took drugs?’

Percy looked shocked. ‘She couldn’t, she wouldn’t . . .’

‘She did,’ said Hamish flatly. ‘I’ll be talking to you again.’

Out in the hall, Hamish said, ‘Back to Jessie.’

‘How did you know she took drugs?’ asked Josie.

Hamish told her what Jimmy Anderson had said. He opened the door to Jessie’s office. She was sitting at her computer typing busily.

‘Stop for a minute,’ ordered Hamish. ‘Did you know that Annie took drugs?’

‘No!’

‘Never talked about it? Never hinted?’

‘Not a word.’

‘I’ll be back to see you. Here’s my card. If you can think of anything, phone me up. There may be something you’ve forgotten.’

Hamish dropped Josie off at her car. ‘I’m going back to Lochdubh,’ he said. ‘You may as well get home and change. Take it easy. The snow’s still
light but it could get heavy any moment.’

Josie drove off, peering through the windscreen as the hypnotic flakes swirled and danced in front of her. At the manse, she changed into civilian clothes and brushed down her uniform and then
went down to the kitchen to borrow an iron and an ironing board from Mrs Wellington.

‘You’ve had an exciting day,’ said the minister’s wife. ‘Hamish is quite the hero. I saw him on the television rescuing that lion. Were you frightened?’

‘All in the day’s work,’ said Josie.

Jimmy called at the police station that evening. ‘You’ll never get back,’ said Hamish. ‘The snow’s coming down thick and fast.’

‘You may as well put me up for the night,’ said Jimmy. ‘I’ve got to be in Braikie first thing in the morning. What a waste of time. We raided the disco. Clean as a
whistle.’

‘I might go over there myself tomorrow for the lunch-time session,’ said Hamish. ‘I’m looking for someone called Jake.’

‘You’ve been on the telly. Everyone will recognize you.’

‘I’ll go in disguise.’

‘You’ll be poaching on Blair’s territory.’

‘Then don’t tell him.’

‘So what do you do if you find Jake?’

‘Try to find out where he lives and give you the information. I might take McSween.’

‘How’s that going, Hamish?’

‘I don’t know why that one ever wanted to be a policewoman. She hasn’t a clue. Anyway, help yourself to a dram and I’ll call her.’

Josie had just finished speaking to her mother when her phone rang again. She listened to Hamish’s suggestion that they go to the disco tomorrow if the snow allowed them
to travel to Strathbane.

Her eyes were once more full of dreams as she rang off. Her mother had seen Hamish on television and was loud in her praise. Hamish began to appear a heroic figure in Josie’s mind. He had
said he would be in disguise but she needn’t bother: just wear something suitable for a disco. They would dance, he would hold her in his arms, he would say . . .

‘Are you finished with that iron?’ said Mrs Wellington, coming into the kitchen.

The countryside looked like an old-fashioned Christmas card when Hamish collected Josie the following day. Blair’s desire to keep Hamish out of every investigation meant
that he was not constantly being given orders or monitored.

Josie barely recognized Hamish. He had a false ginger beard and moustache and small John Lennon-type glasses. His flaming hair was hidden under a black wool cap.

She thought he looked awful.

The music blaring from the disco when they arrived was so loud that as they walked towards the club, Hamish was sure he could feel the beat reverberating through his shoes.

Inside the club, Josie took off her enveloping fun-fur coat to reveal that she was wearing a short red leather skirt, fishnet stockings, and a gauzy glittery blouse with a plunging neckline. She
took off her boots and slipped on a pair of high-heeled red stilettos. Josie was also heavily made up.

They moved on to the dance floor. Josie was a good dancer but to her dismay, Hamish danced like a demented stork. A young man came up and began to dance with Josie, cutting Hamish out. Hamish
gave her a quick nod to say it was all right and made his way to the bar. ‘I’m looking for Jake,’ he shouted to the barman.

‘Ower there,’ the barman shouted back, pointing to a man in a black leather jacket at the end of the bar.

Hamish approached Jake. He tapped him on the shoulder and flashed a thick wad of what appeared to be fifty-pound notes. Actually it was one fifty-pound note wound round paper. ‘Come
outside,’ he said. ‘I’ve a big deal for ye.’

On the way out, he tried to signal to Josie. But Josie was lost in the music, her eyes closed, her hips swaying.

Outside, Hamish flashed his warrant card and said, ‘I would like you . . .’

But that was as far as he got. Jake took to his heels and ran but skidded in the snow and went down heavily. Hamish handcuffed him and hauled him to his feet. He realized if he phoned Jimmy, it
would take Jimmy an hour to get from Braikie to Strathbane. He’d just need to take him to police headquarters. Where the hell was Josie? He shrugged. He couldn’t waste time going back
for her, and Jake could have friends in the disco who might cause a fight.

Hamish had Jake searched at police headquarters and found he was carrying a good supply of Ecstasy and heroin. He had him put in a cell after being charged with possession.
Then he phoned Jimmy.

Blair was sitting in his car, eating a mutton pie, when Jimmy told him the news. Blair let out a string of oaths, ending up by saying he would have Macbeth’s guts for garters for poaching
on Strathbane’s beat.

