Death of a Gentle Lady

the moment. Why is this the first time I have met him?’
    ‘He’s just out of hospital.’
    ‘What was up with him?’
    ‘Alcohol poisoning.’
    ‘We have that trouble with officers in Moscow. Let us go.’

    Bessie Hunter was at home. To their questions, she said that she thought the catering had been done by two women, Fiona King and Alison Queen. She said they joked about themselves as being the royal caterers.
    ‘They do the meals at the Glen Lodge Hotel outside Braikie,’ said Bessie. ‘But they do a bit of freelance stuff, nothing big, church socials, things like that.’

    As they drove north out of Braikie towards the Glen Lodge Hotel, the road curved until it was running along beside the sea. Although the sky was blue, the heaving water had turned black. ‘Storm coming,’ said Hamish. ‘Did you notice when we were in the cellar that the pounding of the waves seemed very close, almost as if they were thudding right against the walls?’
    ‘I didn’t notice. Why?’
    ‘Bits of the cliffs have been falling away all along the coast. I was thinking the family won’t get much for the place if they try to sell it.’
    ‘How do you know a storm is coming?’
    ‘Experience. When the sky is blue but the sea turns black, it usually means there’s a big blow on the way.’
    ‘Do you find this Blair creature difficult to work with?’
    ‘Oh, dear. It could be that he doesn’t like me. I am after all only a policeman, and I have only myself to blame when I am kept out of the main investigation.’
    ‘He struck me as being stupid.’
    ‘I really can’t comment about a senior officer. Here’s the hotel.’
    He drove up a short drive bordered by rhododendrons and parked in front of what had once been a large private home. ‘I remember this used to belong to an English family,’ said Hamish, ‘but the winters drove them back down south.’
    ‘Are the winters so very bad? The air still feels quite mild.’
    ‘Nothing like the winters in Moscow. We’re near the Gulf Stream. But the wind blows a lot, and from now on we barely see daylight. It starts to get dark around two in the afternoon.’
    They walked into the hotel. Hamish asked at the reception desk for Miss Queen and Miss King. They were told to wait in the lounge.
    Two women in their late forties entered and introduced themselves. Fiona King was stocky with grey hair and an incipient moustache. Alison Queen was a fake blonde with a simpering manner. Both were English. They said they had always wanted to see the Highlands and had answered an advertisement for a cook. ‘We always travel as a pair,’ said Alison. ‘The hotel said they would allow us to do some freelance work off-season.’
    Hamish asked if they had seen anyone apart from Mrs Gentle when they arrived to do the catering on the morning of the reception.
    ‘No, only Mrs Gentle,’ said Alison. ‘She seemed very flustered and told us we would not be wanted to serve out the canapés and drinks at the reception. She had originally said that she meant to use some of the wine from her cellar, but then she told me there was nothing down there worth bringing up.’
    Fiona chimed in. Her voice had a slight lisp. ‘I told her I was by way of being an expert on wine and if she would give me the key, I’d go down there and take a look for her. She fairly screamed at me, didn’t she, Alison pet? She said she’d ordered drinks from the wine merchant in Braikie, and when the stuff arrived it was the cheapest of cheap. Of course, Henry’s isn’t really a wine merchant, just an off-licence, and there was also whisky with names I’d never heard of, cheap gin and vodka along with the usual mixes. So we decided that she wasn’t going to waste any good wine on the guests.’
    ‘Did you see her Russian maid?’ asked Anna.
    ‘The one that was to get married? No. We assumed she was upstairs getting ready,’ said Alison.
    Hamish asked, ‘Was there a limousine waiting to take them to the wedding?’
    ‘That was your wedding, wasn’t it, you poor soul,’ said Alison. ‘No, when we left she was fretting, saying they would be late, but there was only her own car outside and not even a bit of ribbon on it, if she had meant to use that.’
    Anna asked, ‘At any time you were there, did she go upstairs to find out what was keeping Irena?’
    ‘Come to think of it,’ said Fiona, ‘that’s a bit odd. She was pacing up and down, muttering she was going to be late. Alison said, didn’t