Death of a Policeman by M. C. Beaton

all.”
    Hetty finished her Highland Slammer and started on the wine. “He did love me, you know,” she said, leaning across the table and looking into Dick’s eyes.
    â€œYou’ve got lipstick on your teeth,” said Dick.
    She scowled at him and scrubbed her teeth with her napkin.
    â€œExcuse me!” Dick got to his feet and hurried to the men’s room. He phoned Hamish.
    â€œCould you phone me back in five minutes and order me out on a job?” pleaded Dick.
    â€œWill do. What’s up?”
    â€œTell you later.”
    Dick spent a few minutes washing his hands before returning to the table. Hetty was becoming tipsy. She waggled a finger at him. “I know what you’re after.”
    Dick’s phone rang. He answered it and said, “Right away, sir.”
    When he rang off, he said to Hetty, “Got a job. I’ll square this before I go.”
    He rushed up to the bar and paid the bill. Hetty’s voice followed him as he left the restaurant. “When will I see you again?”
    As Dick left he saw Shona leaving the library. He felt he had made enough of a fool of himself for one day and was about to get into his car when she hailed him. “Hullo, Dick. Where’s Hetty?”
    â€œShe’s in the pub. I’ve been called out on a job.”
    â€œWhat a pity. You and Hetty seem to be getting on well.”
    â€œMy only interest in Hetty,” said Dick, “is to see if she can remember anything important about Cyril. How can you stand the woman?”
    â€œOh, Hetty’s all right. I’m a bit sorry for her. She’s lonely.”
    â€œI wonder why?” said Dick acidly.
    She gave him a startled look, and Dick blushed. “Sorry to sound so cross,” he said. “But Hetty was getting drunk and I got fed up. I would rather have had lunch with you.”
    â€œMaybe another time,” said Shona.
    Dick sadly watched her walk away.
    Â Â 
    Hamish parked the Land Rover off the road under a stand of birch trees some distance from where Paolo Gonzales lived. He was out of uniform, dressed again in black trousers and a sweater with a black woollen hat pulled down over his red hair. He let the dog and cat run around the moorland for a bit before shutting them up in the Land Rover.
    The day had turned grey with a fine mist drifting across the landscape. Hamish did not know what he expected to see. Johnny Livia had been pulled in for questioning about the murder of Jessie McTavish, but Hamish was sure the man would simply repeat his cast-iron alibi. He felt he could not spend another day idle. Perhaps if he covertly watched Paolo’s cottage, he might learn something.
    He approached the cottage by a circuitous route. He noticed that although the day was quite chilly, there was no smoke rising from the chimney, nor was there any car outside. It was possible that the man was at the restaurant.
    There was no point in watching an empty house. Hamish had a sudden longing to get inside the cottage to see if he could find anything incriminating. He was risking his job if he went in there without a search warrant. He looked around at the empty landscape and felt in his pocket for his skeleton keys.
    He cautiously approached the door. He decided to try the handle before picking the lock. The handle turned and the door swung open. Hamish went inside. If caught, he could always say he had smelt gas.
    Not only was the living-room- cum -kitchen deserted, but there were signs of hasty packing. The television had gone along with the plates, pots, and pans.
    A large discarded packing case with a split in its side lay on the floor.
    Hamish suddenly heard the sound of a vehicle arriving. He darted out of the unlocked back door. There was no garden, only heather and gorse. Hamish crouched down behind a gorse bush.
    He could hear sounds of activity from inside. He crept up and looked through the small window at the back. Two men he did not recognise