Death of a Gentle Lady

dashing up the side of the cliff and as far as the top of the building. He could dimly make out a light in the tower window and Cyril’s car parked in front. Cyril had gone to earth in Irena’s old room.
    As Hamish struggled forward against the wind, he felt the ground beneath his feet tremble.
    Some instinct called to him to stop. Some voice in his head was calling ‘Danger!’
    But another voice in his head was calling out, too. ‘Are you going to let him get away with it?’
    He took another step forward.
    And then even above the noise of the storm, he heard a great rumbling and threw himself flat on his face, his hands clutching at the tussocky grass.
    He raised his head and, by the light of the racing moon, watched in horror as the whole castle began to slide into the sea while the clifftop crumbled under the battering of the waves. For a brief second, he saw Cyril silhouetted against the window, and then he was gone – gone down with the castle into the depths of the raging sea.
    Now the waves were dashing up, trying to eat away more of the land.
    Hamish got shakily to his feet. The air was full of spray. He headed back the way he had come, propelled this time by the wind at his back.
    When he reached the Land Rover, he found that the radio wasn’t working, and he could not get a signal on his mobile phone. For the first time, he realized he was soaking wet. He had left the station wearing only a sweater and trousers.
    He reversed away from the fallen tree until he could turn around and headed back to Lochdubh.
    He reached the shelter of the police station and rushed to phone Jimmy. Jimmy’s voice was faint and crackly, but he said he would be at the police station as soon as possible.
    Hamish changed into dry clothes. He took down a bottle of whisky from the kitchen cupboard and put it on the table with two glasses. He checked the stove thoroughly before he lit it in case Cyril had left another bomb in there.
    Half an hour later, Jimmy came crashing in.
    ‘Two police cars blown over in the hunt,’ he said. ‘You said something about the bastard having fallen into the sea.’
    Hamish told him about the end of the castle. ‘He was here before that, trying to kill me.’ Hamish went on to outline all that had happened while Jimmy opened the whisky bottle and helped himself.
    ‘I thought Blair would have been here organizing things,’ said Hamish.
    ‘We couldn’t rouse him. His phone was switched off,’ said Jimmy. ‘Well, thank God he’s gone and truly dead. Save the taxpayer a lot of money. No trial. You’d better write down a full statement, Hamish. Before you called, the Met checked on Harold Jury. He’s dead. I wonder where our Cyril got that gun?’
    ‘Do you know,’ said Hamish, ‘that if Cyril had never become so determined to put on that production of Macbeth , we’d never have got him? Or if he hadn’t had such small feet, I might never have guessed it was him.’
    ‘It’s no use phoning air-sea rescue in this storm. Well, I’d better get the men up there anyway and see what I can do. You stay here, Hamish, and get to work on that report.’
    When he had left, Hamish went through to the police office and started typing. It took him two hours to write a carefully detailed report. As he typed, he reflected that Mrs Gentle had made herself look guilty. She had decided not to hire a wedding car because she was regretting the expense and planned to drive Irena in her own car. She stopped the caterers going to the cellar because she thought they might pilfer a few bottles. When he had finished, he sent it off to Strathbane, went through to his bedroom, and fell into bed, fully clothed and down into a dreamless sleep, forgetting for the first time that his pets were not with him.

    He woke next morning to the crash of the cat flap. He got out of bed to face the reproachful eyes of two animals. He filled their water bowls and then went to shower, shave, and change into his uniform.
    He then loaded his pets into the Land Rover, noticing that the waterfront was covered in pebbles, seaweed, and driftwood, hurtled ashore by the storm. The weather had made another of its mercurial changes. The sun shone down from a clear sky.
    Hamish drove up to where the castle had been. Scores of Scene of Crime Operatives were there in their blue coveralls, hovering uselessly on the cliff’s edge.
    Blair was standing there with Jimmy and Andy MacNab. Jimmy hailed him. Blair turned his back as Hamish