Am I the man on the rebound, thought Hamish, or am I just like everyone else and think Elspeth's daft predictions apply to me?

The phone rang. It was Ian Chisholm to say that the machines in his laundrette had been broken into and all the money taken. Hamish headed for Braikie. At least it was something to take his mind off murder.

On Friday, Bessie Macpherson, a girl in the village, was getting married, which meant the whole village was invited. Hamish had heard nothing from headquarters. He had heard nothing from Elspeth. So he put on his good suit in the afternoon and headed for the church.

He met Elspeth and Sam on the church steps. Sam was holding a camera. Hamish drew Elspeth aside. "Did you find out anything from Felicity?"

"Not much. I'll tell you after. Here comes the bride. You'd better take your place in the church."

Hamish sat at the back of the church with the other villagers. Bessie came up the aisle on the arm of her father. She was a plump little girl of no great beauty, but she looked so excited and happy in her white gown and veil that she seemed to carry up the aisle with her a sort of radiance. Her groom in full Highland dress stood at the altar.

As women around him began to sob, Hamish's mind drifted back to the murder case. Ian's problem hadn't taken up much time. Two schoolboys had been seen late at night, fiddling with the machines. He had arranged with the parents that the stolen money be returned to Ian and that they wash the laundrette floor twice a week. He had not charged them, having a reluctance to condemn two schoolboys to the juvenile court for a first offence.

When the service was over and everyone filed out after the bride and groom to walk the short distance to the church hall where the reception was to be held, he searched for Elspeth and then saw her. Sam was taking photographs and Elspeth was noting down names. A local paper did its best to get in as many photographs and names as possible, knowing that it would boost sales.

There was a buffet meal. Hamish queued up with the rest and helped himself to a plate of food. May as well eat something until Elspeth was free.

Then there were speeches and then it was announced that the Lochdubh linedancing group would entertain them. Hamish stared as the men and women emerged headed by the massive figure of the minister's wife, Mrs. Wellington, wearing a fringed skirt, checked shirt, and a large white Stetson. Then came the Currie sisters, in identical cowboy boots, shirts, and jeans. And then, leading the rest, came the diminutive figure of fisherman Archie Maclean, with two toy six-shooters at his belt.

"Yee-haw!" yelled Mrs. Wellington as the music started. Hamish could feel laughter bubbling up inside him. He stumbled to his feet and fled out of the hall and rolled on the grass outside, shrieking with laughter.

"Hamish, Hamish," chided a voice above his head. He sat up and looked into the laughing face of Elspeth.

"I couldnae believe it," said Hamish, taking out a handkerchief and mopping his eyes. "Do they know what they look like?"

"They all think they look like real western dudes, even the Currie sisters. It's the best fun they've had in ages."

Hamish stood up. "I can't go in there again until they've finished or I'll disgrace myself. So what about Felicity?"

"Well, I interviewed her and then took a few photographs. She said she had only been working on the police programme, not the other."

They walked down to the waterfront and leaned on the wall. A pale sun was glinting on the waters of the loch.

"And what about the hairpins?"

"That bit was tricky. She's now got her hair cut short. But she said that when the police arrived, any hairpins she had were in her head."

"Damn, and they wouldn't even think to ask her to take her hair down to look for blonde pins. And she's got thick hair. She could have buried them in there somewhere."

"Hamish, you're getting carried away. If she committed the murder, she'd have taken out those pins and thrown them in the heather, anywhere between Strathbane and Lochdubh. But I've got one little thing for you."

"What's that?"

"The minute I brought up that business about the hairpins, she went off me. Up till then, she was delighted to be interviewed. But immediately she had explained about the pins in her hair, she said sharply that she was busy and terminated the interview. Up till then, she could have talked all day, she was so happy to be in the limelight."

"I'm going to put in a report," said Hamish. "I don't care what Jimmy says."

"You do that. But it's a wedding. I've finished my work. We should go and have fun. Will you dance with me?"

"Of course. Is the line dancing over?" He cocked his head to one side. He could hear an accordion band playing the strains of an eightsome reel. "Yes, the dancing's started. Come on."

