Death of a Gentle Lady

he was beginning to say when a savage blow struck him on the back of the head and his world went black.

    Angela Brodie opened the door the next morning. Lugs and Sonsie stared up at her.
    ‘This is too much,’ complained Angela. ‘Come along. I’m taking both of you home.’
    She marched along to the police station and knocked on the door. There was no answer. She felt for the key in the gutter and opened the door. ‘In you both go,’ she ordered.
    But the animals stood there, staring up at her. Perhaps Hamish was still asleep. Angela walked into the bedroom. The bed had not been slept in. Then she remembered she had not seen the police car.
    She returned to Hamish’s pets and tried to drag Lugs inside by his collar, but the wild cat hissed furiously, the fur on her back standing up.
    Angela backed off. She walked back home. Both of them followed her. She dived into her cottage and shut the door on them.
    An hour later, she opened the door. They were still there, and it was beginning to rain. ‘Oh, come in,’ she said. ‘But don’t you dare frighten my cats!’
    Throughout the day, Angela kept returning to the police station. At last she phoned Strathbane but was told that as far as they knew Hamish had not gone out on any job.
    She kept the dog and cat for the night and tried again in the morning. To her relief, she saw Hamish’s Land Rover parked at the side. Once more she knocked and got no reply. Once more she went in and found the station empty.
    Angela went into the police office, found Jimmy Anderson’s mobile phone number, and called him.
    ‘Probably poaching,’ said Jimmy, ‘but I’ll drop over later.’

    Hamish recovered consciousness. He found he was lying staring up at a dirty ceiling. He cautiously raised his head and then fell back with a groan. He slowly turned his head to find out where he was.
    It was a bare room with a bucket in one corner. From the size of the room, he gathered that it had probably been the ‘best’ room in some croft house. A dining hatch was against one wall, perhaps installed there in the house’s better days.
    He felt his head. There was a large lump on top of it but the skin did not seem to be broken. He squinted at the luminous dial of his watch. He estimated he had only been unconscious for ten minutes or so, but that had been enough time to drag him in here.
    He was wearing only his underwear. Someone had moved quickly. And what was the reason for it?
    For the next few hours he rested, occasionally trying to get up and at last feeling strong enough to make the effort. As soon as he could stand, he stumbled across to the bucket and was violently sick. Then he relieved himself and went slowly back to the bed and lay down.
    He heard bolts being drawn back, and then, pretending to be asleep and looking under his eyelashes, he saw a tray being pushed through the hatch. The hatch went down. He heard bolts being rammed back into place.
    Hamish got slowly up again and went over and examined the tray. It contained a pot of tea, milk and sugar, and two large ham sandwiches.
    He gratefully drank the tea but still felt too nauseated to eat anything. He examined the room’s tiny window, looking for a way to escape, but it was sealed shut.
    He still felt dizzy and sick. He decided to sleep the night and see what he could do about escaping in the morning.

    Hamish awoke at seven in the morning. He heard a car arriving, a car door slam, and then the front door of the cottage being unlocked.
    Sounds of plates and pans in the kitchen and the sounds of cooking. He put his plate with the uneaten sandwiches on the ledge in front of the hatch. If his captor planned to give him breakfast, then he could grab whoever it was through the hatch. But he didn’t know how many people were responsible for his kidnapping. Better to wait and see if they or he or she left the cottage and then try to escape.
    Again the double doors of the hatch opened. He could see a head covered in a black balaclava. His old tray disappeared, and another was pushed through.
    He found he was hungry. There were two bacon baps and a pot of tea. He ate and drank and waited.
    The room was cold, so he wrapped himself in the filthy blankets from the bed.
    He waited and waited while the late winter sun rose and shone in through the window. Then he heard the front door slam and a little after, the sound of a car driving off.
    He walked over and examined the double doors of the hatch. He needed something to