Death of a Hussy by MC Beaton Page B

lightning. His face took on a grey tinge. Like quite a lot of first-time philanderers, he was convinced his doings were immune from the probings of prying eyes.
    ‘You wouldnae dare,’ he breathed.
    ‘I’m a verra kindly man,’ said Hamish, ‘but I hate injustice and that Alison Kerr is a champion driver – everything exactly by the book. Now if I thought you’d failed her out o’ spite, there’s no knowing what I’d do. They’ve been complaints about ye before but always from failed drivers and it was probably put down to disappointment on their part. But what if a policeman were to add his voice to the complaints? And what if that self-same policeman were a verra moral fellow and decided Mrs Smeedon ought to know what you were up to …?’
    ‘I passed Miss Kerr,’ said Smeedon desperately.
    ‘You told her?’
    ‘Aye, well I was thinking of something else and made a wee mistake.’
    ‘Just you stand there and write out that she’s passed and that’ll be an end o’ the matter,’ said Hamish.
    The examiner rapidly scribbled out a form that stated that Alison Kerr had passed her driving test. Hamish twitched it out of his fingers. ‘Now off with you,’ he said sternly.
    ‘You’ll not …?’
    ‘No, I won’t be saying a word to Mrs Smeedon,’ said Hamish, but, as the examiner scurried to his car, he added softly, ‘but that complaint about you failing people out o’ spite is going in just the same.’
    He went over to the Renault, opened the door, and slid into the passenger seat.
    ‘Here,’ he said, holding out Alison’s pass form, ‘dry your eyes wi’ this.’
    Alison took it blindly and then blinked down at it through her thick glasses. She stared at it. Then she scrubbed her eyes under her glasses with her sopping handkerchief and looked again.
    ‘But he said I’d failed.’
    ‘We all make mistakes,’ said Hamish comfortably. ‘He’s put it right.’
    Alison flung her arms around him and pressed a damp kiss against his cheek. ‘You did this,’ she said in a choked voice. ‘You made him do it.’
    ‘Now, now,’ said Hamish, pulling free and resisting a strong temptation to wipe his cheek with the back of his hand. ‘Never mind who did or said what. You’re free to drive on your own.’
    Alison looked at him shyly. ‘It’s nearly lunch time,’ she said, ‘and I booked a table for us at the hotel … you know, for a celebration lunch. My little surprise.’
    ‘That’s very nice,’ said Hamish, ‘but I am on duty.’
    ‘But Hamish !’ Alison had dreamt about this lunch since she first thought of the idea.
    Hamish opened the door and got out. How sweet the air outside was! It was as if Alison had been wearing a cloying sticky perfume although she never wore scent. ‘Take yourself for a drive and enjoy yourself,’ said Hamish, bending down and looking in at her. ‘Oh, and get a photocopy of that form and then send it off to the DVLC and you should get your licence back through the post in a couple of weeks’ time.’ And before Alison could say any more, Hamish closed the car door and strolled off.
    It was as well for Hamish that Alison was more obsessed with driving than she was with him or she would have chased after him. She sat rather bleakly, watching him in the driving mirror. Then she looked again at that pass form and a slow glow of sheer happiness spread through her body. She was free! She could drive anywhere she liked. The sun was sparkling and the road in front of her curved along the waterfront, over a humpbacked bridge and up the hill out of Lochdubh.
    She switched on the engine and moved off. A car hooted and swept past her and the driver shouted something out of the window. She slammed on the brakes and sat shaking. She had forgotten to signal. She had even forgotten to check her mirrors or look around.
    She tried to move off again, but the car would not budge. She switched the engine off again and covered her face with her hands. Think! Then she slowly