Death of a Dreamer Read Online Free PDF

off.
    When they reached the waterfront, the first person they saw was Mrs Dunne, the proprietor of Sea View. Mrs Dunne listened patiently to their shocked exclamations and then said patiently,
‘Herself must have just wanted rid of you. Jock Fleming left earlier today. And, no, he couldnae have done a detour because Henry, the gamekeeper, saw him heading off down towards
Lairg.’
    Hamish Macbeth returned to the police station that evening feeling happy and relaxed. He had enjoyed a pleasant day. He had guided Betty round all the local beauty spots. She
had really endeared herself to him when it transpired that she had brought along food for the dog and cat as well. Hamish did not know it was Clarry, the hotel chef and a friend of his, who had
thoughtfully added the food in two packets, one labelled Lugs and the other Sonsie.
    He looked forward to seeing Betty again. He checked his messages. No crime. It was going to be a great summer.
    Effie, the next day, began to fret about Priscilla. Jock had taken her for dinner. Effie was anxious to impress upon women in general and Priscilla in particular that Jock was
her property.
    Her obsession was at boiling point. Nothing was going to stand in her way. She got into her car and drove down to Strathbane to a shop which sold second-hand rings. She bought herself a diamond
engagement ring. Such was her obsession when she drove back that she could almost believe that Jock had given it to her.
    But they would laugh about it after they were married.
    Effie knew that there was to be a sale of work by the Mothers’ Union at the church the next day. That would be a good place to start.
    And that was to be the day when Hamish Macbeth’s peaceful summer came to an abrupt end.
    The first call Hamish got the following morning was to tell him to get over to Braikie, where a gunman was holding people hostage in the Highland and Sutherland Bank.
    The bane of his life, Detective Chief Inspector Blair, snarled down the phone. ‘Just you secure the area. A team of us are on the way, and we’ve got a proper hostage
negotiator.’
    Villagers turned and stared as the police Land Rover sped off through the village with the blue light flashing and the siren blaring.
    Hamish arrived in the main street of Braikie. A woman was standing crying, surrounded by a group of people. ‘She just got oot o’ there in time,’ said one man.
    Hamish went up to her. ‘Tell me what happened,’ he asked.
    She gulped and said, ‘I work there as a cashier. I was late for the morning shift because my bairn wasn’t feeling well. I had to wait to get someone to look after her. I opened the
door of the bank, saw a gunman and people lying on the floor, and backed out. It’s awful!’
    Hamish took her name and address. ‘Is there a back door to the bank?’
    ‘Aye, it’s got a little kitchen where we make the morning coffee.’
    ‘Don’t any of you move,’ said Hamish, ‘and make sure everyone keeps clear of the bank until reinforcements arrive.’
    Hamish found himself getting very angry indeed. A bank robbery! In the Highlands! And on his beat!
    He went to his Land Rover and took out a small tool kit. He went round and surveyed the back door. There was a glass pane on it, but the pane was protected by heavy metal bars. The door hinges
were on the outside, however. He took out a screwdriver and a can of oil. He squirted oil on the hinges and got to work with the screwdriver, working furiously until he was able to lift the door
off its hinges. There was an alarm above the door, but it didn’t go off. Probably hadn’t been serviced in years, he thought.
    He took off his boots and went in quietly in his stockinged feet. He gently opened the door that led into the main floor of the small bank. A terrified girl was stuffing banknotes into a sack
while a man on the other side of the counter held a sawn-off shotgun on her.
    It was an old-fashioned bank. There was no bulletproof glass screen between the