M.C. Beaton - Death of a Witch

Hamish phoned Jimmy. “I thought you were supposed to be on holiday,” said Jimmy. “I am. Is Fergus out?”

“Yes, he’s at home.”

“Thanks.”

“Hamish, if you know anything…”

“I’ll let you know. Talk to you later.”

♦

Hamish walked up to Fergus’s home and knocked at the door. Fergus answered. “Not again,” he said. “I’m no’ going back tae Strathbane.”

“Just a wee chat,” said Hamish.

“Come ben.”

Hamish edged his way around bulging rubbish sacks on the front step. “Been cleaning?” he asked.

“Aye. When I came back and saw the mess I’d been living in, I couldnae bear the sight of it. Poor Ina would ha’ gone mad.”

Hamish took off his cap and sat down. “Fergus, did Ina beat you?”

“What a thing to say and her not cold in her grave!”

“Fergus. You’ve got into trouble by not telling the truth. Out with it.”

“Well, maybe,” Fergus mumbled.

“You were seen going to Catriona Beldame’s.”

“Och, that was silly. She gave me this stuff and all it did was make my balls itch.”

“And Ina found out you’d been there?”

“Yes, someone told her.”

“And what did she do?”

“She hit me with the frying pan.”

“And was she in the habit of hitting you?”

Fergus hung his head. Then he burst out with: “What could I do, Hamish? I couldnae hit a woman. I couldnae talk about it. Me, a big man being hit by a wee woman? The shame o’ it.”

“What about Fiona McNulty. Did Ina know about her?”

“Maybe.”

“What maybe?”

“The day she was murdered, she left a note for me.”

“Fergus. For God’s sake, man. The things you’ve been keeping from me. Have you got the note?”

“No, I burnt it.”

“What did it say?”

“It said something like, “I know what you’ve been up to and you’re for it.””

“I got the idea you were relieved when she was killed.”

“I was that. I’m free at last. That’s what I thought. But you know what it’s like. You read about old lags who feel so strange and lost when they’re let out of prison after a long sentence that they can’t wait to get in again. I don’t seem to have thought for myself or acted for myself for a long time.”

“But you went to Fiona.”

Fergus looked at Hamish with pleading eyes. “Fiona wasnae really a hoor. She just did a bit on the side for some fellows. She was warm and nice. Hamish, you may as well have the lot. I hadn’t had any sex since my honeymoon. When we got back, herself says, “I’m not having any more of that nastiness.””

“You had grounds for a divorce.”

“This is Lochdubh, Hamish. I’m not the only one.”

“Who else visited Fiona?”

“I don’t know and that’s the truth. I never asked her. I wanted to keep up the lie that she was mine only.”

Fergus began to cry, great gulping sobs. Hamish handed him a handkerchief and waited in sympathetic silence until Fergus had cried himself out. “Just look at me,” said Fergus. “Crying over a hoor when I cannae even shed a tear for my ain wife.”

“Here’s what I want you to do,” said Hamish. “I want you to go to Dr. Brodie and get him to recommend a good psychiatrist. You need to talk all this out.”

“I’m not mad!”

“No, but you’ll drive yourself mad wi’ the load o’ guilt you’re carrying. Now, do you have any idea who’s been committing these murders?”

“Hamish, I swear to God I haven’t a clue.”

♦

Elspeth was wondering what to do about Perry. They both had been summoned back to the office. Elspeth had pointed out that the roads south were still impassable in a lot of places. The news editor told her to get back as soon as she could and to bring Perry with her.

She was anxious to remove Perry from Priscilla’s orbit. Perry was easy and charming to both of them. Elspeth was only comforted by the fact that she had overheard Priscilla inviting Perry for dinner and Perry had refused, saying he still had work to do.

In order to get Perry out of the hotel, she suggested they go down to the police station. “It would be a shame,” said Elspeth, “to get on the road and then find out Hamish had solved the murders. Then we’ve got Catriona’s funeral later on.”

“Do you think he will solve the murders?” asked Perry.

“He always has in the past. Mind you, there’s a first time for everything.”

♦

Hamish was in his office. He had pinned a large sheet of paper up on the wall with the names of the four murdered women with arrows pointing to each name from a centre circle in which he had written the one word in heavy black ink – SEX.

“Come in,” he said. “I’m just trying to work something out. Now, Archie Maclean said to me, “We don’t do sex in Lochdubh.” I thought that was funny at the time. But think of it. If that’s the case, there must be a good few sexually repressed men around.”

“Including you,” said Elspeth.

“Don’t be cheeky. Let me think. Wait a bit. What if I’ve been looking at this the wrong way round?”

“The funeral’s today,” interrupted Elspeth.

“Whose funeral?”

“Catriona. She’s still legally married to Rory so he’s agreed to stump up. Don’t suppose any of the village will be going, but Perry and I may as well do a piece. Mrs. Wellington will be there, of course.”

“That’s it!” exclaimed Hamish. “Mrs. Wellington. The village women were complaining to her about Catriona. What if I should be looking for a woman instead of a man? Take Catriona’s murder. Lesley said that provided the weapon was sharp enough, then a woman could have done it. All the murders seem to have been done in a frenzy of hate. Now, if Ina wasn’t one of the murderees, I might have thought it was her.”

“Why Ina?”

“Never you mind. When’s the funeral?”

“Three o’clock.”

“Maybe see you there. I’ve got to dash.”

♦

As Hamish walked up to the manse, he marvelled at how little he actually knew of what went on behind the lace curtains of the cottages in Lochdubh.

Whoever would have thought that Fergus was a battered husband?

Mrs. Wellington greeted him with a curt “I’m busy.”

“It iss verra important,” said Hamish. Mrs. Wellington always made him feel nervous. She invited him into the manse’s vast and old-fashioned kitchen.

“Don’t sit down,” she barked as Hamish removed his hat.

He turned and faced her. “Before Catriona was murdered, a lot of the women came to you about their husbands visiting her. Was there any particular one that was more upset than the others?”

“If, as I think you are, you are trying to pin any of these murders on the respectable ladies of Lochdubh, then I have nothing to say to you.”

“There have been four murders and maybe there’ll be another one if you don’t help.”

“Then look for a man! Women are the gentler sex, or have you forgotten?”

“Did you know that Ina Braid beat her husband?”

Mrs. Wellington had been rolling pastry. She glared at him and brandished the rolling pin. Hamish took a quick step back.

“Either Fergus is really guilty or all this has turned his brain. I knew Ina Braid, and she was a gentle soul.”

♦

Hamish returned to the station. The wind was rising and blowing powdery snow from the tops of drifts. The sky above was getting darker. Villagers were queuing at Patel’s, frightened that more snow would mean that deliveries of goods wouldn’t get through.

In the police station, he sought out two camper’s gas lamps and placed them in readiness on the kitchen table. More snow would probably mean a power cut. Sonsie and Lugs crashed through the flap on the door. Hamish could see that their coats were embedded with hard little snowballs. He filled a basin with warm water and patiently began to remove the snow from them.