carrying and threw a lump of meat into
the cage.
The lion fell on it and Hamish slowly exited the cage. ‘Turn those lights off,’ snarled Hamish at a television crew, ‘and give the lion a bit o’ peace.’
Hamish drove back to the wildlife park. The rain had begun to fall. Josie was standing outside the office, looking wet and miserable.
‘They wouldn’t let me in the office,’ complained Josie. ‘They said there wasn’t room and I wasn’t on the case.’
‘Get in,’ said Hamish. Josie meekly climbed in. ‘Now, what were you about, McSween,’ said Hamish. ‘Thon lion was secure in the back. It’s where we put a
prisoner, see? It couldnae have got at us.’
‘I was scared,’ mumbled Josie.
Hamish had been frightened as well but Josie did not know him well enough to understand that Hamish’s accent became more highland and sibilant when he was afraid. But overcoming
Hamish’s fear was a desire to keep this noble old lion alive. He was sure if Strathbane police had arrived on the scene, then they would have shot it.
‘We’ll say no more about it,’ said Hamish. ‘I’ll switch on the heater. Do you want to go home and change?’
‘I’ve only got the one uniform,’ said Josie. ‘I’ll soon dry out. What are we going to do in Braikie?’
‘I’m going to try to find out the names of some of Annie’s friends. I want to know whether she had met anyone who might wish her harm. But maybe we’ll begin at the post
office and see if Georgie Braith, the new postmistress, can remember names of men or boys who bought valentines.’
‘Isn’t it “postperson”?’ asked Josie.
‘We aren’t PC up here.’
Hamish parked in front of the post office. ‘Could we have something to eat first?’ pleaded Josie.
‘Time’s getting on. Stick it out for a bit.’ He looked down at Josie’s dismal face. ‘Tell you what. You get something to eat. There’s the fish-and-chip shop
over there. I’ll let you know if I find out anything. Meet me back at the Land Rover.’
Why did Josie stay on? wondered Hamish. He suspected she had given up going on calls. Why didn’t she just go back to Strathbane?
Georgie Braith was a tall, rangy woman with iron-grey hair and a beak of a nose. To Hamish’s questions, she replied, ‘The parcel wasn’t posted from here. I can tell you that.
And how can I remember who bought valentines? It’s age. I can remember twenty years ago but don’t ask me about yesterday.’
‘Did you know Annie Fleming?’
‘Of course. You know what it’s like in Braikie. Everyone knows everyone else.’
‘What did you think of her?’
‘A very bonnie lass.’
‘Do you happen to know who her friends were?’
‘I remember now. She came in to look at valentines with Jessie Cormack.’
‘Where will I find Jessie Cormack?’
‘She works as a secretary up at the town hall – the building department.’
Hamish was just making his way out to the car when his attention was caught by a newspaper poster outside the newsagents. TV PRESENTER TO WED seemed to scream at him.
He went in to the newsagents and bought a copy of the Daily Bugle. He flipped open the pages and there it was: a photo of a smiling Elspeth Grant on the arm of a handsome man stared out
at him. He read, ‘Our very own Elspeth Grant is to wed Paul Darby, heart-throb of the hospital soap Doctors in Peril.’ His eyes skittered over the black print. Paul Darby was
English, and the couple had met when Elspeth was on holiday in the Maldives.
Hamish stood there, feeling forlorn. He remembered all the times he had been on the point of proposing to Elspeth but something had always seemed to get in the way. A voice in his head sneered,
‘If you had been that keen, you’d have proposed.’ But he felt depressed.
He put the newspaper in the rubbish bin outside and joined Josie in the Land Rover. ‘We’re off to the town hall,’ said Hamish. ‘One of the secretaries there was a friend
o’
the cage.
The lion fell on it and Hamish slowly exited the cage. ‘Turn those lights off,’ snarled Hamish at a television crew, ‘and give the lion a bit o’ peace.’
Hamish drove back to the wildlife park. The rain had begun to fall. Josie was standing outside the office, looking wet and miserable.
‘They wouldn’t let me in the office,’ complained Josie. ‘They said there wasn’t room and I wasn’t on the case.’
‘Get in,’ said Hamish. Josie meekly climbed in. ‘Now, what were you about, McSween,’ said Hamish. ‘Thon lion was secure in the back. It’s where we put a
prisoner, see? It couldnae have got at us.’
‘I was scared,’ mumbled Josie.
Hamish had been frightened as well but Josie did not know him well enough to understand that Hamish’s accent became more highland and sibilant when he was afraid. But overcoming
Hamish’s fear was a desire to keep this noble old lion alive. He was sure if Strathbane police had arrived on the scene, then they would have shot it.
‘We’ll say no more about it,’ said Hamish. ‘I’ll switch on the heater. Do you want to go home and change?’
‘I’ve only got the one uniform,’ said Josie. ‘I’ll soon dry out. What are we going to do in Braikie?’
‘I’m going to try to find out the names of some of Annie’s friends. I want to know whether she had met anyone who might wish her harm. But maybe we’ll begin at the post
office and see if Georgie Braith, the new postmistress, can remember names of men or boys who bought valentines.’
‘Isn’t it “postperson”?’ asked Josie.
‘We aren’t PC up here.’
Hamish parked in front of the post office. ‘Could we have something to eat first?’ pleaded Josie.
‘Time’s getting on. Stick it out for a bit.’ He looked down at Josie’s dismal face. ‘Tell you what. You get something to eat. There’s the fish-and-chip shop
over there. I’ll let you know if I find out anything. Meet me back at the Land Rover.’
Why did Josie stay on? wondered Hamish. He suspected she had given up going on calls. Why didn’t she just go back to Strathbane?
Georgie Braith was a tall, rangy woman with iron-grey hair and a beak of a nose. To Hamish’s questions, she replied, ‘The parcel wasn’t posted from here. I can tell you that.
And how can I remember who bought valentines? It’s age. I can remember twenty years ago but don’t ask me about yesterday.’
‘Did you know Annie Fleming?’
‘Of course. You know what it’s like in Braikie. Everyone knows everyone else.’
‘What did you think of her?’
‘A very bonnie lass.’
‘Do you happen to know who her friends were?’
‘I remember now. She came in to look at valentines with Jessie Cormack.’
‘Where will I find Jessie Cormack?’
‘She works as a secretary up at the town hall – the building department.’
Hamish was just making his way out to the car when his attention was caught by a newspaper poster outside the newsagents. TV PRESENTER TO WED seemed to scream at him.
He went in to the newsagents and bought a copy of the Daily Bugle. He flipped open the pages and there it was: a photo of a smiling Elspeth Grant on the arm of a handsome man stared out
at him. He read, ‘Our very own Elspeth Grant is to wed Paul Darby, heart-throb of the hospital soap Doctors in Peril.’ His eyes skittered over the black print. Paul Darby was
English, and the couple had met when Elspeth was on holiday in the Maldives.
Hamish stood there, feeling forlorn. He remembered all the times he had been on the point of proposing to Elspeth but something had always seemed to get in the way. A voice in his head sneered,
‘If you had been that keen, you’d have proposed.’ But he felt depressed.
He put the newspaper in the rubbish bin outside and joined Josie in the Land Rover. ‘We’re off to the town hall,’ said Hamish. ‘One of the secretaries there was a friend
o’
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