M.C. Beaton - Death of a Witch

“I came to see you. I thought you might like to know the latest developments.”

“There are a couple of empty chairs over in the corner,” said Hamish. “Let’s go over there.”

“I went back over the mobile home myself,” said Lesley, “and I found one thread – a dark blue thread, which might have come off a tweed coat or jacket. It was a lucky find because whoever murdered Fiona vacuumed up afterwards and took away the vacuum bag. I thought you might want to look around for someone with a jacket or coat like that.”

“Thanks. That’s a good tip,” said Hamish, thinking Lesley looked pretty with her large eyes and red-gold hair.

“I couldn’t find you today,” said Lesley. “Where were you?”

“I’ve been babysitting my reporter friend. She wrote the horoscope programme in the local paper implying she knew the identity of the murderer.”

“That’s odd.”

“What is?”

“Getting you to babysit. That should be a job for a policewoman.”

“Elspeth has helped out in cases in the past. I think Jimmy hoped she would come up with something. Oh, here’s the lord and master.”

Blair pushed his way through the throng. “I’ve just learned you’ve been wasting your time squiring around your girlfriend. I gave Anderson a rocket. These journalists are hard-boiled and don’t need protection. Get up to Braikie and start asking folks all over again. Someone must ha’ seen something.”

“I’ll tell her,” said Hamish.

Blair saw the trays of whisky being carried around, and his eyes gleamed. “No, laddie, I’ll tell her. Get off with you.”

Lesley walked out with him. “Maybe you’ll be free for dinner tonight?” said Hamish. “I owe you one.”

“I would like that.”

“The Italian place at eight?”

“Fine.”

♦

Hamish felt the rest of the day was a waste of time. No one in Braikie had seen anything. Even the ones who said they had, the ones who had made up colourful stories, had nothing now to say.

When he got to the restaurant that evening, Lesley was the only customer. From the village hall came the sound of the accordion and fiddle. The wake would go on all night as usual, he guessed.

Lesley was wearing a low-cut blue dress revealing a deep cleavage. Hamish felt the first stirrings of desire.

Elspeth had been cool and business-like and had put out no vibes at all. Her very style of dress seemed to say keep off

Lesley found Hamish more attractive than ever. The fact that here was a man who didn’t seem to want to drag her off to bed had piqued her curiosity about him, and his friendship with Elspeth had roused her competitive instincts.

They talked over the murder cases and drank quite a lot of wine. Hamish, just before the coffee was served, reached across the table and took her hand.

“Lesley,” he began, when a familiar voice said, “Gosh I’m beat. Am I in time for coffee?”

Elspeth pulled up a chair and sat down. Hamish drew back his hand as if he had been scalded.

“Find out anything?” he asked.

“Nothing. But I’ve arranged I should call on Fergus tomorrow.”

“You shouldnae have done that without checking with me first.”

Elspeth looked from Hamish to Lesley. “Dear me, it seems as if I am not welcome here.”

“Who’s not welcome?” said a cool, amused voice.

Hamish stumbled to his feet, his face flaming. “Priscilla! When did you arrive?”

“Today. May I join you? Hullo, Elspeth. Who’s this?”

Hamish introduced Priscilla to Lesley, aware the whole time of the malicious amusement in Elspeth’s silver eyes.

Lesley’s heart sank. Who on earth was this classy vision, impeccably dressed, serene and beautiful? Her face was perfect, as was the smooth bell of her blonde hair. Lesley had drunk a lot so that she would have the excuse of asking Hamish for a bed for the night. It was still worth a try.

“I’m afraid I’m not in a fit condition to drive this evening,” she said.

“Don’t worry about it,” said Priscilla. “I’ll put you up at the hotel as my guest.”

All Lesley could do was to say dismally, “Very kind of you.”

Priscilla wanted to know all about the murders.

Lesley felt forgotten as Hamish described all the murders and Priscilla listened intently.

“Look,” she interrupted at last, “I really think I’m fit to drive home.”

“How rude of me to ignore you like this,” said Priscilla. “Hamish, I’ll catch up with you tomorrow.”

When they had gone Elspeth asked, “Feeling smug?”

“No. Why?”

“Our forensic expert is after you.”

Hamish looked uncomfortable. “I think maybe she’s just keen on her job. Look, I’ll come with you to see Fergus. Has anyone come forward to claim Catriona’s body for burial?”

“Not that I’ve heard. I believe Mrs. Wellington was trying to get the villagers to raise money for her funeral but the general opinion is that a stake through the heart is all that’s needed. But I suppose the responsibility will fall on the husband.”

“I gather Fergus is still off work?”

“He’s thinking of going back soon.”

“I forgot to ask Jimmy whether Ina was insured.”

“We’ll ask tomorrow.” Hamish sighed. “I’d better escort you to the hotel. Remember to lock your door and don’t answer without checking downstairs first.”

♦

Fergus answered the door to them the following morning. He looked a wreck. His eyes were bloodshot and his shoulders stooped. “Come ben,” he said.

What had happened to Ina’s impeccable housekeeping? Empty beer cans lay on the floor along with the remains of TV dinners. The furniture was covered in a thin layer of dust.

“You’re not looking very well,” commented Hamish.

“Ina looked after me real well. I can’t cook. I hate shopping. Och, man, I wish she was back.” Fergus began to cry.

“Wheesht, now,” said Hamish. “You’ll just need to get used to the fact that she’s gone.”

“I’ll make a cup of tea,” said Elspeth, and she disappeared into the kitchen.

“Are you all right financially?” asked Hamish.

“Oh, aye.” Fergus gave a great gulping sob and wiped his nose on his sleeve. “Her life was insured.”

“How much?”

“Seventy-five thousand pounds. Thon creature Blair was trying to make me admit I murdered her for the money but he can’t prove otherwise.”

“Maybe you should take a holiday,” said Elspeth. “Get right away.”

“I can’t. Hamish, you’ve just got to find out who killed my Ina.”

“Fergus, I think she knew something about the killer,” said Hamish. “Didn’t she even give you a hint about who it might be?”

“No, but we didnae talk all that much come to think of it. I watched the telly of an evening and herself would knit or go out to one of those women’s meetings at the kirk.”

“I want you to keep thinking about it all the same,” said Hamish earnestly. “Anything at all she might have said.”

♦

“Now what?” asked Elspeth when they were outside. The day was still and misty, and little pearls of moisture glinted in her frizzy hair.

“I think I’ll get back ower to Bonar Bridge. Maybe I might pick up something there.”

“Want me to come with you?”

“No, just be careful.”

♦

Hamish wanted rid of her because he wanted to see Priscilla. He wondered if the old longing for her would ever go away.

He returned to the police station to collect his dog and cat, making sure first that no members of the press were lurking about, and then drove to the hotel.

The Tommel Castle Hotel had once been the home of the Halburton-Smythes. It was one of those mock Gothic castles that had sprung up in the Highlands in Victoria’s reign when landowners wanted to copy Balmoral. Colonel Halburton-Smythe had fallen on hard times, and it was Hamish who had suggested he turn his home into a hotel. The establishment had flourished, and the colonel was fond of bragging that it had all been his own idea.