Death of a Liar by M. C. Beaton

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    Jimmy pulled up a chair. “Hey, Willie!” he shouted. “A double whisky.”
    â€œNot if you’re driving,” called Willie.
    â€œI’m staying the night at the police station, so hop to it.”
    In an odd way, Hamish was glad of the interruption to what had seemed, moments ago, the beginning of a romantic evening. His thoughts flew to Anka. Lucky Dick to be up there where he could visit her.
    â€œThere have been big developments,” said Jimmy. “You can call Dick back.”
    â€œI’ll do that. What’s new?”
    â€œA full report from the Mounties in Toronto. Alex Brough skipped Canada before he could be charged with fraud. But there’s more. His real name is Peter Gaunt. His partners in crime were a Bert and Bessie Southern, real names of the Leighs, all of them English. They had conned five wealthy residents out of their life savings. The children and relatives of the ones who were cheated have all been checked, and not one of them has left Canada in the past year.”
    â€œSo what does Peter Gaunt have to say for himself?” asked Hamish.
    â€œHe’s disappeared. Somehow he must have got involved in something bigger than cheating his congregation or he would have run for it after the murder of the Southerns.”
    â€œUnless he was the one who murdered them,” said Hamish. “Why were the police so slow at picking him up?”
    â€œThey were still going through the church’s books when this report from Canada arrived. They sent a squad to the church to find it empty.”
    â€œThey all must have been into something very big,” said Christine.
    â€œSay some big gang had a heist and wanted it out of Canada,” suggested Hamish. “There’s Gaunt with a false passport and a way to get out of the country and over here. He and the Southerns split up and they take the loot. They disappear. Maybe they’ve told some villains that they are going to South America—anywhere but the wilds of Scotland.
    â€œBut some gang catches up with the Southerns and tortures them to try to find out where the goods are.”
    â€œBut what about Liz Bentley?” asked Christine.
    â€œI’m slipping,” mourned Hamish. “I should have shown her photograph to members of the congregation. There was that ring hidden in her shed. Those rings were maybe a way of anyone involved to identify each other.”
    â€œI’ll get Inverness police working on that in the morning,” said Jimmy, stifling a yawn.
    The wind shrieked outside, and there was a crash as a loose piece of board struck the window outside.
    â€œYou can’t sleep at the police station tonight,” said Hamish. “Christine can’t drive back in a storm like this.”
    â€œIt’s all right,” said Christine. “I’ve got a sleeping bag in my car and the keys to the Leighs’ place. I still think of them as the Leighs. I can bed down there for the night.”
    â€œWon’t do,” said Hamish. “There’s a sofa in the living room. Jimmy can sleep in the cell and you can take the sofa.”
    â€œI’ll be okay,” said Christine. She knew there was still water and electricity in the old schoolhouse and she did not want Hamish to see her in her serviceable pyjamas and without her make-up on.
    Despite Hamish’s protests, Christine insisted on staying at the schoolhouse.
    Back at the police station, Hamish phoned Dick and told him the latest news.
    â€œI should stay here,” protested Dick. “What about the Bentley murder?”
    â€œWait a minute.” Hamish turned to Jimmy. “Dick thinks he ought to stay up there and keep looking into Liz’s murder.”
    â€œOh, all right. Tell him to give it a few more days,” said Jimmy.
    â€œYou can stay on for a bit,” said Hamish. He then told Dick about the report from the Mounties. “Liz must have known someone