‘Maybe,’ said Jimmy. ‘But this Jake Cullen sounds like Annie’s boyfriend, and she did have Ecstasy tablets on her when she was killed.’

To Jimmy’s surprise, Blair said, ‘I’ve got work to do. Get yourself ower there and keep in touch.’

The owner of Stardust, Barry Fitzcameron, was a friend of Blair’s. Barry also owned a couple of pubs where there were always free drinks for the detective inspector. Blair had tipped him
off about the raid. When Jimmy had gone, he decided to find a public phone box and call Barry.

Hamish sat in on the questioning. To his surprise, Jake seemed quite cocky. He denied supplying Annie with drugs and denied having had any relationship with her whatsoever.

Hamish said, ‘We have witnesses who can testify that you were intimate with Annie Fleming and supplied her with drugs. And don’t tell me the quantity we found on you was for your own
use.’

‘Look, I’m popular wi’ the lassies,’ said Jake. ‘I may have given her a leg over. There are so many, I can’t remember.’

‘Stop havering, laddie,’ shouted Jimmy. ‘Annie Fleming was the most beautiful girl in the Highlands. Nobody could forget her.’

But Jake continued to stonewall until his lawyer was allowed in. He was told to appear in the sheriff’s court in the morning. He was charged with having possession of and supplying drugs,
and led away to the cells.

Blair got on the phone in a call box and phoned Barry Fitzcameron. ‘Thon numptie, Jake, has got himself arrested,’ he said.

‘Has he now,’ said Barry. ‘Don’t worry about him. I’ll see to him.’

‘Where’s your sidekick?’ asked Jimmy as he walked Hamish to the door.

‘I couldnae hang around waiting for her. Jimmy, do me a favour and get her transferred back.’

‘I’ll see what I can do. Oh, there’s the lassie, waiting for you.’

Josie was slumped in a chair in the reception area. Hamish opened his mouth to blast her for having been so absorbed in dancing that she had forgotten her duties, but then decided wearily it was
a waste of time.

‘I’m sorry,’ babbled Josie. ‘I heard you arrested Jake. I looked round and you’d gone.’

‘I’ll take you back, McSween,’ said Hamish wearily. ‘Chust don’t say a word.’

He dropped Josie off at the manse and told her to take the rest of the day off. Looking along the waterfront, he saw the press outside the police station. He guessed they wanted quotes about the
lion. He did a U-turn and drove first to the Italian restaurant where he found his pets in the kitchen, collected them, and drove to the Tommel Castle Hotel.

Priscilla was crossing the reception area when he arrived. ‘Still here?’ asked Hamish.

‘Leaving tomorrow. I read in the papers about Elspeth getting engaged.’

‘Good luck to her,’ said Hamish with badly pretended indifference. ‘I’ve escaped up here to get away from the press. They probably want quotes about thon lion.’

‘I should think they’re there to ask you about the murder. Blair killed the lion story. He’s quoted on the radio and television saying the lion was very old, nearly dead, and a
child could have rescued it.’

‘He doesn’t know he’s done me a favour,’ said Hamish. ‘Too much favourable publicity and Daviot’ll have me off to Strathbane. I’d like to talk about it
for a bit. My head’s in a muddle.’

‘Mr Johnson’s away. Come in to the office and have some coffee. Yes, you can fetch the cat and dog in if you want.’

Settled in the office with Sonsie and Lugs at his feet, Hamish told her all he knew about the case. He ended by saying, ‘I thought it would be easier. But it turns out
that Annie was a bit of a goer, to put it politely, and God only knows how many men have got their knickers in a twist over her. I haven’t talked to the parents. Maybe I’ll try them
when Blair has finished with them. The father’s awfy strict. I ’member hearing that.’

‘You mean God might have told him to bump off his harlot of a daughter?’

‘No. He wouldn’t have sent something so elaborate as a letter bomb.’

‘Does it take a lot of skill to make a letter bomb?’

‘The bomb’s not hard. It’s aluminium powder and iron, I think. But the skill comes in making the fuse and making it all so cleverly that it won’t go off in the post
sorting office.’

‘So you should be looking for someone with a terrorist background or someone with a good knowledge of chemistry? What about Harry Etherington? His friends knew how to detonate dynamite.
Maybe one of them’s got an iffy background.’

‘Nothing showed up on the computer but a few drunk and disorderlies. Anyway, young Harry hadn’t long arrived in the area. He didn’t have the time to make Annie’s
acquaintance.’

‘What about the wildlife park? What’s it like?’

‘Hard to tell now that the animal libbers have let all the creatures out of the cages, but if the lion’s anything to go by, I think the whole sorry place was a desert of mange and
mud. Owners are Jocasta and Bill Freemont. Jocasta is posh and overworked. Bill is lower down the social scale.’

‘Bit of a rough?’

‘Not that low down. A chancer and, I guess, a fantasist. I think he sold poor Jocasta some dream of the Highlands that only the lowland Scots on the tartan lunatic fringe know how to
do.’