Death of an Outsider by M.C. Beaton Page A

croft land from the crofters and Main-waring tells them to get stuffed. Then Harry Mackay puts his oar in and says Mainwaring bought those houses and left them empty out o’ spite, and Mainwaring says Mackay couldn’t get a fuck in a brothel, he was that weak. Mackay walks off in a temper. I had a lot of customers to serve but I was just about to go around the bar and stop the noise when Mainwaring left and everything quietened down after that and they were all laughing at Sandy, who was standing on his chair and trying to do an impersonation of Frank Sinatra. I asked him for his car keys but he said he didnae have his Land Rover with him.’
    Hamish asked a few more questions and then went off into the blackness of late afternoon. He decided to go out to the Cnothan Game and Fish Company to see if Jamie had heard any news of Sandy. He let Towser off the leash as soon as he was clear of the town traffic, and then he ambled along, whistling in a kind of dreary way.
    Towser plunged into the fields on either side of the road, looking for rabbits. Hamish kept calling him back, shining his powerful torch across the fields. It was just when Towser had been gone some time and Hamish was wondering whether the dog had been caught in a rabbit trap, that he at last saw Towser loping back towards the road, his eyes gleaming in the long beam thrown by the torch.
    ‘It’s no use grinning at me like that,’ grumbled Hamish, ‘I’ve had enough. Back on the leash you go.’
    And then Towser’s absurd grin slipped and fell to the grass. Wondering, Hamish bent down and shone his torch on a set of false teeth. He took out a clean handkerchief and picked them up.
    ‘Where did you get this, boy?’ he whispered. ‘Over there? Come on. Show me!’
    Towser obediently trotted off, stopping and turning every few yards to make sure his master was following him. ‘Fetch!’ called Hamish when Towser finally stopped and pawed the ground. Towser scoured around, bringing back everything he could find, from rusty tin cans to old shoes. Hamish turned and looked back. There was a car going along the road, not far away. As he watched, the car window opened and something came hurtling out. He walked forward and looked. It was a crushed beer can.
    He stood in the darkness, shivering in the wind, and thinking hard.
    He shone his torch on the false teeth. They were stained with nicotine.
    He wrapped them carefully in his handkerchief again and began to make his way back to the road. He put Towser back on the leash and headed on towards the Game and Fish Company.
    As he reached the yard, Jamie cruised in in his white Mercedes with his wife. The floodlights in the yard were switched on and so Hamish was able to view Jamie’s wife clearly. She was a tall, slim Highland beauty with masses of jet-black hair, a creamy skin, and a luscious mouth. She was wearing a mink coat open over a white shirt blouse and jeans and black leather boots with very high stiletto heels.
    Jamie introduced her, and then said, ‘We’ll be in the office, Helen, if you want me.’
    His wife smiled vaguely and then swayed off in the direction of the house.
    ‘Now, what can I do for you?’ asked Jamie. ‘Found Sandy?’
    ‘No,’ said Hamish. ‘I was hoping you would have had some news.’
    Jamie led the way into the office. ‘That’s a funny-looking police dog,’ he said, looking at Towser.
    ‘Aye,’ said Hamish, not wanting to explain that Towser was a pet and not a trained bloodhound. He often felt half-ashamed of his affection for the animal.
    ‘It’s a funny business this,’ said Jamie. ‘The skeleton, I mean. It can’t be Sandy or Main-waring. No acid, they say. Maybe the flesh was boiled off.’
    ‘The bones were too hard,’ said Hamish vaguely. ‘Let me see that lobster shed again, Jamie. I’d like to see if I can find any clue as to who left the whisky there. I was called out to the Angler’s Rest on Saturday evening and it turned out to be a hoax. It’s