Earlier that day, Felicity Pearson received a phone call. She listened to the voice in utter amazement, her heart beating hard. Then she said, "Yes, I'll meet you. Where?" She scribbled something down on a pad.

When she rang off, her eyes were glowing. Success was coming her way at last. Rory had said they had decided to give her a break as a presenter. They were going to start a new series of Highland Life, and as some of the research on the lace-curtain programme had been done, they would start with that. The voice on the phone had promised to talk about something dramatic, and if Felicity got that person behind the camera, it would mean she would be on national television.

She debated whether to tell Rory and then decided against it. What if this person did not turn up?

Hamish checked that he had remembered to lock up his hens for the night and refused Lugs food, for the dog had already been fed before he went out. He felt restless. Did Elspeth fancy him? Should he bother? He walked over to the waterfront wall and looked down the loch. He could feel a puff of dampness in the light wind against his cheek. He looked up at the sky. A thin veil of black cloud was crawling in from the west to cover the stars.

Hamish shivered suddenly. There was something in this murder case that he had missed. He had a bad feeling.

Then he laughed. An evening with Elspeth was making him superstitious and fanciful.

He turned and walked back to the police station.

Felicity Pearson parked her car outside what used to be Dock Number Two, edged her way between the high rusty gates, now never closed, and walked towards where she had to meet her informer.

Empty warehouses stood behind her as she walked towards the sea, mute testimony to the days when Strathbane had been a prosperous port. The wind had sprung up, and somewhere a loose bit of metal clanged with the monotonous regularity of a tolling church bell. The sea heaved in great oily swells, covered in filthy debris.

She had not heard anyone approaching and jumped nervously when a voice said, "There you are."

Felicity swung round eagerly. "What have you got for me?"

"This."

The shotgun blast at close range blew a hole in Felicity's chest. Seagulls wheeled and screamed, and then there was silence again apart from the sound of the clanging metal and the sound of brisk, retreating footsteps.

EIGHT.

As some divinely gifted man, Whose life in low estate began And on some simple village green: Who breaks his birth's invidious bar, And grasps the skirts of happy chance, And breasts the blows of circumstance, and grapples with his evil star.

-Alfred, Lord Tennyson No one from police headquarters phoned Hamish to tell him of Felicity's murder. He was cruising out of Lochdubh the next morning to check that Ian Chisholm was all right and had experienced no more trouble when he heard it on his police radio.

At first he simply couldn't believe it. Then he swung the Land Rover round and headed for Strathbane.

He checked at police headquarters and learned that Jimmy Anderson was with Carson down at Dock Number Two.

When he arrived at the dock, an ambulance was just leaving. Forensic men in white suits were combing the dock for clues. Carson, followed by Jimmy, other detectives, and policemen, came walking towards him. Carson scowled when he saw Hamish.

"What are you doing here, Officer?" he demanded.

"I heard about it on the radio. What happened?" asked Hamish.

"Firstly, you will address me as 'sir' at all times. Secondly, your place is back on your beat, and I suggest you get there before I suspend you for dereliction of duty. If it had not been for your mad ideas, sending us off in the wrong direction, then that woman might still be alive. Get along with you."

If I were a dog, thought Hamish, my tail would be between my legs. He meekly went off. He felt he deserved the reprimand. What on earth had caused him to focus all his attention on Felicity?

He drove round by police headquarters, hoping to see a friendly face, and then saw the policewoman who had been present at the television station when Carson was interviewing everybody. He screeched to a halt and waved her over.

"I'm sorry to bother you," said Hamish awkwardly, "but I wondered if you could fill me in on this murder."

She looked beyond him down the long street and saw Carson's official car turning the corner. "I can't now," she whispered. "I'll drive over to Lochdubh this evening and tell you."

"Grand. What's your name?"

"Maggie. Maggie Fleming. And you're the infamous Hamish Macbeth. Get along with you."

"Eight o'clock," said Hamish hurriedly. "At the Italian restaurant. Dinner's on me."

"I'll get away when I can. Off with you. Here they come."

Hamish sped off.

His mind was full of questions. He hoped that when he got back to the police station Jimmy would phone, but thought it unlikely. He knew he had put Jimmy's nose out of joint before with the hairpin business.

