Death of a Dreamer Read Online Free PDF Page B

cashier and the customer, only a mahogany counter which sloped up to the cashier and down on the cashier’s
side.
    Hamish took out his telescopic truncheon, sprang across the floor, and vaulted over the counter, driving his feet straight into the gunman’s chest. The gunman fell backwards, and the
shotgun went off, blasting a hole in the ceiling.
    Hamish smashed the truncheon down on the arm holding the shotgun.
    ‘You’ve broke my arm,’ screamed the gunman.
    Hamish flipped him over and handcuffed him. Then he wrenched off the balaclava hiding the man’s face. It was a face he didn’t recognize, and he was glad of that. He had been afraid
it might be one of the locals and had not liked to think that one of them had decided to go in for bank robbery.
    From outside the bank, Blair’s unlovely Glaswegian voice sounded through a loud-hailer. ‘You are surrounded. You cannot escape. Come out with your hands up.’
    The townspeople were now crowded behind police barriers.
    The door of the bank opened, and Hamish Macbeth appeared, pushing the handcuffed gunman in front of him.
    A great cheer went up from the crowd.
    Blair’s face darkened in anger. A local cameraman was busy taking pictures. Police took the gunman off to a waiting police van.
    The bank manager, looking white and shaken, came out in time to hear Blair raging at Hamish, ‘You should have waited. I have a trained negotiator here.’
    The bank manager, Mr Queen, said crossly, ‘If it hadn’t been for Hamish, some of us might have been killed. There’ll be a reward for you, Hamish.’
    A policeman came up and said, ‘There’s a call from Mrs Sutherland’s store in Cnothan. She’s caught a shoplifter.’
    Blair’s face cleared. Here was a way to get the triumphant Macbeth off the scene before any more press arrived.
    ‘That’s your beat,’ he said. ‘Hop to it.’
    ‘What about my statement?’ asked Hamish.
    ‘You can send it in later. Off you go.’
    And so Hamish headed off to Cnothan, unaware of the fuss and gossip Effie was causing at the sale of work.
     
Chapter Three
    Thou are gone from my gaze like a beautiful dream,
    And I seek thee in vain by the meadow and stream.
    – George Linley
    The members of the Mothers’ Union were inclined to snub Effie, each one feeling she might have offered to help the cause by putting some of her own work up for sale.
    Effie, complete with garish make-up, cruised the stalls, picking up things and putting them back. Then as she stopped in front of Mrs Wellington’s stall, which was full of all the
unsuccessful junk recycled from the last sale, she picked up a horrible green vase. A shaft of sunlight struck down through the grimy windows and sparkled on the diamond ring on her engagement
finger.
    ‘Is that an engagement ring?’ boomed Mrs Wellington.
    The chatter in the hall suddenly died.
    ‘Indeed it is,’ said Effie with a smile.
    ‘And who is the lucky fellow?’
    ‘Jock Fleming,’ said Effie triumphantly.
    All the women crowded around her as Effie beamed in triumph. In that heady moment, she was sure Jock had actually bought her the ring.
    ‘When did he pop the question?’ asked Angela.
    ‘Just before he left.’
    ‘So when’s the wedding?’ asked Freda, who was visiting the sale of work in her lunch break.
    ‘As soon as we can,’ said Effie. ‘Jock is so impetuous.’
    ‘I never would ha’ thought it,’ murmured one woman.
    Effie heard her and scowled. ‘It was a whirlwind romance,’ she said loudly.
    Angela looked at the little defiant figure of Effie with her clown’s make-up and felt a pang of unease.
    Maybe Hamish Macbeth knew more about it than she did.
    Hamish had just finished sending over his report about the attempted bank robbery when Angela knocked at the kitchen door. He had not sent a report about the shoplifting
because the culprits turned out to be two small terrified schoolchildren who had stolen a chocolate bar each. Hamish had spent a weary afternoon