Death of a Liar Read Free Page B

cannae see any further.”
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    â€œMaybe you should sleep here,” said Hamish after they had walked back to the police station.
    â€œThat police cell bed is as hard as buggery,” said Jimmy. “I’m off.”
    He drove carefully out of the village and up onto the Strathbane road. He had to admit, the seer had scared him. Jimmy stopped the car and lit a cigarette. He was about to drive off again when, with a great rumbling sound, a landslide of mud, heather roots, gorse, grasses, and earth crashed down the road in front of him.
    He slowly and carefully turned the car and drove back to the police station.
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    Dick and Hamish went out to check that no one and no cottage had been caught in the landslide. They were muddy and tired when they got back to the police station.
    Jimmy’s snores were sounding from the police cell.
    Hamish showered and got ready for bed. He was just climbing into bed, followed by his pets, when the phone in the police office began to ring.
    He went through to answer it. Liz Bentley’s voice came over the line. “He’s trying to get in the door. Oh, help me! Help me! Oh, God!” There was the sound of a crash, running feet, a shot, and then silence and the line went dead.
    â€œThat must be one o’ the most imaginative liars I have ever come across,” muttered Hamish and went back to bed.

Chapter Two
    It is the penalty of a liar, that should he even tell the truth, he is not listened to.
    â€”Babylonian Talmud
    Hamish woke the next morning to be immediately plagued by a guilty conscience. What if—just what if—for once in her life, Liz had not been lying?
    He dressed hurriedly and woke Jimmy and explained his fears. “You’d better get off up there in case,” said Jimmy. “There’s not much you can do here. I’ll let you know of any developments. And take your animals with you. I don’t want to be left alone with them.”
    Dick was already up. “We may as well have a decent breakfast first,” he said. “Think how right cross you’ll be to find her lying and you with an empty stomach.”
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    They eventually set off on a sunny morning, bumping and swaying over the heather to circle around the landslide.
    On such a day, with the blue mountains soaring up to an azure sky, it was hard to believe that anything had happened to Liz.
    They gained the shore road. Even the Atlantic was calm: green near the shore and deep blue further out where cormorants screamed and dived.
    Hamish began to feel reassured as they drove into the tiny village of Cromish. A couple of women were chatting outside the village shop. Smoke from peat fires rose lazily into the air.
    They parked outside Liz’s cottage. “The door’s closed,” said Dick, “and there’s no sign of forced entry.”
    â€œSo let’s knock anyway,” said Hamish, “and see if we can stop her lying for once and for all.”
    They got down from the Land Rover. Hamish stretched and yawned, his hazel eyes surveying the highland scene with pleasure. He knocked at the door and rang the bell.
    Silence.
    He tried the door handle. It was not locked, and the door swung open easily.
    â€œMiss Bentley?” he called.
    No sound but the rising wind soughing through the heather outside.
    He pushed open the door to the “best room” and then to the kitchen- cum -living-room. Everything was clean and neat, but both rooms were empty.
    He went up the narrow stairs—followed by Dick—to where he guessed he would find small bedrooms under the eaves.
    Still no sign of Liz.
    But there was something in the very silent atmosphere of the place that was making Hamish’s highland sixth sense uneasy.
    â€œMaybe she’s at the shop,” suggested Dick.
    â€œLet’s have another look downstairs first,” said Hamish.
    He went into the kitchen. “There’s the phone on the