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remote spot. The Polish Association was open in the evenings in Inverness. Perhaps he might go there later.
    â€œLet’s get started,” he said to Dick.
    â€œWhat are we looking for?” asked Dick, sulky at having been dragged out of the kitchen at the doctor’s.
    â€œAnything worth torturing the poor woman for.”
    â€œShe was a liar, right?” said Dick. “What if she talked about having money under the mattress or jewels hidden away or a stash o’ drugs? Someone takes her seriously. She cannae tell the beast anything because she’s made it all up. I mean, she had a car. She could ha’ taken trips to Strathbane.”
    â€œAnd so she could,” agreed Hamish. “But we’re going to search this place anyway. You take the downstairs and I’ll take the upstairs. Where are Sonsie and Lugs?”
    â€œChasing seagulls on the beach. Do you want me to…?”
    â€œNo. They’ll be fine. Get to work.”
    Although the cottage was only one storey, there were two bedrooms in the attics. One looked unused and was small in size. The other was obviously where Liz had slept.
    It was a low-ceilinged room with a double bed and two bedside tables. There was a large Bible on the left-hand table. On the wall was a wooden crucifix depicting Jesus on the cross. Hamish stared at it curiously. Liz’s brother would not approve, he thought, the Presbyterians considering all “graven images” beyond the pale. Had she adopted another religion? He opened the Bible. There was a dedication. “To my dear Liz. Walk in the footsteps of Jesus. Barney.”
    Who was Barney? Hamish made a mental note to phone Liz’s brother. There was nothing else in either bedside table, all papers and documents having been taken off to Strathbane. The floor was covered in slippery green linoleum and two violently coloured crocheted rugs. Against one wall was a wardrobe. It contained some drab-looking dresses, an anorak, and a tweed coat.
    On the top shelf of the wardrobe were several depressing-looking hats. He took them down and shook them out in the hope that something might fall out, but there was nothing at all. Beside the wardrobe was a chest of drawers containing underwear and tights. The underwear was of the serviceable kind. Nothing exotic. No hint that Liz might have been hoping for an affair.
    There was no sign that the house had been searched, the murderer obviously having fled after he had killed Liz. Christine had been looking for anything that might give her DNA. Hamish wondered if it was worth slitting the mattress or taking up the linoleum.
    He felt he should ask her brother for his permission. He went outside to get a better signal and called Donald Bentley. He explained the reason for his search.
    â€œIf you feel you must,” said the minister. “I really feel I did not know my sister at all well. She was always strange.”
    â€œDid she attend any other church? Had she found any other religion?”
    â€œI do not know. I assumed she would go to the kirk in Kinlochbervie. Why do you ask?”
    â€œThere is a crucifix on the wall of her bedroom.”
    â€œWhat? I find that hard to believe. I am coming up to Cromish tomorrow morning. Her things will need to be cleared out and I will need to see when I can put the house on the market.”
    â€œDid she have any close friends in Perth she might have confided in?”
    â€œShe had a few friends in my congregation at one time, but they all shrank from her finally because of her behaviour and her lies.”
    â€œDid she have a mobile phone?”
    â€œThat I do not know.”
    â€œThere is a Bible presented to her from someone called Barney. Do you know of anyone of that name?”
    â€œNo.”
    Hamish thanked him and rang off. He then phoned Jimmy and asked for a copy of Liz’s recent phone calls from the landline to be sent to his iPad before returning to his search.
    He