Death of a Gentle Lady Read Online Free PDF Page A

hosting the reception.”
    “Her passport?” asked Jimmy. “Did you find it?”
    Hamish rose and took a bottle of whisky down from a cupboard. With his back to Jimmy, he said, “No.”
    “You know,” said Jimmy, “I wouldnae mind a black coffee with my whisky.”
    “The electric kettle’s broken,” said Hamish.
    “You never used it. Light the stove. It’s cold in here.”
    Hamish blushed. “Can’t. The chimney’s blocked. The sweep’s coming the morrow. Help yourself to whisky. I’ll chust put some o’ these trout out in the freezer. You’ll stay for dinner?”
    “No, I’d best be getting back.”
    Hamish went out to the shed where he kept the chest freezer. As soon as he had gone, Jimmy took the cleat and lifted the lid of the stove. He felt inside. His hand touched something. He lifted it out. Ayesha’s passport. “Oh, Hamish,” he muttered. “What have you done?”
    Hamish came back and stiffened when he saw the passport lying on the table.
    “Sit down, laddie,” said Jimmy grimly, “and spit it out. No lies this time.”
    Suddenly weary and ashamed, Hamish sat down at the table and began to tell his story, leaving nothing out.
    “You see,” he said finally, “they’ll examine that visa and check with the authorities. They’ll realise it’s a forgery and start looking around for highland forgers. They’ll get to Peter, and he’ll sing like a canary to shorten his prison sentence. Not only will my police station go, but my job as well.”
    “But why, Hamish? Why did you do it?”
    “It was a quixotic gesture. She was so beautiful that all I could think about besides saving my home and animals was letting folk know I wasn’t a failure in love. What a mess. I suppose you’d better do your duty.”
    Jimmy took a gulp of whisky.
    Then he rose and took the passport. He lifted the lid of the stove and dropped it in. He picked up a packet of firelighters, extracted one, ignited it with his lighter, and dropped it in on top of the passport.
    “Now we’re partners in crime.”
    “Thanks, Jimmy. I don’t know how . . .”
    “Forget it. Let’s suppose she had something on Ma Gentle. So Gentle kills the girl. What does she do with the body? Ayesha, or whoever she is, is a great big girl. Mrs. Gentle is a wee old woman. Say she hit her hard. With the reception and the house full of people, it would need to be down in the cellar or in one of the upper rooms. Look, I’m off-duty tomorrow. Put me up for the night and we’ll go over, all innocent like, and ask if we can see her room. Mrs. Gentle can hardly refuse. If she follows us around and looks nervous, say, we might get an idea she’s guilty of something.”
    Mrs. Gentle opened the door to them the next morning, looking flustered. “What is it? You can’t come in. I’ve got some women from Braikie clearing up the mess.”
    “We’ve found out that Ayesha had stolen someone’s identity,” said Jimmy. “We would just like to look in her room to see if we can find any clues to who she really is.”
    “Oh, very well. Follow me.” The sounds of energetic cleaning met their ears. “I’ll be glad when the house is clean again. I spent all day yesterday recruiting women to do the job.” Mrs. Gentle walked up the stairs ahead of them, her back erect. A faint smell of lavender perfume drifted back to them.
    Mrs. Gentle pushed open a door at the top of the house. “This was her room,” she said.
    “
Was
?” repeated Hamish. “Do you think she’s dead?”
    “Of course not. If you remember, she was to leave here for good on the day of her wedding.”
    Hamish and Jimmy walked in. Jimmy turned round to where Mrs. Gentle was hovering in the doorway. “You can leave us,” he said.
    She hesitated a moment and then went slowly away down the stairs.
    It was a turret room. Very little furniture. A narrow bed stood against one wall, an old-fashioned wardrobe against another. There was a round table at the window with three hard-backed