opposite her and put his peaked cap on the desk. ‘I am examining all points of this case. To go back to the beginning, why did you choose Lochdubh for this greening
experiment when Strathbane is more in need of it?’
‘I am passionate about the environment. Strathbane is a massive project. I wanted to start the experiment with somewhere smaller. Somewhere that would look good on the television
cameras.’
‘Television?’
‘Yes, don’t you see? It pays to advertise. Lochdubh is a picturesque village. When it appears on the screens, people in the Highlands will feel compelled to
follow the good example.’
‘They may have more important news to cover than the cleaning up of a Highland village,’ said Hamish maliciously. ‘Like the odd war or two.’
‘I thought of that,’ she said, leaning forward. ‘We are now in August, and August is traditionally a quiet time for news. I have the press handouts ready. I will be arriving in
Lochdubh with the councillors and provost, and I will make a speech to the cameras.’
Her eyes took on a dreamy, faraway look. Oh my, thought Hamish, a star is born.
‘Fergus Macleod was not popular,’ said Hamish. ‘In fact, he was so unpopular that the villagers were not putting their rubbish in the correct receptacles. They are
now.’
Her eyes became steely. ‘Are you daring to suggest that I might have murdered some dustman because the project was not working out?’
‘Of course not,’ said Hamish quickly. ‘I’m just asking questions here and there and trying to build up a picture.’
‘Then may I suggest you get back to your village where the murder took place and get on with your job in the right location? The murderer must be found. Fergus Macleod was as dedicated to
the environment as I am myself.’
Hamish eyed her curiously. ‘If I may say so, Mrs Fleming, it is my humble opinion that you would look well on television.’
She cast her eyes down in false modesty. Then she said, ‘Whether I look good or not, that is beside the point. I wish to do my best for the environment.’
Liar, thought Hamish. He stood up. ‘When is this ceremony to be?’
‘Next week, on Wednesday. I hope the weather will be fine. Perhaps you could ask the fishermen to deck their boats with flags? And perhaps it might be in order to give me some sort of
presentation from the grateful villagers. Just a large box. There doesn’t need to be anything in it. Just for the cameras. And perhaps a pretty wee lassie to give me some flowers.’
Hamish nodded and left. What a monumental ego, he thought with wonder. But would she kill just to get her face on the telly? Television seemed to affect people like a drug. Look at the Jerry
Springer Show. How could people humiliate themselves in such a way, and all to get their faces in front of the cameras.
He realized he had not asked her where she was on the night Fergus was killed. He half turned and then turned back. She would rant and rave that he was accusing her and report him to Blair. He
nodded to Mrs Fleming’s secretary, who was sitting at a desk in an adjoining room. She was a small neat girl with a white face, small eyes and large red mouth.
Hamish paused in front of her desk and decided to take a gamble. ‘Must be awful, a pretty lass like you, working for that old dragon,’ he said.
She let out a scared little giggle. ‘Shh, she’ll hear you!’
Hamish leaned over the desk. ‘Would you be free for a drink this evening?’
‘Maybe.’
‘When do you finish?’
‘Five o’clock.’
‘What about then?’
She giggled again. ‘Oh, all right.’
‘I’ll see you in the cocktail bar of the Grand just after five.’
The phone on her desk rang. ‘All right,’ she said again.
Hamish went off. It would be interesting to quiz the secretary and find out more about Mrs Fleming.
Chapter Five
Dear, beauteous death, the jewel of the just!
Shining nowhere but in the dark;
What mysteries do lie beyond thy
experiment when Strathbane is more in need of it?’
‘I am passionate about the environment. Strathbane is a massive project. I wanted to start the experiment with somewhere smaller. Somewhere that would look good on the television
cameras.’
‘Television?’
‘Yes, don’t you see? It pays to advertise. Lochdubh is a picturesque village. When it appears on the screens, people in the Highlands will feel compelled to
follow the good example.’
‘They may have more important news to cover than the cleaning up of a Highland village,’ said Hamish maliciously. ‘Like the odd war or two.’
‘I thought of that,’ she said, leaning forward. ‘We are now in August, and August is traditionally a quiet time for news. I have the press handouts ready. I will be arriving in
Lochdubh with the councillors and provost, and I will make a speech to the cameras.’
Her eyes took on a dreamy, faraway look. Oh my, thought Hamish, a star is born.
‘Fergus Macleod was not popular,’ said Hamish. ‘In fact, he was so unpopular that the villagers were not putting their rubbish in the correct receptacles. They are
now.’
Her eyes became steely. ‘Are you daring to suggest that I might have murdered some dustman because the project was not working out?’
‘Of course not,’ said Hamish quickly. ‘I’m just asking questions here and there and trying to build up a picture.’
‘Then may I suggest you get back to your village where the murder took place and get on with your job in the right location? The murderer must be found. Fergus Macleod was as dedicated to
the environment as I am myself.’
Hamish eyed her curiously. ‘If I may say so, Mrs Fleming, it is my humble opinion that you would look well on television.’
She cast her eyes down in false modesty. Then she said, ‘Whether I look good or not, that is beside the point. I wish to do my best for the environment.’
Liar, thought Hamish. He stood up. ‘When is this ceremony to be?’
‘Next week, on Wednesday. I hope the weather will be fine. Perhaps you could ask the fishermen to deck their boats with flags? And perhaps it might be in order to give me some sort of
presentation from the grateful villagers. Just a large box. There doesn’t need to be anything in it. Just for the cameras. And perhaps a pretty wee lassie to give me some flowers.’
Hamish nodded and left. What a monumental ego, he thought with wonder. But would she kill just to get her face on the telly? Television seemed to affect people like a drug. Look at the Jerry
Springer Show. How could people humiliate themselves in such a way, and all to get their faces in front of the cameras.
He realized he had not asked her where she was on the night Fergus was killed. He half turned and then turned back. She would rant and rave that he was accusing her and report him to Blair. He
nodded to Mrs Fleming’s secretary, who was sitting at a desk in an adjoining room. She was a small neat girl with a white face, small eyes and large red mouth.
Hamish paused in front of her desk and decided to take a gamble. ‘Must be awful, a pretty lass like you, working for that old dragon,’ he said.
She let out a scared little giggle. ‘Shh, she’ll hear you!’
Hamish leaned over the desk. ‘Would you be free for a drink this evening?’
‘Maybe.’
‘When do you finish?’
‘Five o’clock.’
‘What about then?’
She giggled again. ‘Oh, all right.’
‘I’ll see you in the cocktail bar of the Grand just after five.’
The phone on her desk rang. ‘All right,’ she said again.
Hamish went off. It would be interesting to quiz the secretary and find out more about Mrs Fleming.
Chapter Five
Dear, beauteous death, the jewel of the just!
Shining nowhere but in the dark;
What mysteries do lie beyond thy
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