M.C. Beaton - Death of a Witch

“Who’s dead?” asked Hamish.

“I came to ask you that. This murder over at Bonar. I went straight there but I couldn’t find you.”

“I meant the black clothes.”

“I was sent up here in a hurry, and put on the first things that came to hand.” The cat let out a slow hiss and Lugs glared up at her.

“I see your two wives are as jealous as ever,” said Elspeth.

“Just cut that out,” said Hamish. “I’d forgotten what a nasty piece of work you could be.”

“Simmer down. You’ve forgotten what a help I can be.” She fished in a bag at her feet and produced a bottle of whisky. “Want a dram?”

“I could do with one.” Hamish sat down with a sigh. “Then I need to eat something.”

“Have a glass and then I’ll take you to the Italian restaurant.”

“Can I take Lugs and Sonsie with us? They’ll give them something in the kitchen. And don’t look at me in that pitying way.”

“Sure. Bring them by all means.” Elspeth opened the bottle as Hamish put two glasses on the table. She poured them each a generous measure.

There was a knock at the kitchen door. “If that’s my photographer, get rid of him,” said Elspeth. “He’s the world’s worst bore.”

But it was Lesley. “I came to get my pot and plate,” she said. “Oh, you’ve got company.”

Hamish made the introductions. “A reporter!” exclaimed Lesley. “You should know better than speak to the press.”

“We’re old friends,” said Elspeth. “And Hamish knows I never use anything without his permission.”

Lesley stood awkwardly. “Anyway, I came to pick up my things and thank you for the flowers. They were beautiful.”

Elspeth wished she would go away. But her innate highland courtesy, combined with the fact that this was a forensic expert who might have some interesting details, prompted her to say, “I was just about to take Hamish out for dinner. Why don’t you join us?”

“I don’t want to barge in…”

“It’s all right. Give her a glass, Hamish, and then when we finish our drinks, we’ll walk along to the restaurant.”

♦

Over an excellent meal, Lesley listened as Hamish began to talk about the three murders. It was a concise and intelligent report. Lesley felt a stab of irritation that such an obviously intelligent man should waste his talents stuck in a highland village. Of course, if he married the right sort of woman, she would drum some sense into his head.

Then she became aware that Elspeth’s eyes were surveying her. And those eyes seemed to be saying, I know exactly what you ‘re thinking . To her fury, Lesley found herself blushing. She rose to her feet. “Got to go to the loo.”

“Hamish, oh Hamish,” teased Elspeth when they were alone. “She plans to marry you and make you over.”

“Stop havering, Elspeth, and turn your mind to these murders. What do you think?”

“There doesn’t seem to be anything to connect them. If Fiona McNulty was on the game, then that sort of life can lead to violence and her death may not be connected to the others. Catriona seems to have made so many enemies, it’s hard to know where to start. Now, it’s the one in the middle that fascinates me – Ina Braid.”

“Why her?”

“Think about it. Here’s a decent God-fearing woman, hardly a murderee. So she must have known something. It stands to reason. So the thing to do is to ask and see if she said something to anyone. I feel she must have said something, and if she did whoever she talked to might be too frightened to say anything. She must be part of the first murder, but I can’t see any reason for the murder at Bonar.”

Lesley rejoined them. “We’ve just been discussing the murders,” said Hamish. “Any idea when Fiona McNulty was killed?”

“About four or five days ago at a guess. Someone must have battled their way through the snow to get to her. The mobile home’s parked on heather so there’s no hope of getting a footprint. Everything in the trailer had been wiped clean. Not even a spare hair.”

“Do you know if they found a mobile phone?”

“No sign of one.”

“Anything off that threatening note?”

“What threatening note?” asked Elspeth.

“Someone called her a whore and told her she’d be next.”

“We’re working on it. It was written on a computer,” said Lesley. “But whoever wrote it used gloves.”

“No sign of a weapon?” asked Hamish.

“No, but it was not the same weapon that killed Ina Braid. This was as if it had been done with something like a hunting knife. The stab wounds on Catriona’s body were made with something with a serrated edge, like a bread knife.”

Hamish suddenly wanted to be alone with Elspeth.

“I think you should be getting on your road, Lesley,” he said. “The weather’s changing and you don’t want to be caught in a blizzard.”

Lesley looked from one to the other and then got up and put on her coat. Hamish walked with her to the door of the restaurant. “Good night,” he said firmly. She looked past him to where Elspeth was sitting watching them and then she stood on tiptoe and planted a kiss on Hamish’s cheek, said breathlessly, “I’ll phone you,” and hurried off into the night.

∨ Death of a Witch ∧

7

The mair they talk I’m kent the better .

– Robert Bums

“What if,” said Elspeth when Hamish returned and sat down, “the murder of Fiona McNulty has nothing to do with the other two? She was a woman living alone in a trailer. Some passing maniac might have wanted money for drink or drugs. Was she sexually assaulted? And was there any money in the mobile home?”

“I’m slipping,” said Hamish ruefully. “I’ll phone Jimmy.”

Jimmy answered and asked, “Where are you?”

“I’m in the Italian restaurant.”

“Be with you in a minute. I’m along at the station.”

Hamish rang off and said, “Jimmy’s in Lochdubh. He’ll be with us in a few minutes.”

Jimmy arrived and shrugged off his coat. “Man, I’m famished.”

“Join us,” said Elspeth. “I can entertain the police on my expenses.”

“As long as you don’t go printing anything you shouldn’t. Willie!” he called to the waiter. “Get me a bowl of spag bol and a bottle o’ plonk.”

“We dinnae serve plonk,” said Willie.

“Well, something red wi’ alcohol in it.” He turned to Hamish. “Man, I’m tired. Give me a bed for the night?”

“Yes, but you’re not getting any of my clean underwear. Jimmy, was the Fiona woman sexually assaulted?”

“According to the first brief examination, no.”

“Was there any money taken? Any valuables?”

“Not that anyone could see. Her handbag was in a cupboard with all her credit cards and two hundred and ten pounds in cash. There was a gold wedding ring on one finger and a diamond ring as well. She had a wee TV in the living area. That hadn’t been taken. So robbery wasn’t the motive.”

“That’s a pity,” said Hamish.

“Why?”

“I’ve a feeling that if the motive had been robbery, that might have been one less murder to solve. That would have suggested a villain, and we could have checked up with people with a criminal record on the database. It looks awfy like this one was connected to the others. Is there anything in Ina Braid’s background that might lead someone to kill her? She’s been in the village as long as most folks can remember. Churchgoing, member of the Mothers’ Union, absolutely blameless.”

“Fergus Braid in his interview said they had been married for twenty-eight years. Both local. Met at a ceilidh. Ina was working as a secretary over at Braikie. Got married and Ina became a housewife. End of story.”