All he could do was wait anxiously for the evening and hope to learn as much as he could from Maggie Fleming.

Hamish had not really looked at Maggie properly and was surprised to see how attractive she really was.

She was not in uniform and was wearing a soft creamy satin blouse with a short skirt and high heels. She had a mop of glossy black curls, bright blue eyes, and a generous mouth.

"This is very good of you," said Hamish.

"I get tired of being treated like some secretary," said Maggie. "Just because I'm a woman, I get to make the coffee, or, as you noticed, arrange the chairs."

"Strathbane is a chauvinist part of the world. Let's order first and then you can tell me about it."

Willie Lamont took their order. "Here again?" he said to Hamish. "You're getting to be a right caravanserai."

"Casanova, Willie."

"Aye, that's the man."

"Willie, do me a favour, take our orders and crawl off."

"It's all murder and mayhem," said Willie, shaking his head. "Someone's running about the Highlands, going bare sark."

"Berserk, Willie. Just please..."

But Willie's eyes had fallen on a silver bracelet that Maggie was wearing. "That bracelet of yours is getting a bit dim, miss," he said. "Now, there is nothing like oldfashioned rouge and a toothbrush for-"

"Willie," Hamish roared.

"Oh, all right," said Willie sulkily. He took their orders and departed.

"You'd never think that man used to be a policeman," said Hamish.

"So why's he working in a restaurant?"

"He married a relative of the owner and fell in love with cleaning at the same time. Never mind him. What about this murder?"

"She was found on the dock this morning," said Maggie. "She had been killed by a close-range shotgun blast to the chest. A preliminary investigation suggests that she had been killed sometime during the night. She didn't tell anyone she was going down there. She was all excited because they were resuscitating Highland Life and she was to be a presenter, in front of the cameras this time instead of behind."

"I gather she was going to start with that behind-the-lace-curtains programme, digging up old scandals?"

"Yes."

Hamish thought about the bank manager's wife and that poor woman over in Cnothan.

"You know," said Hamish, "I can't figure out why I became so convinced that it was Felicity who murdered Crystal, despite her alibi."

"Funnily enough," said Maggie, "I was thinking along the same lines. Good heavens, there's an odd-looking dog with big ears staring in the window at us."

Willie had placed them at a window table, and sure enough, there was Lugs, standing upon his hind legs, paws resting on the windowsill, glaring at them accusingly.

"Ignore him," said Hamish. "It's my dog."

"But how did he get out?"

"I got tired walking him. He always wants to go out. I figured this is a quiet village, he doesn't bite anyone or chase sheep, so I left the door open."

"Your computer could be stolen."

"Not in this village, and Lugs is a good watchdog."

"Is that his name? Lugs? Scottish for 'ears.' But how can he be a good watchdog if he's wandering about the place?"

Hamish looked back at the window, but Lugs had gone. "Never mind my dog. Tell me about Felicity."

"I went into her background before, after Crystal's murder. She's from Glasgow. Respectable middleclass background. No scandals. No lovers. Parents dead. Only child. Went to Glasgow University and then began work at the BBC in Glasgow as a researcher. Applied for a job on Strathbane Television. Rory MacBain originally thought...Hamish, do you think this window table a good idea? Now there's some odd girl in a fishing hat staring at us."

Elspeth Grant looked in the window at Hamish and then slowly moved away.

Hamish found himself blushing with embarrassment while telling himself furiously that he had nothing to be embarrassed about. "Go on, what were you saying?"

"Oh, about Rory MacBain. Yes, he liked the idea of a Gaelic show. Give the station a bit of tone. At first it went quite well. People were all saying it was a shame the Gaelic language should be allowed to die, and then gradually the novelty wore off and ratings slumped. It was well known Crystal gave Felicity a hard time. That other researcher, Amy Cornwall, she's tougher, and she said she felt Crystal wouldn't last, but she told me that one day she found Felicity in tears."

"I would like to talk to Amy Cornwall," said Hamish. "But if Carson found out, I'd be in more trouble than I am already. He blames me for Felicity's death."

"That's ridiculous."

"He feels that my reports suggesting she did it took the focus away from the real killer."