With this tenth book in a series that fans of British mysteries have come to relish more than fish 'n chips and a pint at the pub, M. C. Beaton returns with another baffling case for Hamish Macbeth, the stubborn, red-haired, one-man police department of the Highland village of Lochdubh.
Praised for her wonderful characterizations, wry humor, and authentic local color, M. C. Beaton again adds the essential ingredient for an outstanding whodunit - a plot that keeps readers guessing right up to the very end. — from the blurb.
Strong-minded Priscilla was determined 'to make a man' of Hamish Macbeth, while Mr. Johnson, manager at the Tommel Castle hotel, warned her that she will never change him.
She did not agree. If she was to move into Hamish's den, a few changes was required: replace the old wood-burning stove with an electric cooker, regardless of Hamish's love for the old stove. A shower had to be installed over the bathtub, since it was so unhygienic to bath—while Hamish loved to relax and dream in the evenings in a nice hot tub after a days work. Where Willie Lamont left off with his OCD-sterilization of Hamish's home, Pricilla dove in and even perfected the art of deep-cleaning. Every single day. Lammont could learn from her. It was also temporary. She befriended the wife of Chief Superintendent Peter Daviot, to influence a promotion for Hamish so that they can move to the city of Strathbane. The two women were already hunting for possible new homes.
Priscilla also learnt that she would have to resign her job. Hamish refused to benefit from her income or her father's wealth. He was stubborn and adamant.
Trouble was brewing. The joyous chirpings of the two love birds in the bliss of an unofficial engagement turned out to become the screeching howls of Ibises in the grip of constipation.
Priscilla should marry one of her own kind, was Dr. Brodie's opinion, old-fashioned snobbery mixing with common sense.
Thought Hamish:
He just wanted to slouch around the village gossiping, poaching, and free-loading as he had always done in the tranquil days before his engagement.
It was instant news in Lochdubh. The new cooker. Mrs. Wellington was the first to drop in. Jessie and Nessie Currie, the spinster sisters, congratulated Hamish in Mr. Patel's shop. There was something about him, Hamish decided, which brought out the cleaning beast in people. He was being scrubbed out of his house, by the rare hand with the scrubbing brush, which was Priscilla.
Priscilla was more determined than ever to shake Hamish out of his village and into success. There were consequences... Oy, don't you hate it when that happens?
Angus Macdonald, the Lochdubh seer, had a few words for Priscilla: You will not marry Macbeth. A beautiful man will come between you.
So did Sophie Bisset, the new receptionist at the Tommel Castle Hotel. Came between them.
Then Beauty hits the village of Drim. Posh chap. English. Aw, remarked Hamish. He wouldn't last long. That half-shut-down feeling that happens up here in winter where you sit and think the rest of the world has gone off and have a party, leaving you alone in a black wilderness, would have this Adonis move in a matter of weeks. Peter Hynd he was named.
In a village without young women, the rest of them, the middle-aged widows and married women, received Hynd's devoted attention. Soon the atmosphere changed at the dark, black-watered loch abode. Women turned against their men, men against their women, woman against woman, men against the heart-breaker Adonis. It was like a rooster have strutted into the farmyard among the hens.
And then he disappeared.
The sudden flourishing of the hair-salon, fitness club, and the vigorous sales at the cosmetics counter in Jock Kennedy's shop, abruptly ended. No more blonde hair dyed, heavily made-up, high-heeled, overweight women folk around. All enthusiasm to feel young and appreciated died away. Except the grudges. The aftermath of Mr. Beauty's short-lived reign was brutal. A woman died.
The police was called, with Macbeth first to arrive. Pure accident they said. And they left again. Hamish continued to investigate and look for Hynds. Via London and Strathbane. He found a body. Wrong body. He knew it was the 'wrong body'. But the killer of the other murder freaked out. Gotcha! He got demoted all the same.
The clash of the Titans were over. In many ways. Hamish had a lot to overcome. Only one thing had him rejoicing. He was demoted.
Yes, I'm back to where I was, said Hamish to Towser(his dog). He turned the steak in the pan and began to whistle.... At a price, Hamish, at a price....said yours truly ... and the village...and his police colleagues...
I was just sad, and perhaps indifferent, but the rest of them were seriously mad.
COMMENTS
Atmospheric, dark: a tragicomedy par excellence. Thanks to M C Beaton's ability to capture the authentic local color so brilliantly. In exactly 176 pages, and with a super economy of words, the reader got entertained and overwhelmed with skillful detective work in this cozy murder mystery. It seldom gets better than this, if you appreciate organic storytelling and wit.