by M C Beaton
Priscilla’s cheeks turned pink. “That’s below the belt, Hamish.”
“Perhaps.”
“Is Alison staying on in Lochdubh?” asked Priscilla, deliberately changing the subject.
“No, she’s getting married to Peter and they’re going to live in London. Let’s hope that’s the last of crime in Lochdubh.” He told her about his visit from Blair.
“I don’t think you’re cut out to be a policeman,” said Priscilla. “You let these detectives walk all over you. And for what? So that you can stay on as village constable and do as little as possible.”
“That’s right,” said Hamish amiably.
“You are infuriating. Why don’t you come in on this hotel lark?” She walked out of the hall with him and across the drive to the police Land Rover.
Hamish raised his hands in mock horror. “Tae my mind, working for your dad would be worse than working for Blair any day. What’s the matter, Priscilla? Don’t you like me the way I am?”
She looked down thoughtfully at her sandalled feet and did not reply.
“Well, cheerio,” said Hamish. “See you around.”
“Hamish, I…”
“Yes?” He turned around.
“Nothing,” mumbled Priscilla.
As Hamish drove down to the police station, he found he was feeling very happy indeed, almost elated. It could surely not be because a moneyless, hotel-owning, working Priscilla was within his reach.
No, he told himself, that nonsense was over, but happiness bubbled inside him. He felt sure the days of crime were over for Lochdubh, and Priscilla would be just up the road all year round.
In the evening, he realised he had forgotten to buy anything for his dinner. He had sent, as usual, a good part of his monthly wage back to his mother and father and brothers and sisters over in Cromarty and so he could not afford to dine at the hotel. He ransacked his cupboards and came up with a solitary tin of baked beans.
“Beans it’ll have tae be,” he said to Towser. “And no butcher’s meat for you tonight, my boy. Dog food’s all we’ve got.” Towser hung his head and glared at the linoleum.
The phone rang. Hamish put down the cans and went to answer it. The caller was Priscilla.
“Hamish,” she said. “There are a few points about this hotel business we would like to discuss with you. Could you possibly come to dinner this evening? Just the family and don’t dress. You can even bring Towser.”
Hamish accepted the invitation. He put down the phone and grinned at the receiver. “The auld man must hae been at the whisky,” he said to Towser who had followed him. “Dinner at the castle for us. Come along.”
He put on a clean shirt and tie and a pair of new trousers. He gave Towser a quick brush and then led the dog out to the police Land Rover.
“Times are changing, Towser,” said Hamish Macbeth as he drove through the heathery twilight.
FB2 document info
Document ID: f7a7fe91-6ac9-4a90-9438-e220a0d0e69e
Document version: 1
Document creation date: 31.5.2012
Created using: calibre 0.8.53, FictionBook Editor Release 2.6.6 software
Document authors :
M.C. Beaton
About
This file was generated by Lord KiRon's FB2EPUB converter version 1.1.5.0.
(This book might contain copyrighted material, author of the converter bears no responsibility for it's usage)
Этот файл создан при помощи конвертера FB2EPUB версии 1.1.5.0 написанного Lord KiRon.
(Эта книга может содержать материал который защищен авторским правом, автор конвертера не несет ответственности за его использование)
http://www.fb2epub.net
https://code.google.com/p/fb2epub/