Blurb:Gentle by name, gentle by nature. Everyone in the sleepy Scottish town of Lochdubh adores elderly Mrs. Gentle - everyone but Hamish Macbeth, that is. Hamish thinks the gentle lady is quite sly and vicious, and the citizens of Lochdubh think he is overly cranky. Perhaps it's time for him to get married, they say.
But who has time for marriage when there's a murder to be solved? When Mrs. Gentle dies under mysterious circumstances, the town is shocked and outraged. Chief Detective Inspector Blair suspects members of her family, but Hamish Macbeth thinks there's more to the story, and begins investigating the truth behind this lady's gentle exterior.
What a dark journey it turned out to be for Hamish Macbeth. It was okay to accept that some dark criminal forces might be after Hamish, such as Russian mafia members, but dumbfounding to discover who really wanted him dead.
And why would a gentle lady get murdered, when everybody, except Hamish Macbeth, liked her? With her faux castle on the edge of the cliff, where big chunks of rocks constantly broke off and landed in the ocean, it was a mystery why such a classy, affluent, lady would move from England into the old monstrosity, when her money could have been much better invested somewhere else.
Hamish thought she was bringing an atmosphere of evil around the peace of the Highlands.
Well, she did not like Hamish either. She called him a seven feet tall clown with improbable red hair.
A hornest's nest was stirred with this first murder. The second one impacted our constable's life directly.
For a third time he bought an engagement ring. First one was for Priscilla Halburton-Smythe, second one for Elspeth Grant, and now a third one for the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. But the wedding, and marriage, was not to be ...
In fact, Hamish had to flee for his life ...
In the midst of the murders, the residents of Lochdubh were rehearsing for the real Macbeth by Shakespeare.
Angela Brodie decided to compulsively deep clean her home in the hope that her writer's block will go away. It did not. Priscilla herself spent her time in the company of the visiting author Harold Jury, rehearsing as Lady Macbeth, or enjoying her walks in the hills in the company of the visiting Irishman Patrick Fitzpatrick.
Angela Brodie was the only one of Hamish's friends available to act as his Watson, in the absence of his law enforcement colleagues, who were missing in action when the serious work had to be done. They were not unwilling, they just did not agree with Hamish's suspicions.
To top it all off, Archie reported that another chunk o' the cliff had fallen again and the folly was now perched, balanced, like a toy castle,on someone's outstretched hand. Only the lip of the cliff was supporting it.
If Blair thought he had the last laugh at Hamish to try and close down the police station, he had it coming. Hamish got him back. Big time. The accompanying note of the gift he received from Hamish, read: Oh Happy Day, from your friend and colleague, Hamish Macbeth.
Karma, dear friends. Hilariously funny Karma it was. Well, the whole situation resulted in Blair dancing the Eightsome Reel, the Gay Gordons, and the Dashing White Sergeant as if his feet had wings. A dark comedy indeed.
There were so many elements combined in this novel to ensure a fascinating, thrilling, endearing, dramatic, compelling read, that it is impossible to summarize it all.
An entertaining 245 pages. A traditional Scottish mystery of the excellent kind.