determined to go up to Geordie’s Cleft and look around.
First he phoned Angela and asked her if she would look after the dog and cat.
‘Can’t,’ she said. ‘Lugs is all right, but that wild cat of yours terrifies my cats. You’ll need to find someone else.’
In desperation, Hamish phoned Priscilla and explained his problem. ‘I’ll come with you,’ she said in her calm, even voice. ‘There are no police around any more. We can
take your Land Rover, put the animals in the back. I’ll bring some food, and we’ll drive up as far as we can. We can let them out for a run and then shut them up in the Land Rover while
we climb up to Geordie’s Cleft.’
Hamish said he would pick her up. As he drove to the hotel, he couldn’t help hoping that Betty had returned. He was still puzzled as to why she had left without phoning him.
Priscilla was waiting for him in the forecourt with a large picnic hamper.
‘You were quick getting the food ready,’ said Hamish.
‘A family had ordered it and then decided they didn’t want it. They’re being charged for it anyway, so it’s free food for all of us.’
Hamish drove as near Geordie’s Cleft as he could, the Land Rover bumping over the heather. He stopped, and they got out. Lugs and Sonsie ran off together.
‘They won’t get lost, will they?’ asked Priscilla anxiously.
‘No, they always come back when I call. Anyway, if we eat before we climb, they’ll smell the food and come running.’
‘I hadn’t time to get animal food for them.’
‘They’re spoilt. They’re used to people food.’
Sure enough, Priscilla was just lifting a whole roast chicken out of its container when Sonsie came loping up, followed by Lugs, the dog’s odd, large ears flapping as he tried to keep up
with the cat.
Hamish watched Priscilla as she deftly carved the chicken and separated the pieces out on to paper plates. The sun was shining down on the golden bell of her hair. What did she think? wondered
Hamish. What did she think of him? Did she ever think of their broken engagement?
‘I don’t think your animals will like potato salad,’ said Priscilla. She gave each animal a plate of chicken pieces. ‘There’s a bottle of wine here, or would you
prefer coffee?’
‘Coffee. There’s a long climb ahead, and I need all my wits about me.’
‘So why are you still interested? It’s all around the village that the poor woman committed suicide.’
‘There’s something wrong. The pathologist says she died of a combination of antifreeze and exposure.’
‘The antifreeze having been in the wine bottle?’
‘Yes. But evidently antifreeze tastes sweet, and it was a dessert wine.’
‘What are you getting at?’
‘Just suppose someone really believes she’s pregnant and that she’s going to marry Jock. Jock calls on her and tells her he never meant to marry her and that she’s
talking rubbish. She’s devastated. Yes, but what if she gets a message supposed to have come from Jock, saying something like, “I’m sorry, Effie. I really do love you”? Say
the message is left outside her door with that bottle of wine. Say the message goes on asking her to bring the wine to Geordie’s Cleft so they can toast their engagement. “If I’m
late, help yourself to a glass before I arrive.”’
‘But how would she even know where Geordie’s Cleft was?’
‘Jock had told her he planned to go up there painting to get a panoramic view. He maybe told other people. So she sets off and climbs up and waits and waits. Decides to have a
glass.’
‘Find the corkscrew?’
‘Damn. That’s another thing I’ve got to look for. So she feels disoriented and drowsy, maybe falls asleep. The killer’s been waiting nearby. She pops that typewritten
suicide note into Effie’s pocket.’
‘She?’
‘The ring finger, cut off. Could be a jealous rage.’
‘Or some man from her past.’
‘Could be.’ Hamish stood up. ‘I won’t eat any more at the moment. The
First he phoned Angela and asked her if she would look after the dog and cat.
‘Can’t,’ she said. ‘Lugs is all right, but that wild cat of yours terrifies my cats. You’ll need to find someone else.’
In desperation, Hamish phoned Priscilla and explained his problem. ‘I’ll come with you,’ she said in her calm, even voice. ‘There are no police around any more. We can
take your Land Rover, put the animals in the back. I’ll bring some food, and we’ll drive up as far as we can. We can let them out for a run and then shut them up in the Land Rover while
we climb up to Geordie’s Cleft.’
Hamish said he would pick her up. As he drove to the hotel, he couldn’t help hoping that Betty had returned. He was still puzzled as to why she had left without phoning him.
Priscilla was waiting for him in the forecourt with a large picnic hamper.
‘You were quick getting the food ready,’ said Hamish.
‘A family had ordered it and then decided they didn’t want it. They’re being charged for it anyway, so it’s free food for all of us.’
Hamish drove as near Geordie’s Cleft as he could, the Land Rover bumping over the heather. He stopped, and they got out. Lugs and Sonsie ran off together.
‘They won’t get lost, will they?’ asked Priscilla anxiously.
‘No, they always come back when I call. Anyway, if we eat before we climb, they’ll smell the food and come running.’
‘I hadn’t time to get animal food for them.’
‘They’re spoilt. They’re used to people food.’
Sure enough, Priscilla was just lifting a whole roast chicken out of its container when Sonsie came loping up, followed by Lugs, the dog’s odd, large ears flapping as he tried to keep up
with the cat.
Hamish watched Priscilla as she deftly carved the chicken and separated the pieces out on to paper plates. The sun was shining down on the golden bell of her hair. What did she think? wondered
Hamish. What did she think of him? Did she ever think of their broken engagement?
‘I don’t think your animals will like potato salad,’ said Priscilla. She gave each animal a plate of chicken pieces. ‘There’s a bottle of wine here, or would you
prefer coffee?’
‘Coffee. There’s a long climb ahead, and I need all my wits about me.’
‘So why are you still interested? It’s all around the village that the poor woman committed suicide.’
‘There’s something wrong. The pathologist says she died of a combination of antifreeze and exposure.’
‘The antifreeze having been in the wine bottle?’
‘Yes. But evidently antifreeze tastes sweet, and it was a dessert wine.’
‘What are you getting at?’
‘Just suppose someone really believes she’s pregnant and that she’s going to marry Jock. Jock calls on her and tells her he never meant to marry her and that she’s
talking rubbish. She’s devastated. Yes, but what if she gets a message supposed to have come from Jock, saying something like, “I’m sorry, Effie. I really do love you”? Say
the message is left outside her door with that bottle of wine. Say the message goes on asking her to bring the wine to Geordie’s Cleft so they can toast their engagement. “If I’m
late, help yourself to a glass before I arrive.”’
‘But how would she even know where Geordie’s Cleft was?’
‘Jock had told her he planned to go up there painting to get a panoramic view. He maybe told other people. So she sets off and climbs up and waits and waits. Decides to have a
glass.’
‘Find the corkscrew?’
‘Damn. That’s another thing I’ve got to look for. So she feels disoriented and drowsy, maybe falls asleep. The killer’s been waiting nearby. She pops that typewritten
suicide note into Effie’s pocket.’
‘She?’
‘The ring finger, cut off. Could be a jealous rage.’
‘Or some man from her past.’
‘Could be.’ Hamish stood up. ‘I won’t eat any more at the moment. The
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